And So It Ends: Arrivederci 2013 and Hello 2014

I wanted to make the post a reflection on 2013, but I committed myself to posting most of my works here until the end of the year. Seeing as this is the last day I will be able to post before the new year (because I will be at Empower and The Rock), I am going to finish what I started. That being said, I will make the first post of 2014 a reflection/anticipation post. Without further ado, I give you the final post of my works from all time.

Feral Imp

By Josh Watkins

Inspired by Shel Silverstein

A feral imp came across my stare

I did a double take to find that he wasn't there.

I cursed my weak eyes for missing such a sight,

Oh what I would do to capture one tonight.

What is a feral imp? You challenge my truth?

I’ll do my best, but I am not a sleuth.

He is as slow as a lightning strike, quick as a snail,

He rides raindrops and lassos unruly hail.

He is as tall as a mouse,

And is skinny as a house.

He snatches snitches, flips faulty switches,

Has uncontrollable twitches and backhands witches.

His grin glows in the black,

And is all deserving of a good smack,

But his charm is one of a kind,

Aromatic as a pig’s mud drenched behind.

His craft is that of a thief,

He’ll swipe your spoons, your undies, and beef.

Your pencils, screws, and rubber bands,

Any little thing he can clench in his deceivingly tiny hands.

Still don’t believe me? Fine see if I care.

Your fate will be dealt, but beware,

His antics will cause you to lose your all your hair,

So test his patience if you dare.

Oh look! There he is right here before you,

I told you no lies, it is all true!

Every word I said, he’s like no other.

Wait what’s that you say…Oh I guess you’re right…he is my little brother.

A thought came to me once to write a comical poem about a feral imp. But I needed more than that to give it finesse, flare, zing. So I decided to write it in the same style as Shel Silverstein, a late great comedic poet. 

During my senior year of high school, I took a journalism class and every once in a while during class, my teacher would give us one line and tell us to take 10 minutes and write something based on that line. A certain one in particular, sent me on a journey I never expected to take. The line was "I'm going home with you." Being a romantic I took this as the perfect opportunity to write an ending to a powerful love story. In those ten minutes, this is what I came up with. 

"I am going home with you," she said as she kissed his soft lips. "I want to stay with you forever." "You know I cannot take you with me," he said. "But I don't want to let you go either." The sun was slowly skipping away on the last day of summer. The wind was laughing and dancing as it blew by, releasing its final breaths of warm air. Her fingers crept along the leather seats and slowly interlaced with his. "This summer has changed me a lot," she said. "It's the best I have been in a long time." "I know," he replied. "I feel the exact same way." He couldn't help but stare into her precious baby blue eyes and see the life that was in her. His heart was throbbing, his arms were shaking, yet his eyes remained fixed upon her. 

"Let's just drive," she said. "let the road lead us to our future." She kissed him again. She watched him grow from a young weak little boy into a strong and loving man. From the moment she saw him, she knew he was the one. A screech broke the unwavering silence as a great bald eagle soared above them. She smiled as he put his arm around her waist. Then, putting the car into drive, he turned to her and said "Alright, I am with you, you are my life."He kissed her once more. As they began to disappear beyond the horizon, two snow-white doves flew in unison in the silhouette of the sun.

Being the goody-goody student that I was, when the teacher asked me to share it with the class, I did, but with a little hesitation. If you recall the I Love You For the First Time piece and how I mentioned I had read a romantic piece in front of a group of people before, well this was it. The problem was that there were 24 students in that class (including me) and 23 of them were girls. Let me tell you that to do that took some serious guts. Lets just say that the room was speechless in awe and I couldn't believe I did that. But I had to know for sure if it was worth going further. So I put it on facebook and got an amazing response. I decided that I was going to write the rest of the story.

I took me a little over one year to complete, but I wrote a 154 page word document story that had a total of 66 "chapters" and each one was posted facebook. It was by far my greatest project and I couldn't believe I had written that much. It could be considered a book. As a special treat, I am going to post the first chapter here, and if you want to read the rest, you will have to check my notes on facebook and read it all yourself. or ask me and I'll see about getting you the entire thing. On a side note, The ending is different then that 10 minute paragraph above because I didn't have everything in my head and made it up as I went along. Also I may publish it one day and am fully aware that it needs a lot of editing, but as you read further into it, the writing gets much better.

 “She’s so beautiful,” he thought to himself as she passed by. He had been watching her for weeks now. It was Sunday evening and he was sitting in the park, watching nature run its course. He was sitting on an old faded bench. In fact, it was the very bench he was sitting on when he first noticed her. He had seen her at the Sunday morning meetings and knew she took occasional walks through the nearby park. He couldn’t shift his gaze every time she walked by. There was just something about this girl he couldn’t quite figure out. Was it her angelic face? Was it her long, golden hair? Her baby blue eyes? The way she said hello? He didn’t know what it was, but what he did know is that his heart wouldn’t let her get away. “Maybe I should tell her,” he thought. “How would she react? What would she say?” 

These thoughts weaved in and out of his mind until he was interrupted by a loud barking. He looked up and saw a golden retriever chasing some confused and terrified pigeons. Running frantically behind the dog was a distraught girl, but not just any girl; it was the one who had captured his heart. He rubbed his eyes to make sure he wasn’t seeing things, and then realizing that this was his chance, he leaped off the bench with ease and flew toward the wayward dog. The retriever, thinking that strange person running toward him wanted to play, stopped chasing the pigeons and charged full speed towards him. Knowing that he needed to catch this dog, he did not break his pace. When the dog was only feet from him, he whistled which made the dog slow a little a turn sharply. At the last possible second, he made a dive and caught the dog’s leash with his fingertips. The dog, caught by surprised, yelped and tried to get away. He walked slowly to the dog and put his hand to the dog’s nose so the dog could sniff it. Seeing the human was harmless, the dog laid down by his feet. “Thank you so much!” she said as she ran up to him breathless. “Buddy is such a handful sometimes, but he gives me plenty of exercise.” “He is a good-looking dog,” he replied. “I see you like to bring Buddy here often.” “Yeah”, she said, “I’ve been going to this park since I was little, it is so well kept and it is peaceful.” “It is beautiful,” he said. “You go to my church don’t you?” she asked “Yes I do,” he replied. “Well I have to get going,” she said. “My Chemistry professor isn’t making it easy and her tests are killer. I’ll see you later.” “Yeah I’ll see you,” he said. She then turned and jogged off with the retriever pulling her along. 
Once again lost in a trance, he just stood there and watched her disappear. His head was spinning and his heart was thumping. “She is so breath-taking,” he thought. “I didn’t even ask for her number. Shoot.” He began to turn and head for home when something shiny caught his eye. There on the ground, half-hidden by dead leaves, was a charm necklace, and imprinted on it was her name. His eyes began to twinkle as he realized he had a second perfect opportunity; twice in one day! The sun was going down and darkness was settling in fast. “I can’t take it to her now,” he thought. As he headed home, he could hear her voice singing to him through the midnight air.

One last thing. I wanted to end this escapade with the poem that asks you where do you wander? This is where my life has taken me and y'all experienced some of that journey through my writings. Now the question becomes, how about you? I have posted this here before, but after it I will give an explanation of it.

Where Do You Wander?

By Josh Watkins

Upon what path do your feet trod O dreamer?

Describe to me the details of its splendor.

Do you walk upon a short, dust-filled path?

Where many have stepped before?

Do you wander upon briers long and twisted as the eye sees fit?

Is thy path endless, dark and bleak?

Laden with scorching coals and embers rare?

Are your feet scarred and slashed by stones forever encased in the dirt?

Is your breath restrained for fear of avalanche?

Or can you see the Artist’s horizon?

Where do thy toes dangle?

Off the gleaming bricks shaped of gold?

Off the prism’s guarded treasure?

How far down your path does your will desire?

Will you reach its end or will you die along the way?

Is your path lined with roses of red, daisies of yellow, lilies of lavender?

Do notes of melody swarm your destination?

Does the star of fire kiss your skin?

Tell me O dreamer and please my ears,

Are you trapped upon a road carved with lies?

Do you wander in deceit?

Are your feet bound by guilt and slowed by shame?

Prove me wrong! Silence my persistent questioning!

Tell me that you walk along the Way,

That you are running to the Truth,

That you have discovered the route of Eternal Life.

So many paths awaiting your step,

So many vanities at each end.

Yet one and only one will satisfy your dreams.

This is the path Hope,

This is the path of Life,

This is the path of Salvation,

This is the path of Jesus Christ.

I wander this path.

Where do your feet trod O dreamer?

The beginning asks you "Where are you going?" Then it hints suggestively about places you could be going to maybe get you to notice yourself. The first asks if you are going with the flow and following others footsteps and not your own. Then it asks if your path is dark, dangerous, if you can even see where you are going. Next, it inquires of if you are timid or can you see God's beauty. Is your path golden? Do you wander a colorful path full of hope (prism's guarded treasure=rainbow)? Is the path you walk one you'll reach the end of? Is it peaceful, harmonic, warm-fuzzy-feeling-like? Are you tricked? Gullible? Living a lie? Or are you walking along the one True path. The path that leads to hope, peace, love, salvation, and eternity. As the poem ends, "That is the path of Jesus Christ."  

And so ends this experiment/project. I really do hope y'all enjoyed it and I am glad I followed the urge to share it all with you. There are more writings, but those are personal and private to me and are not ready for the world to see yet. Maybe one day. Until then keep dreaming, shoot for those dreams, fight for those dreams, come to know Christ, follow Christ, and embrace everything He is and everything He has to offer. Here's to another great year and here's to looking forward to what 2014 has to offer. Praise God! 

Country Music's Finest

A Tribute to a Country Great

By Josh Watkins

         

          Here I sit On the Coast of Somewhere Beautiful, pondering a certain thought; a thought that Makes Me Wonder quite often. I sit on this beach with a Pirate Flag and The Good Stuff, along with Dreams dancing in my mind. These images are of someone who I could say that You Had Me From Hello. As I relax in an Old Blue Chair I could honestly say that Life is Good and I Never Wanted Nothin’ More.

I think about my future Down the Road, but first I Go Back and I see myself In a Small Town. It’s Summertime, there are Guitars and Tiki Bars, and around here Time Flies. I’m Living in Fast Forward while wearing nothing but a pair of swim trunks. No Shoes, No Shirt, No Problems. This must be How Forever Feels.

An old man sits in the corner of a nearby bar, playing a guitar and singing about life Somewhere in the Sun and his glory days with Beer in Mexico and a Keg in the Closet. I toss a few bucks into his guitar case and say “Sing Em’ Good My Friend.” He nodded his head in gratitude and when he finished his song he motioned me to Come Over. I pulled up a pile of sand and he offered me some advice I will never forget.

He told me of his story of a love long ago; a beautiful girl who dreamed of being a Big Star. He met her on El Cerrito Place and said “From the moment I saw her, I knew she was Anything But Mine. She was ambitious, a go-getter, and was destined for California. Yet, I was determined and a good friend of mine told me the only thing I could do was ‘Be As You Are.’ Soon after, she let me become a part of her life. Like most kids, we were Young and dumb and I was facing the Reality of becoming a father. All I could think was ‘There Goes My Life.’”

He then told me that the mother chose Hollywood over her child and that she was Better As a Memory. The only thing that mattered to him was his blonde-haired, blue-eyed little girl. The old man had a twinkle in his eye and said “My advice is this; keep that lass over there close, Live a Little, and most importantly, Don’t Blink.”

Those words still ring throughout my heart as I daily Live Those Songs. Now whenever I look into those twinkling eyes and see that loving smile, I tell her that it’s Always Gonna Be You.

I wrote this piece this past summer in tribute to one of my favorite country music artists of all time...Kenny Chesney. This story is completely fictitious and is composed of his song titles and some of my favorites. 

If you don't like country music, fine. Just read it for the writing. And hey, if you let me, I can change your mind about country music. I've successfully done so to three people. 

As a special treat, here's the link to my favorite Chesney Christmas song. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pwojekKN9OE Merry Christmas!

Blow Your Mind Open

Special Note: Please don't read the description after the poem until you have your own thoughts of what each aspect means. This piece is meant to expand your imagination. Build your own ideas first before building off my actual thoughts. Prepare to open your mind!

Open Your Mind

By Josh Watkins

Chocolate rivers flow from the serenity of an eagle’s cliff,

The taste of key-lime pie lingers on my lips.

Rare is the wind that carries the flagship’s sail,

Enthralled by the complex vision of the artist’s easel.

An epic turned tragedy by a lion’s roar,

For words confound emotion, but the sword smites the heart.

Amber waves of grain cover the camel’s back,

And fruited sands conceal the diamond’s glow.

A shuttle on a star cooks an omelet well,

Bacon eases the tension of even the giant’s nerves.

The man whose coat shines is ruled by the man whose house is made of stone,

And whose floors are colder than ice,

Yet his path is constructed by beauty’s blissful attraction.

A blue shirt destroys gloom’s dull allure,

Foreseeing the black army swarm the green sea.

A leprechaun’s hat conceals the fire about to ensue,

Yet the gold is as safe as a roach in a monk’s sanctuary.

Poison barbs from the writer’s pen,

Shatter the mirrors of time while distorting the chronicle’s hue.

The doe’s fawn makes the red berry bleed,

And the sandman’s bag is full of rocks.

Algorithms know no numbers, only letters and trolls,

Weary is the spoon whose course no silver flows.

Shoelaces taste like Twizzlers coated in sugar,

A typhoon’s waves hold the key to the monkey’s laugh.

Toe-jam and peanut butter make a good sand-witch,

Yet she is saltier than a soft pretzel in July.

Throngs of thieves thwart the gumshoe’s thoughts,

Bands of bees bite the donkey’s bum.

This tale ends where the end begins to end the beginning.   

The idea for this piece came from a sporadic event that happened during my Christian internship. A fellow intern name Julian Taylor decided to bombard another fellow intern (Grace Wang) with random texts and got others (including myself) to participate in it. For those that know me, I like to be random at times and I thoroughly enjoyed messing with Grace. Then I got the idea to let the randomness in my mind flow and put it on paper...yet it wasn't all random as you will find out.

There are three aspects to this piece. The first is that some series of lines have a unified thought, meaning they describe one thing with a series of pictures. The second is that one line describes one thing, but has no connection to anything else. The third and final aspect is that some of these lines have absolutely no meaning and can be whatever you want. Now that you know the code, let's see how you fared with "expanding your mind."

Chocolate serenity flows from the eagle's cliff: This is just a few of my favorite things meshed in a poetic rhyme. Chocolate, eagle, and serenity. Another way I saw it was a giant, sparkling, chocolate waterfall flowing from a cliff where an eagle calls home. Hey it's my imagination, I'll do with it as I please.

Key Lime Pie: I was craving key lime pie.

Flagship and Artist's Easel: A vast and mighty warship, the kind in the days of the pirates, fresh out of the dock, and it's the flagship of a fleet bound for war, but the captain halts the fleet. The wind is absent. What caused an adrenaline raging war monster to halt? The complex vision of the Artist's easel. The captain saw the beauty in the sky created by the setting sun colliding with the sea. God's artistic eye for creating the beauty in a simple sunset, halted even the mightiest life-taking force.

Epic turned tragedy by lion's roar: Epic and tragedy are both literary types. The Illiad and Odyssey are epics and Oedipus Rex is a tragedy. A lion's roar is strong, powerful, meant to be feared. This line means that the best of things are turned to the worst of things by the mightiest voice around. The roar of the critics, the crowd, and the people. Governments have been overthrown, empires have been toppled, and harmony has been shattered.

Words/emotion sword/heart: Emotion expresses itself and sometimes there are no words to describe that feeling and using words may only make the emotion worse (hence the roar). However, words are powerful and can take the place of a physical sword. Words can damage the heart.

Camel/diamonds: This was a totally random way to describe the back of a camel...or the amber waves of grain are the plants that cover a mountain (camel's humps) which contains fruited sands (crushed minerals) that bury diamonds deep in the earth where the sun light can't reach them and reveal the diamond's shining power.

Shuttle, Omelet, bacon, giant: These are facts of wisdom. If you want an omelet cooked quickly and well, take it on a space ship and land on a star. The heat from a star will cook an omelet well. Bacon is so good that even an angry giant will calm down if you give him it.

The man whose coat shines + next two lines: This is a complex portrayal of a knight. Shiny coats of armor are what knights wear. The man whose house is made of stone is a king in his castle. The knight only has one path; to rescue a damsel in distress (beauty's blissful attraction).

Blue Shirt/Black Army/Green Sea: I wanted to use color to make simple things seem profound. Blue is an amazing color. The sky is blue, the sea (depending on where you are) is blue, the base of a hot fire is blue, most babies eyes start out blue, etc. So someone who is down notices a person wearing a blue shirt can't help but smile. Blue is awesome. In this case it is a sad little boy wearing a blue shirt, but he sees a colony of ants (black army) racing into the grass (green sea) and it totally makes his day.

Leprechaun/Monk's sanctuary: Leprechaun's are supposed to have red hair and when they get angry (like someone stealing their gold) I imagine it bursting into non-quenching flames, but his hat hides that. As far as I know, no one has ever acquired a leprechaun's gold. Roaches are among the world's most loathed bugs, but monks believe in the quality of all life, therefore any living thing that enters their sanctuary will not be harmed. So a leprechaun's gold is extremely safe.

Poison/Time/Chronicles: Like I said before, words are powerful. Not all good comes from them, even writing them down. Hateful and deadly words can be written and because they are, they can change people's opinions (changing the outcomes of history) and in doing so, mess up a perfectly sound chronology by turning it from a colorful hope to a black outcome.

Doe's fawn/Sandman: A baby deer eats a strawberry and its juice flows out. What is sand? Crushed rock. So if you think about it, the sandman's bag is truly full of rocks...maybe some un-crushed ones ended up in his bag hence the nightmares...imagination is a wonderful thing.

Algorithms: My experience with these is that they are mostly annoying symbols and Greek letters that you spend hours trying to solve hence the trolling of your mind.

Weary spoon: Think about it. If you have a stainless steel spoon, it is used and washed every week (maybe every day) therefore it is weary. But a silver spoon will be kept in a set, most likely in a felt case behind glass.

Shoelaces of Twizzler flavor: This is just silliness inspired by Shel Silverstein's poem If the World Was Crazy. He says he'd wear licorice shoes if the world was crazy, so I imagined sugar coated Twizzler shoelaces.

A typhoon's waves/monkey's laugh: Monkeys love mischief. They are usually in the vicinity of danger, but never close enough to be harmed. So I imagine a typhoon destroying beach houses and the monkeys screeching in terror or howling with laughter. A little dark I know, but hey it could be truth.

Toe-jam/soft pretzel: This is playing with play-on words. Toe-jam is an actual disease, but here it sounds like a spread that a vile creature would eat (a witch) and you put it on a sand-witch (sandwich or witch covered in sand). Yet this witch, even though sandy, is salty (grumpy or bitter). To describe how salty, I used the soft pretzel in July image. Those are scrumptious  by the way.

Throngs of Thieves and Bands of Bees: This is alliteration at it's finest. Alliteration is where the beginning syllables of most words in a single sentence sound the same. In this case I took two simple pictures and put them into alliteration. Thieves eluding a detective trying to find them and bees harassing a donkey.

Now after your mind has been put to the most extensive labor it has in a long time, the biggest puzzle comes in the last line. I'm going to leave the mystery of this line for you to solve. Here is your only hint: some of the stuff in that line is just noise and will help you narrow down the meaning if you eliminate it.

I had a lot of fun writing this and could write another one ten times longer. But I would need motivation to do so. Remember, imagination is a terrible thing to waste. With all the technology trapping today's kids and the lack of help from parents who allow their children to be consumed by it, it's hard to use something so magical. Imagination leads to dreams. Dreams lead to hope. Hope leads to striving. Striving leads to success. Success leads to reality.

The Lady in Black

The Lady in Black

By Josh Watkins

Saw the thunder coming, but heard no rain.

Watched the rage build, but the wrath never came.

Felt like it was going to judge me, but I bore no shame.

Totally lost all sense of reality, because of this dame.

A whisper was all it took, to turn my deaf ear,

Its silenced drum could now hear the drop of a tear.

Punches came flying in from the rear,

Hot was the flame that gave my poor heart a sear.

The femme fatale was my only crutch,

Chased every beauty and such,

Some say she had stolen way too much,

But I couldn't resist her irresistible touch.

The sirens wailed and screamed,

The people scolded as I only dreamed,

One kind soul told me I was going to get creamed,

Hope was slim and love was bleak…or so it seemed.

Stood there as the hail hit my face,

Unflinching as my flesh scattered all over the place,

Wondering if when it was over there’d be even a trace,

Would I be the hero or just a forgotten disgrace?

For years the storms brewed a threatening force,

With demons leading the charge on a black horse,

I stood alone on the hellish course,

And it was love’s ache that created the source.

Fire and brimstone barred my way,

The naysayers spewed many a nay,

She will consume your very being they say,

But through hell and back is the price I’m willing to pay.

They came in angry droves and masses,

Waving their steel and firing their brasses,

The air was thicker than a lake of molasses,

Not even a fly by here it passes.

Through the gloom I saw her there,

Letting the foul wind carry her hair,

A hundred miles of hell did I dare?

Only for a she, and lady so rare.

Picked up my sword and dashed through the night,

Cutting down the cursed left and right,

Watching them fall, eyes filled with spite,

Not once did I let her out of my sight.

The fire was relentless, causing great pain,

Nearly fell to my knees from a soul driver’s chain,

How I longed for the sky to release its soothing rain,

Fearing I would burn in death’s bottomless drain.

One last devil drew his blade from its hilt,

Forged by a thousand souls of men it was built,

My poor heart was about to dry up and wilt,

At the sight of how much blood that thing had spilt.

From his nostrils poured a cloud of smoke,

Eyes bloodshot as if high on a thousand pounds of coke,

His mighty jaws moved and this he spoke,

“Death awaits you my darling little joke.”

Clutched my blade and leapt towards the sky,

Dodging fireballs as they flew on by,

Swung the steel from my right thigh,

Severing his ugly head…so the body would die.

They howled and shrieked as they were dragged below,

Never again this stranger they would know,

To some far crueler place they would go,

And all I saw was her charming glow.

Stepped out of the clouded mist,

Released the sword clenched in my fist,

Up the hill I walked holding my bruised wrist,

To see the face I could not resist.

There she stood all covered in black,

Not once had I veered from the deadly track,

Nor did I turn my gaze and look back,

I reached for the part of my heart that I lacked.

Before I could speak, her fingers held my lips tight,

She turned to me and matched my sight,

From her mouth came the word of a fragile sprite.

“This fight was not yours wrong or right.”

“I admire your courage to make it all the way through,

The hellish armies sent to destroy you,

But if you wouldn't have been blind and only knew,

There is another. I bid you adieu.”

With those cold words she vanished beyond my gaze,

Left my broken self, there in a daze,

To reach this point even the Legion had to raise,

The once known path now a thorn-marred maze.

My knees hit the earth, heart jabbed by a pin,

Clearly she didn't want this ol’ boy to win,

Returned to her true love; the world and its sin,

And left me there to ponder what could have been.

Here is the third and finale part in my three-part character series. Every once in awhile I begin playing with words and putting them in facebook statuses and deleting them until I find something I like. I started with a storm and wrote the first verse, then it all came to me like a bolt of lightning and I knew it was going to be a poem rather than a measly status update.

There are two different ways to look at this piece. The first is to take it literally. A guy has fallen for a mysterious woman and to get to her he has to fight through a literal horde of demons only to have his ploy be in vain.

Here's the hidden meaning: Both this man and this woman are caught up in dastardly things (in this case prostitution). Eventually, the guy comes to his senses and realizes he is up to his neck in sin and that he needs to get out. Yet, he has fallen in love with this woman. So to save himself and her as well, he battles through his and her spiritual demons (Pre-marital sex, prostitution, drugs, crime, lust, drunkenness, etc). When he reaches he beats them all, he offers her hope. But she is so consumed by her lusts and pleasures that she saw him as nothing more than a money-producing fling and returned to her demons and sins.

In Depth Analysis: The first verse is him "waking up" and realizing all the judgement, punishment, and criticism that should becoming his way. But because he repented, there was no need. Yet his heart still longed for her. The next few verses healthy desire for her and all the people who care about him telling him to walk away. The next two tell of his realization of the slavery he was under and how the attacks of demonic forces only grew when he had finally seen the light.

When he finally chooses to resist the demons, they fight at full force. Steel are swords and brasses are bullet casings. The description of the battle entails the pain he had to endure to overcome two sets of demons (his and hers which included addiction withdraw and desire to fulfill lust). The big demon in the end is her demon that caused her to lose her purity and sleep with hundreds of men. The demon's sword represents all the lives ruined by her actions. Not only the hundreds she slept with, but the families of those men whose lives she damaged. 

Finally, he defeats his demons and enough of hers to actually get her to see the mess they were in. However, in this case, her lust was greater than her desire to enter the light (hence her dressed in all black appearance) and she chose to return to her filth over salvation.

This piece was written to show that even though we try to guide someone into the light, they may refuse it. But no matter how bleak the situation may seem, it shows that we should be willing to go through hell to redeem a person from the hell they are damning themselves to. I've got friends where hope seems lost, and it's been 7+ years since I started fighting for some of them, and almost nothing has changed. Jesus neveer gave up on us so there is no way I'm ever giving up on them. This is a spiritual war that has a great cost, but it totally worth the battle. So pick up that sword and fight. Answer the Call of Duty.

A Magical Tale

Old Man Fred

By Josh Watkins

I once knew a man with a crooked cane,

Who lived upon a street called Hummingbird Lane.

He wore a brown leather coat and a navy blue beret,

A quiet man was he with almost never a word to say.

Daily he could be seen carrying a loaf of bread,

And the playful children would cry “There goes Old Man Fred!”

Parents thought it rude, but he didn't mind one bit,

He just walked to the beach and on the shores he would sit.

For days he sat there staring out over the sea,

Until one curious child by the name of Tommy Lee,

Skipped over to his spot with his cheeks all rosy red,

Saying “Why do you just sit here Old Man Fred?”

He just smiled and looked at the lad,

Seeing the youth he once had.

“Come here and pull up a pile of sand,

And I will tell you a tale so wonderfully grand.”

It was on this day 50 years past,

That I met a sweet, darling young lass.

I saw her coming across the sea,

On a ship so gallant, so big, so free.

The wind carried her hair down her back,

And not a sparkle did her stare lack.

She caught my gaze from afar,

A poor young fisherman was my branded scar.

The ship made port and I got a better look,

At the character God had fashioned from His eternal book.

My knees trembled terribly and would not stop their shake,

For soon my humble acquaintance she would make.

 ‘Hello,” said she. ‘Have you been her all day?’

Her question caught me off guard for she came my way!

I stuttered and stammered till my words became clear,

‘Yes Ma’am, every day this entire year.’

 Her beauty awed my weary soul,

As my heart craved for its only goal.

‘You’re such a fine young man,’ she said with a smile.

‘Come; let’s wander this little town for a while.

My heart began beating out of its cage,

As a love story began to fill the stage.

She told me her dreams and why she had come to this land,

To leave her world behind and bury her feet in the sand.

She stole my heart that day and kept its key,

And told me she was hanging onto it for eternity.

For days my love for her only grew,

But each day it seemed so fresh and new.

Until one day she whispered into my ear,

“I have a secret,” she said shedding a tear.

“My father warned me about this place.

He said if I found love I would be a disgrace.”

I dared not speak for my words were lost,

Fearing how much this secret was going to cost.

“The sea is my home; it’s where I belong,

I can hear my family singing their song.

She inched toward the shore in such a fright,

As the moon rose high on that summer night.

Her legs vanished without a trace,

A tail and a blanket of scales had taken their place.

She was not human but a mermaid was she!

I rubbed my eyes and thought ‘how could this be?’

She turned to the ocean ready to return,

And my poor heart just ached and burned.

‘Wait! I cried ‘Please don’t go!

Take me with you for I love you so!

She turned to me with a glow in her eyes,

And then turned her gaze to the starlit skies.

“I cannot take you with me,

But I still have your key,

So watch the horizon, beyond the ocean blue,

And one day My Love I’ll return to you.”

Then in one splash she vanished from sight,

Since that day I have returned every night.

Waiting for my love, my heart’s desire,

And that my boy is why I sit around this fire.

The lad sat there in awe with no words to say,

He ran home to tell his mother what he had heard that day.

When he spoke the tale she shook her head,

She told him to stop telling lies and go to bed.

Morning came and back to the sea he ran,

Hoping to hear more from the wise old man.

To his surprise, there was no one there,

Just the sand, the sea, and the crisp ocean air.

The suddenly he saw a flash,

And saw not one, but two tails in the water splash.

The boy smiled and was filled with glee,

Right then and there he fell in love with the sea.

From that day forward whenever he would sail,

He never missed a moment to tell the old man’s tale.

They wouldn't believe him, but he didn't care what they said,

He never stopped telling the story of Old Man Fred.

When I was a kid, I was read stories and I read stories of of magical tales like this. I wanted to write one of my own and the character Old Man Fred popped into my head. So I just let my mind loose and wrote this tale in an aabb rhyme scheme. I don't think this piece equals those I read as a child, but I think i comes pretty darn close.

This poem was also an attempt to create a fictional romantic tale where a love starts young, endures time, and is renewed as young again. 

If you liked the first two (and haven't seen the third), then get excited because the next piece will be a change of what I normally write, keep you on the edge of your seat, and have a surprise ending. Stay tuned.

A Scurvy Pirate

One-Eyed Jack

By Josh Watkins

One-eyed Jack,

Scourge of the seven seas.

The wind at his command,

It bows below his knees.

The blade on his belt,

Clings firmly to his side;

It deals menacing blows,

While controlling a battle’s tide.

His face bears many wounds,

Each pulsing with hate;

Fear rules his foes’ hearts,

For death is their ultimate fate.

Treasure is his lust,

Gold his only love.

Diamonds emblaze his fingers,

Emeralds, his battle glove.

There on the horizon,

A mighty ship he spies.

Tis a Spanish galleon,

A vast and noble prize.

The sea grows cold and gray,

For blood is about to be shed,

A deadly battle is about to rage,

Soon to turn the blue waters red.

He hoists the Jolly Roger

To the top of the mast,

Sending the captain a message,

This battle is to be his last.

The captain turns his vessel,

And opens the cannon doors,

How he longs to be fighting

Back on the English moors.

 “Be brave!” the captain shouts

“This brigand we must slay!

To his Maker he must go;

For his evil deeds he must pay!”

The captain could now see Jack’s eye,

Its cold and deadly stare,

Neither man backed down,

Both ready to face the guns’ flare.

Jack grinded his teeth,

The captain clenched his fists,

“OPEN FIRE!” they both yelled,

And the guns blazed through the mist.

Iron balls tore through the sky,

Splintering wood and goring flesh,

Men lay dead in the sea,

The decks a bloody mess.

  The captain makes a daring charge,

Sailing within mere feet,

Fearing not the imminent danger,

One-eyed Jack he soon shall meet.

The ships suddenly collide,

With a mighty, splintering crash.

Pirates board the galleon,

Blades of cutlasses flash.

The captain sees the white of Jack’s eye,

And his menacing toothy grin.

His hand he places upon his sword

Praying this isn't a sin.

The captain and Jack draw their steel,

Clashing in a fiery rage,

Bullets flew, men fell,

Chaos filled the stage.

The established sea-men

Could not push back the scum

They moved by the will of demons,

Fueled by fire and rum.

 The captain was losing,

Jack’s crew had him beat.

Their future looked grim,

There was no retreat.

Then there was heard a violent blast,

Two gapping holes were made.

Both ships were doomed,

A lowly sailor’s debt was paid.

Jack roared with rage,

His eye became blood red,

Seeing all that gold

Spilling onto the sea bed.

The disturbed pirate lost control,

Swinging wildly to strike a blow.

The captain fought on,

Changing the battle’s flow.

The pirates tried to retreat,

But their sloop had just sunk,

They were now like rats

Trapped on a Chinese junk.

Jack made a run for the gold,

As his crew abandoned ship,

He took a blade across his back

And a bullet in his hip.

“To the life boats!”

The captain yelled.

“Not one more soul

On this day shall be felled!”

The captain drew his pistol,

At Jack’s head he aimed,

This pirate would die,

Broken, wounded, and maimed.

Jack laughed an evil laugh,

And drew his cutlass high,

He charged the captain straight,

Ignoring the pain in his thigh.

The pistol spewed shots of death,

Missing low and missing high,

But one lead ball hit its mark,

Right through Jack’s good eye.

The smoke from the burning hull

Clouded the once clear air,

The captain abandoned ship,

Waiting no longer did he dare.

 The survivors rowed

Out of harm’s way,

Thanking God that they

Lived to fight another day.

Another explosion then rocked the sky,

Gold and debris rained down,

Yet the body of One-eyed Jack

Was nowhere to be found.

Today as ships sail,

Not a sailor has the lack,

To tell the harrowing legend

Of the feared pirate One-eyed Jack.

This will begin a three piece series where each poem is a story about a fictional character I created. In each piece I attempt to tell each character's tale in the most epic way. When I look back on them, I am amazed at the story and detail I was able to tell from the simplest of inspiration. I take great pride in these pieces each of them touches different aspects of my life in a way. This one for example, spawns from my interest in the glory days of the pirates: Blackebeard and his Queen Anne's Revenge, Calico Jack, Henry Morgan, buried treasure, Spanish galleons, etc. 

The thought came to me when I was on my way home from a bible study during my Christian internship. Timothy had put a plastic spoon with a broken handle up over his eye and for some reason I thought of a pirate and how I had not written a piece on that topic before. I was going to call the pirate One-Eyed Tim, but I didn't want to associate Timothy with such an evil, so I borrowed a real pirate's name (Calico Jack Rackham) and created my own legend. 

Confusing lines: "A noble sailor's debt was paid". The sailor was once honorable and true, but then fell on hard times and greed ruled his heart. He left his job and became a pirate, terrorizing the men he once sailed with. In a battle he was captured, but his life was spared. He slowly was returning to what was good by starting from the bottom and serving as a servant on a Spanish galleon. Realizing his crew was in trouble and seeing that their gun deck was all but destroyed, he overloaded a functioning gun and lit the fuse. The blast blew the cannon to pieces, killing him. But his sacrifice put the fatal mark on Jack's ship and rendered his firing deck useless. Who knew one little verse could contain a story within? Maybe I should write a piece on this valiant sailor.

A Chinese Junk was a Chinese sailing vessel that was used for carrying goods, people, and in some cases, for war. The had full battened sails. Google it, expand your knowledge of ancient ships.

All Scripture is God Breathed

The Truth

By Josh Watkins

This is the story of a Man, who knew no sin,

A Man who contained a divine life within.

From heaven above He came to earth,

To show man their true value and worth.

This pathetic race had an undesirable fate,

Death’s cold call to them it bate,

Destined to die, all hope seemed lost,

Yet He came to settle the cost.

From His hands came health and from His lips came life,

Abolished did He suffering, disease and strife.

They looked upon Him in either hate or awe,

Sadly, their eyes were blinded,

For this was all they saw.

His message was clear and filled with truth,

Which was portrayed in King David and the servant Ruth.

This people cried out for a Savior,

But their eyes were not seeing,

Their minds were closed and their hearts were not believing.

Yet God said “I send to you My one and only Son.

Hear Him My Beloved, the Chosen One.”

Their Messiah was there, the one whom they wanted,

But from their lips they praised Him not,

Instead, they only jeered and taunted.

They denied the truth and accepted evil and false gods,

Worshipping stones, gold, and even wooden rods.

He performed many miracles before their eyes,

While the scribes and Pharisees plotted His demise.

Then finally dawned that day of dread,

One of His own betrayed Him and to the cross He was led.

Tortured and humiliated like no man had ever been,

Bleeding and dying there He became sin.

This gruesome scene was far from a joke,

His heart so full of love finally broke.

To the grave He went and from Death the keys He took,

The veil between God and man was torn like a page from a book.

What Jesus did on the cross was for the entire world to see,

That the barrier was destroyed, sin’s debt was paid and we were set free.

One Man died for all, all He willed to save,

He was the Final Sacrifice to release the sinner and slave.

Death had its chance, its one and only shot,

It tried to hold Him, yet its efforts were for not.

The Savior conquered Death and rose in glory,

 This is only the beginning of the Messiah’s story.

Today He is among us, He kept His word,

Will you my friend take to heart the things you just heard?

Hear his powerful words and his loving voice,

He is calling you to make the right choice.

Now this is not a tactic to force you to believe,

Look deep down inside, we were made to receive.

I don’t come to condemn; that is not my place,

I just want to share Jesus’ mercy and grace.

These final words I leave with you,

Leave the world behind and follow Him, who is Faithful and True,

Because His open arms are waiting for you.

His story is the greatest story the human race has ever known. Even though I've heard it many times, and wrote about it a few, it just isn't enough to describe the cost, the care, and the love that was poured out for all. 

I titled this piece "The Truth" for a number of reasons. First, because it is exactly that...the TRUTH. Second, they say the truth will set you free. If you argue with people over what's right and what's wrong, you get nowhere. But if you give them the Truth, give them Jesus, He in time will take care of that burr that pricks at that person's heart.

With that, I only ask this of you. If you know the Truth, cling to it. If you've heard of the Truth, find it. And if you have rejected the Truth, leave the lies and turn back to It. It will be the best thing you ever did.

Freedom in Christ

Not My Own

By Josh Watkins

Proud I am,

Great I am not.

Courage I possess,

Strength I do not.

Words I own,

A voice I have not.

A heart I was given,

But the love is all His.

Blind are my eyes,

Only by His way shall I see.

Weakness flows in my blood,

Yet His spirit makes me strong.

Mortal am I, enslaved is my state,

But through his sacrifice,

I have been set free,

From all these hindrances that once bound me,

And with Him now I shall live eternally.

Not all poetry has to be vast in length. Sometimes short and sweet is all you need to drive a point or idea home. That is the case of this piece. Simply put, I have things, but these things are nothing without Jesus. Everything I possess is because of Him. Because of Him, I am free.

Love's First Words

I Love You For the First Time

By Josh Watkins

Here we sit on this grassy mountain edge,

Time is still and all is quiet.

We gaze across the wrinkled sea,

Watching as the sun wraps itself in the wavy blue,

Bidding us adieu.

The wind races across the grass

And my skin tingles as the blades sweep across my body.

I gaze upon her and catch her stare,

Fixed upon the Artist’s easel

A masterpiece in its own right.

The clouds are touched with a stroke of crimson reds, fiery pinks, and royal purples.

The once blue sky is splashed with layers of gold.

I can hear the cricket’s song, echoing through the night,

The owl’s eyes watch us as they glow in the darkening sky.

My heart begins to pound like a 1000 man marching band

And my thoughts begin to race.

This moment is all too surreal,

Perfect to the smallest detail,

Almost as if it was created just for me.

I gaze at her complexion and lose myself in her stunning beauty,

The world as I see it through her eyes,

Is a world I one day hope to experience.

She turns to me with a curious glance,

Knowing not my true intention.

I give her a nervous smile and fall back into the cool sea of grass,

Noticing the blanket of stars covering the sky.

A stray moon beam reflects off the ocean’s crest,

Lighting our small paradise.

I can feel my Maker’s presence ever so close

Gently coaxing me to utter those three little, but precious words.

She lays her head next to mine

And uses her eyes to try and decipher my thoughts.

The world around me becomes a blur,

My vision rests only upon her.

Gazing once more into those gentle eyes,

My lips speak for my excited heart.

The words “I love you,” dance off of them,

Spoken with careful thought.

My heart stops, my nerves tingle, I restrain my breath.

A tear escapes her eyes and from her lips come the words

“As do I.”

Remember how I said I have a daring side to me, as well as a romantic side? Well I put both of them on the line with this piece and this piece is barely two years old. Believe it or not, this was a project, but not for an english class or any other class for that matter. This, dear friends, was a project for the 2011-2012 Great Lakes Christian Internship. 

We had been covering Ezra, Nehemiah, and the minor prophets and our assignment was to write a poem with similar styles to their writings (there was more to it, but that I can't recall). Me, being a writer figured this was going to be easy. So I put it off for a bit and eventually the deadline snuck up on me. The only thing that came to me was romantic stuff and I didn't want to share that with 30 people. As the night lingered on, my writer's block got worse. So I panicked, decided to man up, write what had been lingering in my thoughts, and go with it. 

Once I let myself go, this piece came together real quick. I looked it over, felt satisfied, and went to bed. The next day, during the bible study, Rex asked for volunteers to read. Normally I would love to share my work, but in a room full of people I knew really well, half of them girls, Pete McNaughton the literary critique, and a handful of manly men, there was no chance I was reading it...or so I thought.

Slowly people began to volunteer. Some were funny, some were emotional, and some serious, but all good. Then Sarah Brickner stepped up to the plate and read her poem which was themed about her dream wedding. Granted, she was a She, but to reveal intimate details like that with 13+ guys listening, that took guts. Right then and there I told myself I wasn't going to be a pansy nor outdone by her. So I read it.

Once the last word left my lips, there was a brief silence, then a few "awes", and then some approval. I was all tensed up and shaking a little. I did it. Soon, the moment passed and the next volunteer took over. Later, Pete told me he like my poem a lot and said it would have been his favorite, except Jesse put his pain of being a Cubs fan and sports into his poem, but hey, second ain't to bad. 

I debated about putting this up here, but told myself, if 30+ close people had heard it, why not the world?