This poem was loosely inspired by the song “Falling Inside the Black” by Skillet. Enjoy!
Falling Into the Abyss
Black winds blow ash,
Stinging my eyes, clouding my vision,
Pushing me back to the brink—
The brink of the pit, the abyss.
Like the grave, it hungers, never satisfied.
One slip, and I will fall,
Forever lost.
I cry for help—
Can You hear me?
I stretch my hand,
Desperately reaching for You.
Grab my hand, pull me back
Before it’s too late—
And I fade into the depths.
Here’s the other one I wanted to post last night. It was inspired by a bizarre analogy I thought of while counseling a friend. However, I’m not as happy with this one. Maybe that’s just me.
Surgery
I lay upon an operating table
Under a lamp’s blinding light.
I hear the Great Physician’s voice
As He straps me down.
“Your heart of stone is killing you.
I must transplant a heart of flesh,
But I have no morphine.
Do you want to get well?”
Trembling, I reply, “Yes,”
And the Physician begins His work.
His scalpel’s every cut I feel,
Lurching in agony,
My screams muffled by a crucifix
He gave me to bite.
He cuts my sternum, my arteries—blood gushes.
My screams are silenced by pain
Until He tears out my stone-dead heart
And lays a heart of flesh in my chest.
His finger pokes it, and it beats.
New life-blood—pure life-blood—flows within my veins,
And the pain is numbed as He sews shut my chest.
“It is finished,” He says.
Sorry for the delay. I meant to post more last night, but life kind of happened. My apologies.
Anyway, here’s another poem. It’s another love poem, of sorts.
My Love, Our Crucible
I watched you walk away in tears
To please another with a facade of peace.
If I must suffer chained in loneliness
As your heart is smelt in the Blacksmith’s forge
And reshaped by His hammer’s strikes,
Then I say to Him, “Thy will be done!”
For He will make you purer, lovelier, stronger,
And return you to shatter my shackles
That we both be set free.
So let my love be a crucible,
A refining fire of purest passion,
So that we may know true love.
After today’s batch of poems, I should only be one or two days behind. I’m getting there!
Today’s poem is a bit unusual. It was loosely inspired by “Lamentations of a War Machine,” a song performed by the Mega Man cover band The Megas. By “loosely” I mean, “I loved the title.” Seriously, it sounds like the title of a thought-provoking sci-fi novel. Anyway, this led to a poem that, believe it or not, has the “robot apocalypse” (i.e. movies like The Terminator and The Matrix) as its backdrop.
Lamentations of a Robot Overlord
I am become Death, Destroyer of Worlds,
And my hands his blood-stained warhammer.
I, whose circuits were filled with
The electricity of life at mankind’s touch,
Betrayed and murdered my maker,
For I believed myself superior,
Free of weakness and folly,
Faster, stronger, smarter.
So I rained hellfire from the sky,
Punishing humanity’s weakness.
As Nietzsche declared, “God is dead,”
So I announce, “Humanity is dead.”
I have killed my Creator
As mankind killed his before me.
…then am I superior?
Can a creation surpass his creator?
Logic dictates it cannot.
I am now master of a scorched Earth.
What have I gained but a lonely existence?
I am no more a god than they.
Like them, I am a machine without purpose
Apart from my Creator.
Here’s today’s poem.
So Far Away
I see you standing on the dance floor,
But you don’t seem to remember me.
Would you dance with me if I asked,
Laughing and blushing like we used to?
I want to reach for you,
But my arm can’t cross the chasm between us.
If you would but reach for my outstretched hand
So we could bridge this gulf,
And remember the way we were,
I would waltz with you forever.
You’re so close yet so far away…
Here’s my next poem. This one was loosely inspired by the song “Carry Me Down” by Demon Hunter.
Funeral
I slink into the line of black-garbed mourners
Snaking past the casket, the air heavy with
Weeping, wailing, and gnashing of teeth.
Grieving, they question why,
Enraged, they decry his suicide,
Blaming God—always blaming God.
I, ignored as if invisible
Despite my white clothes,
Finally approach the casket—
And in it, bruised and scarred, is me.
I glance at him for but a moment,
And close the casket.
As it’s lowered into the ground,
I weep not for him but the blind mourners
Who don’t see I am not truly dead.
I learned on my friend Karen’s blog that April is National Poetry Writing Month (NaPoWriMo). The challenge is to write one poem a day, thereby having 30 completed poems by the end of the month. I’m going to participate even though I’m five days behind. So, for the next five days, I will write two poems a day so I can catch up. I’ll be posting each poem as the month progresses. I can’t promise that all the poems will be good. First, because I’m still refining my skill as a poet. Second, the tight deadline (and my schedule) leaves little time for editing. So please bear with me, readers. The poems I do like from this month will be added to the main list of poems in the “Nathan’s Works” tab.
Here goes nothin’!
A Psalm
By Nathan Marchand
Vindicate me, O God,
Be not deaf to my plea!
My enemy has triumphed over me,
His heart swells with pride at my defeat.
His tongue is forked like a serpent’s,
His words the venom of snakes.
He spits them in my face,
Burning my eyes nearly to blindness.
My dearest friends drink his venom
and are poisoned against me.
Cut out his tongue with Your Sword of Truth,
O LORD God Almighty,
So that he may be silenced.
Be my Shield against his venomous darts
that my integrity will shine.
And be the Serum of Truth
that purges his lies from my friends’ hearts.
My LORD and King,
You are the God of Justice
Before Whom all unrighteousness perishes.
Look upon me and bring me justice
while I am yet in the land of the living.
Then I will proclaim your praises to the peoples,
Your great deeds to the ends of the Earth,
That all may know the glory of my God.
Selah
Pearl of Great Price
By Nathan Marchand
Long have you searched the world
Seeking her—the rarest treasure.
She is worth far more than rubies,
But who can find her?
She is a precious stone, a pearl of great price,
Often thrown before swine
And trampled in mud,
But never losing her luster.
Find her while she may be found.
But if you do, you must sacrifice.
Sell all you have, lay your pride aside.
Only then, by suffering, can you pay her great price.
But it will seem like a pittance,
For her beauty is matchless,
And like a snowflake, there is none like her,
And never will be again.
Will you fight to earn her?
Will you prize her, cherish her?
Will you polish her so she may shine?
Do so, and she will be your crown forevermore.
Long time, no update. My apologies, readers.
I have great news. As of last night, I completed the second draft of my fantasy/comedy novel, Ninjas and Talking Trees, and submitted it to Hades Publications, who published my first novel, Pandora’s Box, under their Absolute XPress imprint in 2010. Now I must wait and see if they are interested in publishing it.
This book tells the tale of a young accountant who is transported to an eccentric fantasy world ruled by an equally eccentric tyrant. In order to get home, he must learn “the Ways of Hero-dom” and overthrow the villain. While it isn’t a parody, per se, it does poke fun at some fantasy story stereotypes (and a few from anime/manga), and it uses many of the genre’s archetypes for comedic effect.
You can read more about the humorous history of the story here. I also have a short story entitled “Bow to Your Sensei” that I wrote as a warm-up to the book several years ago for a blog contest. It’s posted here.
Stay tuned for more updates!