Chance Meeting- 萍聚

The Chinese have a saying to describe relationships, "萍水相逢," that roughly means "we are like duckweed swaying in the water that meet by chance.”

This is my translation of a famous Chinese song that describes two people parting, thankful just that they got the chance to meet. I feel that we are all like grass swaying in the water; we are lucky to meet the people we do, even if in time our paths must part with theirs.

Chance Meeting- 萍聚

No matter how things end,
At least we had the chance to meet.

We need not constrain each other

With vain words or promises;

For just this chance to have one another,

I tell you, that’s enough for me.

In one’s life, there are many memories;

I hope that I am in yours.

 

                             Jack Shirley

     

Borrow You

I don't think we are meant to be alone. We are to be in pairs; to have someone to lean on and trust in. This poem describes two people coming together for the first time and learning to give and to take...

(This was my first attempt at a poem with a chiastic structure. Every concept repeats itself: the first is last, the second is second to last, etc...)

Borrow You

I am going to borrow you
Rest my head upon your shoulder
Weave our hands together
Smile in your eyes
Feel you breathe
In rhythm
As I breathe
Trust in my eyes
Weave our dreams together
Rest your heart upon my shoulder
Borrow me

                                             Jack Shirley

 

Night's Remorse

I hope we don't take for granted the Idaho's beautiful night sky...

“If the stars should appear one night in a thousand years, how would men believe and adore; and preserve for many generations the remembrance of the city of God which had been shown!” –Ralph Waldo Emerson

Night’s Remorse

If the stars but shone

Just one night,

Oh, how we would believe;

And in their light

See beauty more

Than we now conceive.

Yet they dance

Across the sky

With each setting sun;

And we but fain

To lift an eye

And see what God has done.

What a waste

Of God’s dear love

Embodied in the night,

If we don’t care

To look above

And see the blessed  sight!

If in time

The heavens fade,

Then we’ll stop and stare;

And long again

For God to paint

In the black and empty air.

                           Jack Shirley

Two Hands Knit as One

I just read a quote by C.S. Lewis:

"There is no safe investment. To love at all is to be vulnerable." 

Every time I open my heart to someone I feel that vulnerability; yet, I am always excited at the chance of a new start. Today I find myself at that point again: vulnerable and excited; nervous just to hold a girl's hand. I'm amazed every time I reach for her and she reaches for me in return. There's something beautiful about when two hands meet. Something I tried to capture in this poem...

Two Hands Knit as One 

I stick out my hand

alone, vulnerable in the air,

Yet I don’t look back,

though I have my doubts

that your hand will meet it there.

I feel a touch;

a warm, inviting ray of sun.

Words and song can’t tell

the love of souls uniting

when our two hands knit as one.

                 Jack Shirley

 

God's Plans

I feel that no matter how hard I try to plan out my life, God's plans for me are always better than anything I could imagine. Maybe you've heard the joke, "How do you get God to laugh?... Tell him your plans!" God's vision is greater than ours. He might smile when we make plans, but only because we lack His vision. We sell our future short. One day we'll realize how great His plans for us really are and we'll laugh at our foolish plans too! One day we'll all come to see the beauty God has prepared for us each and every day.

The Rising Sun

“And it came to me then that every plan is a tiny prayer to father time.” -Death Cab for Cutie

I wonder what will come, with tomorrow’s rising sun…

Every night I anticipate.

I plan my day as if it’s fate.

But when I lay and close my eyes

Beneath another moonlit sky,

My head swims through all I’ve done

And what did come with that day’s sun.

Inside I laugh. I start to smile,

For what I planned all the while,

Was truly nothing when compared

To the beauty god had prepared…

With the rising sun.

                                    Jack Shirley

Our Friend, Cole

At church Sunday, I felt impressed to visit the grave of one of my good friends, Cole Benson. I hadn't been to the cemetery since he passed away 2 years ago, so his headstone was a little hard to find. When I finally found it, it was really inspiring and comforting. I've been making a effort lately to rededicate my will to the Lord. On his headstone is inscribed one of his last journal entries before passing away. It reads:

“If I will align my will with the Father, I know that no matter what happens on this earth, I will be blessed eternally for keeping the commandments and living the Gospel to God’s standards and not the world’s…” –Cole Benson, March 3, 2009. 

I read those words and they really touched me. They spoke to me the kind of faith and confidence I need to have right now in what I am doing and who I am becoming. I too know that the path I want to be on will bless me eternally. I hope I can learn to live with the faith of my dear friend Cole.

This is a poem I wrote for Cole's family at his funeral. He was a great example to us all. 

Our Friend Cole

Our friend Cole, a gentle soul,

Kind and caring too.

Pen may write, but fail to tell

What we’ve learned from you.

Confident, humorous,

A peacemaker to the core;

A true friend to all around,

You were that and more.

At motor biking, snow machining,

Work, and basketball

You were strong and always ready

To outdo us all.

Hardworking, true, and full of faith

An example you have set

Of humble, true discipleship

With every standard met.

Your choice spirit has touched our souls

And with faith we say,

“The Lord is pleased with you, our friend.

We’ll meet again someday.”

                                            Jack Shirley

Worth of Souls

This poem about the worth of a soul has been on my mind a lot lately...

Worth

 

Gold in worth is miniscule,

(Though it’s sought for still)

When compared with the human soul

And what is really real.

Indeed the greatest gift of God,

The most precious thing on earth,

Lives and breathes in all of us:

A soul of true worth.

                                                 Jack Shirley

 

Mr. Shenton's Marbles

A Poem for the great Social Worker, Brother Shenton.

Mr. Shenton’s Marbles

Mr. Shenton’s lost his marbles
Or so it seems to be,
But there’s something to his marbles
We don’t seem to see.

Each Saturday he steps outside
And throws one in the sky.
Sometimes as it hits the earth
I swear I see him cry.

It couldn’t be the polished glass
Smooth, simple, bright,
That tugs at him within his heart
At mid-morning’s light.

I have pondered as I’ve seen
Marbles dot his land,
And I’m convinced that marbles mean
Much more in Shenton’s hand.

For in his hand he holds the lives
Of people poor and cold,
Set aside like ragged shoes
Dirty, damp, and old.

Some people choose to pass them by
With a stinging stare,
While others just ignore their eyes
As if there’s no one there.

But Mr. Shenton lends a hand
And sees within their eyes
Stories untold by winter’s cold
And pain’s cringed cries.

Week after week, he sets out
To live a Christian creed,
Clothe the naked, feed the poor,
And care for those in need.

And when he wakes each Saturday,
A marble in his hand,
He thinks of all he’s done that week
To help his fellow man.

He sees their faces in each marble,
Dirty, cold, and poor,
And wonders with his marble lost,
"What could I do more?"

Then he lets his marble fly.
It falls to the earth,
And he returns to his busy life
Remembering its worth.

Mr. Shenton’s lost his marbles
You may choose to say,
But we are all losing marbles
Every Saturday.

Do we think to use our marbles
To help those in need?
Clothe the naked, feed the poor,
And live a Christian creed?

Or do we choose to lose our marbles,
Every Saturday,
Lift our eyes and ignore the lives
We pass along the way?

                                            Jack Shirley

You're a Flower

A poem I gave to my mom for Mother's Day this year.

You’re a Flower

“Man is a bulb planted; a flower not yet bloomed.”

You are a flower,

Not yet in the hour

Of its glorious bloom.

In your nature we see

What is yet to be,

The form you will assume.

For not just a creature

Created at leisure

Are you before the eye.

In you lies potential

For growth exponential;

A truth one can’t deny.

Your image is God,

In mortality shod,

Planted on the earth.

In your beauty we see

God’s divinity;

A soul of infinite worth.

                      Jack Shirley

Front Porch Melodies

I spent the night sitting on the front porch playing guitar with Sarah Grether. We both shared our love for music and song writing. A beautiful summer night! She told me I need to finally make a blog to share my poems. I'm thankful for her support; although, I think she is the one with true talent.

This blog will be really simple, like my poems. I will post some of my old poems from time to time, and new ones yet to be written. I hope you see in my poems the beauty I see in this world. Most of all, I hope we can all have many more summer nights singing front porch melodies.