Held by the Wind
#1
Held by The Wind
I.

When I crumbled,
You came quickly
as a beautiful storm;
You knew I'd run and stand
in the middle of the street,
a crazy woman
hands held high,
who doesn't care
what people think

only hoping
You'd pull me closer
nearer to where You are.
You kissed me, moved me
with Your lovely swirling power,
in a softened,
perfected blend
of watercolour: billowing greys,
oranges, and blues.

II.

Gently nudging,
in warm pushes and cool gusts,
You lifted silks
as You waltzed my
shirttails and collar,

caressing my eyelids,
with that kiss
I'd always only dreamed;
You fingertipped
my face and brow,

You held me close
whispering in thunders,
"It will be okay, kid";
knowing I was growing,
opening to revelation,
learning simplicity's secret
and the terrible cost of this war;

You came down that day,
hearing my lonely whimpers
showing just one small part of Yourself,
one I could handle,
because I am so tiny
and You are so great.

III.

Just another gentle storm, please.
More kisses, another chance
You'll lift me,
carry me away in Your whirlwind
like You almost did that day
in the crumbling parking lot
next to The Henry Ford
when I wanted to lie down,
crawl, but You had me stand,
pressed against your mighty wind,
leaning into Your majestic power,
"trust me", You said,
"go ahead, fall!"
but I didn't
and You knew I wouldn't
because you held me there
knowing I believe in You.

IV.

Make me another storm,
reassure me I'm yours,
call me to that place
where You'll be;
I'll stand barefoot
on Holy ground,
accepted,
forever enough:
make me a storm,
just so I know I'm okay,
just so I know
I can make another day.





ORIGINAL

Held by The Wind


I.

I was broken that day, 
so You made
a beautiful storm;
I ran and stood
in the middle of the street
like some crazy woman
who just doesn't care anymore
near where some other houses
weren't built yet,
and where others
could easily see,
hoping You'd lift me up
into the safety of your whirlwind,
pull me into where You were;
You kissed me,
moved me with Your lovely swirling power,
in a softened, perfected blend of watercolour:
billowing greys, oranges, and blues.

II.

Gently nudged, in warm pushes 
and cool gusts, lifting silk,
you waltzed my dandling frou-frou
fluffing shirttail and collar,
caressing my eyelids,
that kiss I'd always dreamed;
you fingertipped
my face and brow,
then held me close
and whispered in thunders,
"It will be okay, kid";
You knew I was growing,
open to revelation,
learning simplicity's secret
and the terrible cost of this war;
so You came down that day,
hearing my whimpers
of loathesome lonelies,
showing just a small part of Yourself,
one I could manage,
one I could handle,
because I am so tiny
and You are so great.

III.

I want another gentle storm,
more kisses, another chance
You'll lift me away in Your whirlwind
like You almost did that day
in the crumbling parking lot
next to The Henry Ford
when I wanted to die, crawl, but instead
You had me stand,
press against Your mighty wind,
lean into the majesty
of all power,
"go ahead, fall forward", You said,
but I didn't
and You knew I wouldn't,
because You held me there
with Your two big hands, gently.

IV.

Make me another storm,
reassure me I'm yours,
call me to that place
where You'll be;
I'll stand shoeless
on Your Holy ground
held,
forever acceptable,
forever enough:
make me a storm,
just so I know I'm okay,
just so I know
I can make another day.
Janine Burke
there's always a better reason to love

Reply
#2
(06-18-2017, 12:45 PM)nibbed Wrote:  Held by The Wind

I.

I was broken that day, 
so You made
a beautiful storm;     … I was broken the day/ you sent the storm
I ran and stood
in the middle of the street
like some crazy woman
who just doesn't care anymore    this line and the one above are a little superficial and distracting from the subject´s feelings 
near where some other houses
weren't built yet,
and where others
could easily see,       don´t get why the houses or being seen are important
hoping You'd lift me up
into the safety of your whirlwind,
pull me into where You were;               maybe just “pull me near you”
You kissed me,
moved me with Your lovely swirling power,       too lovely for my taste BUT that´s irrelevant
in a softened, perfected blend of watercolour:
billowing greys, oranges, and blues.

II.

Gently nudged, in warm pushes 
and cool gusts, lifting silk,
you waltzed my dandling frou-frou   somehow can´t fit the frou-frou and all into the poem
fluffing shirttail and collar,
caressing my eyelids,
that kiss I'd always dreamed;
you fingertipped
my face and brow,
then held me close
and whispered in thunders,
"It will be okay, kid";
You knew I was growing,     I´d erase the comma
open to revelation,
learning simplicity's secret
and the terrible cost of this war;               which war? which cost?
so You came down that day,
hearing my whimpers
of loathesome lonelies,
showing just a small part of Yourself,          
one I could manage,                             
one I could handle, -----   a repetition of the previous line. maybe just write “one I could manage,/  being too tiny for all of you” and then omitt the last three lines.
because I am so tiny               
and You are so great.

III.

I want another gentle storm,
more kisses, another chance
You'll lift me away in Your whirlwind                 another chance/  to be carried away in your…
like You almost did that day
in the crumbling parking lot
next to The Henry Ford
when I wanted to die, crawl, but instead               I´d leave “wanted to die” out: “when I wanted to lay down/ but instead, you had me stand”
You had me stand,
press against Your mighty wind,       “lean into your majestical wind” and omit the following 2 lines?
lean into the majesty
of all power,
"go ahead, fall forward", You said,       “try to fall, you won´t” or something
but I didn't                                             i´d try to get the last 4 lines shorter, something like “and I didn´t/  cause I could trust you to hold me”
and You knew I wouldn't,
because You held me there
with Your two big hands, gently.   

IV.

Make me another storm,                 
reassure me that I'm yours,
call me to that place
where You'll be;
I'll stand shoeless                 barefoot?
on Your Holy ground
held,                           that line I´d leave out
forever acceptable,               accepted instead of acceptable?
forever enough:
make me a storm,
just so I know I'm okay,
just so I know
I can make another day.      

I like the story you tell, it could be a little more condensed in my opinion. made far too many suggestions.. just ideas.
Reply
#3
(06-20-2017, 01:46 AM)vagabond Wrote:  
(06-18-2017, 12:45 PM)nibbed Wrote:  Held by The Wind

I.

I was broken that day, 
so You made
a beautiful storm;     … I was broken the day/ you sent the storm
I ran and stood
in the middle of the street
like some crazy woman
who just doesn't care anymore    this line and the one above are a little superficial and distracting from the subject´s feelings 
near where some other houses
weren't built yet,
and where others
could easily see,       don´t get why the houses or being seen are important
hoping You'd lift me up
into the safety of your whirlwind,
pull me into where You were;               maybe just “pull me near you”
You kissed me,
moved me with Your lovely swirling power,       too lovely for my taste BUT that´s irrelevant
in a softened, perfected blend of watercolour:
billowing greys, oranges, and blues.

II.

Gently nudged, in warm pushes 
and cool gusts, lifting silk,
you waltzed my dandling frou-frou   somehow can´t fit the frou-frou and all into the poem
fluffing shirttail and collar,
caressing my eyelids,
that kiss I'd always dreamed;
you fingertipped
my face and brow,
then held me close
and whispered in thunders,
"It will be okay, kid";
You knew I was growing,     I´d erase the comma
open to revelation,
learning simplicity's secret
and the terrible cost of this war;               which war? which cost?
so You came down that day,
hearing my whimpers
of loathesome lonelies,
showing just a small part of Yourself,          
one I could manage,                             
one I could handle, -----   a repetition of the previous line. maybe just write “one I could manage,/  being too tiny for all of you” and then omitt the last three lines.
because I am so tiny               
and You are so great.

III.

I want another gentle storm,
more kisses, another chance
You'll lift me away in Your whirlwind                 another chance/  to be carried away in your…
like You almost did that day
in the crumbling parking lot
next to The Henry Ford
when I wanted to die, crawl, but instead               I´d leave “wanted to die” out: “when I wanted to lay down/ but instead, you had me stand”
You had me stand,
press against Your mighty wind,       “lean into your majestical wind” and omit the following 2 lines?
lean into the majesty
of all power,
"go ahead, fall forward", You said,       “try to fall, you won´t” or something
but I didn't                                             i´d try to get the last 4 lines shorter, something like “and I didn´t/  cause I could trust you to hold me”
and You knew I wouldn't,
because You held me there
with Your two big hands, gently.   

IV.

Make me another storm,                 
reassure me that I'm yours,
call me to that place
where You'll be;
I'll stand shoeless                 barefoot?
on Your Holy ground
held,                           that line I´d leave out
forever acceptable,               accepted instead of acceptable?
forever enough:
make me a storm,
just so I know I'm okay,
just so I know
I can make another day.      

I like the story you tell, it could be a little more condensed in my opinion. made far too many suggestions.. just ideas.




Thank you so much vagabond. I will go over and over every bit of what you said/suggested.
Thank you for considering my poem.

janine
Janine Burke
there's always a better reason to love

Reply
#4
Hello Janine. I read the original at an earlier time. I will try not to look at it, or any of the other comments. Some notes on the edit. Even if it is in Misc. 

(06-18-2017, 12:45 PM)nibbed Wrote:  Held by The Wind
I.

When I crumbled,
You came quickly
as a beautiful storm;    
You knew I'd run and stand
in the middle of the street,
a crazy woman
hands held high,
who doesn't care from here...
what people think
 
only hoping
You'd pull me closer
nearer to where You are. ...to here, the tense gets lost. It seems to go from present to past to present.           
You kissed me, moved me
with Your lovely swirling power,      
in a softened,
perfected blend
of watercolour: billowing greys,
oranges, and blues.

II.

Gently nudging,
in warm pushes and cool gusts, cool gusts sounds a lot less 'gentle' than warm pushes
You lifted silks
as You waltzed my    
shirttails and collar,

caressing my eyelids,
with that kiss
I'd always only dreamed; only ever
You fingertipped "finger painted" might work nicely with watercolor mentioned earlier. 
my face and brow,

You held me close
whispering in thunders,
"It will be okay, kid";
knowing I was growing,    
opening to revelation,
learning simplicity's secret
and the terrible cost of this war;              

You came down that day,
hearing my lonely whimpers
showing just one small part of Yourself,          
one I could handle,
because I am so tiny              
and You are so great.

III.

Just another gentle storm, please.
More kisses, another chance
You'll lift me,
carry me away in Your whirlwind                
like You almost did that day
in the crumbling parking lot
next to The Henry Ford
when I wanted to lie down,
crawl, but You had me stand,
pressed against your mighty wind,
leaning into Your majestic power,
"trust me", You said,
"go ahead, fall!"      
but I didn't                                            
and You knew I wouldn't
because you held me there
knowing I believe in You.

IV.

Make me another storm,                
reassure me I'm yours,
call me to that place
where You'll be;
I'll stand barefoot
on Holy ground,
accepted,
forever enough:
make me a storm,
just so I know I'm okay,
just so I know
I can make another day.      
 




ORIGINAL

Held by The Wind


I.

I was broken that day, 
so You made
a beautiful storm;
I ran and stood
in the middle of the street
like some crazy woman
who just doesn't care anymore
near where some other houses
weren't built yet,
and where others
could easily see,
hoping You'd lift me up
into the safety of your whirlwind,
pull me into where You were;
You kissed me,
moved me with Your lovely swirling power,
in a softened, perfected blend of watercolour:
billowing greys, oranges, and blues.

II.

Gently nudged, in warm pushes 
and cool gusts, lifting silk,
you waltzed my dandling frou-frou
fluffing shirttail and collar,
caressing my eyelids,
that kiss I'd always dreamed;
you fingertipped
my face and brow,
then held me close
and whispered in thunders,
"It will be okay, kid";
You knew I was growing,
open to revelation,
learning simplicity's secret
and the terrible cost of this war;
so You came down that day,
hearing my whimpers
of loathesome lonelies,
showing just a small part of Yourself,
one I could manage,
one I could handle,
because I am so tiny
and You are so great.

III.

I want another gentle storm,
more kisses, another chance
You'll lift me away in Your whirlwind
like You almost did that day
in the crumbling parking lot
next to The Henry Ford
when I wanted to die, crawl, but instead
You had me stand,
press against Your mighty wind,
lean into the majesty
of all power,
"go ahead, fall forward", You said,
but I didn't
and You knew I wouldn't,
because You held me there
with Your two big hands, gently.

IV.

Make me another storm,
reassure me I'm yours,
call me to that place
where You'll be;
I'll stand shoeless
on Your Holy ground
held,
forever acceptable,
forever enough:
make me a storm,
just so I know I'm okay,
just so I know
I can make another day.

I will stop the as it's misc. and these are details. There is a lot here worth polishing.
Thanks for the read,
Paul

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