weaving of words part the iv

8/14/2019 Weaving of Words Part the IV

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ItsAweaving of wordsPart the IV

By:

Caleb Alan Kestner


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ItsAweaving of words

Part the IV

By:

Caleb Alan Kestner


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This book is dedicated to my MomWho gave me words.

Thank you.


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Copyright 2009 by Caleb Kestner.

All Rights Reserved.

2nd

Story PressMinneapolis, Minnesota

Printed in the United States


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Contents

IiiXXXX. I are . . . I am

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~12

iiXXXXI. If

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~14

iiiXXXXII. Its

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~~17

iiXXXXIII. Fallen

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~18

iiXXXXIV. Ode to an Ode

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~21

iiiXXXXV. Once Upon a Time

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~22

iiXXXXVI. What happens once youve fallen?

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~24

iXXXXVII. Wall~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~27

XXXXVIII. Mountain

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~28

iiXXXXIX. Who am I?

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~30

iiiiiiiiiiiiiL. Pro Crastinator

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~33

iiiiiiiiiiiiLI. Blessed About the Author

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~35 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~39

iiiiiiiiiiiLII. Goodnight my Love Acknowledgments

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~36 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~41


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If you don't know where you are going, any road will get you there.

Lewis Carroll


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I are shattered I are . . . I amfragment

splinterI am the cold

frozen

winterI are inferno

fire

ashesI am shackles

chains andlashes

I are heartachewailing

sorrowI am future

past andmorrow

I are hopelessweeping

sadnessI am passion

rage andmadness


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are beautyfleeting

shallowI am careless

stark andcallow

I are conqueredcringing

choice-lessI am silent

mute andvoiceless

I are teardropssoftly

cryingI am the dead

doomed anddying

I are humanbroken

grievingI am my own

endingweaving


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If

If poems were of poetry as woods were of trees

If sound were of music as air is of breeze

If joy was of laughter as hurt was of tears

If hope were courage as hate is of fear

If food was of hunger as thirst was of drinkIf taught were of learning as thought is of think

If life were of living as dead was of death

If heart was of blood as lung is of breath

If angels were of heaven as demons were of hell

If touch were of feeling as taste was of smell

If people were of right as humans were of wrong

If beauty were of souls as rhyme was of song

If give was of giving as took was of take

If words were of truth as build was of make

If this was of that as that was of this

Then the world would be perfect and all of life bliss


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Its

Peace isnt quiet; its noise you dont hear

Courage isnt brave, its pain you dont fear

Mercy isnt weak; its the strength to forgive

Hope isnt assurance; its the will to live

Good isnt perfect, its striving to rise

Honesty isnt truth; its exposing the lies

Wisdom isnt knowledge, its understanding why

Belief isnt comfort; its willingness to die

Leading isnt commanding, its serving those you lead

Charity isnt handouts; its helping those in need

Faith isnt knowing, its acting when you dont

Love isnt if they do, its even when they wont


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Fallen

By: Caleb Kestner

Falling mirror, slipping through the sky

Dead reflections, never think to question why

Spilling spirals, shattered glass evokes no tears

Greed and hatred, serving banquets of their fears

Murder Martyr, fallen people die to live

Victim Target, hearts too broken to forgive

Once forgotten, memory forgets once more

Perceptions clouded, lives wrapped up in pointless war

Hate breeds death and death breeds hate

Never ending circle, self-fulfilling fate


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Ode to an Ode

O ode thou wondrous words amaze

And lyrical lines astound

From Grecian days long lost in time

Resounds your pulsing sound

Poetic verse from days of yore

A voice that echoes still

Crash like waves on histories shore

A synthesis of will

Melodic beauty sweet and pure

The music of the spheres

Tragic pain that dares endure

The basis of our fears

The power of the mind made free

Laid out upon a page

Vision even blind men see

The workings of a sage

O ode thy legacy still stands

Though years have gone and come

The majesty of all that is

Existence's very sum


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Once upon a time: (Poetry from Photography class)

By: Myself and mmmcoffee

(Recomposed by: Me)

Once upon a time,

a time so long ago

There lived a thing called pumperfumps

that liked to stand in rows

These curious things (called pumpfs for short)

could come in kinds of every sort

Hardly old or softly new

polka dotted, pink or blue

Turquoise, yellow, short or tubby

mauve or mink or tall or stubbyWearing charms or maybe roses

on their arms or tween their toeses

They paint a quite perplexing picture

these pumpfs that come in such a mixture

Dancing, bouncing throwing ducks

(If you rub them they bring luck!)

Falling up and hopping down

Making noise (without a sound)

See them running up the tree

Then right back down (they quickly flee)Watch them roll among the flowers

Back and forth for many hours

Tossing tulips, squishing daises

Chasing stars (theyre very lazy)

And of course when days are done

to their gumdings they will runWhat are Gumdings? You may ask

Answering thats mmmcoffees task

Gumdings are things very hard to explain

Theyre totally different but all still the same

Theyre kind of like beds and they smell really sweet

They have nice looking hands for the rubbing of feet

Gumdings are spun from big sugar canes

And they all smell like brownies if ever it rains

But enough about Gumdings

lets us move on

To talk of a frog and a small pumpf named Ron


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The frog was tiny (about 50 pounds)

The pumpf was squishy (and incredibly round)For something named Ron it made quite a weird sound

Ron what a word

Its amazingly flatIt sounds like a monkey

That looks like a hatNow a Ron thats named pumpf

Or a pumpf that named RonAre interiorly different

(Except for in song)

When explaining them both

Or explaining them one

You must start at the start

And go till your doneNow the problem with me

(As you well may not know)

I forgot where I start

And dont know where to go

So explaining them both

I could never well do

And explaining them one

Is a big problem too

Theres much more to write

But I fear I must quitFor the rest of this poem

Was quite lacking in wit

In our rush to waste time

We both overextended

So the half a page left

is too much to be mendedSo with that and with this

Ill now call it a day

Ive re-said what I said

And Ive naught left to say


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What Happens

OnceYou've fallen?

What happens once you've fallen?

What happens once you fail?Success no longer possible

your heart in shame is veiledWhat happens when you've given up

and ceded to your fears?When hope fades like the morning mist

and pain transforms to tears.What happens when you lose the fight

and know you've lost much more?When the battle finally gets you

in this never ending war.And how are you supposed to cope

when you know it's all been lost?When you pay the price for what you want

and it isn't worth the cost.

Where do you go or turn towhen the world has turned on you?When all you've givens not enough

and there's nothing more to do.You recognize that all will fall

though each in their own way.You stand with calm assurance

that they've not yet won the day.And though it seems that all is lost

and hope itself has fled.As long as you've the strength to rise

redemption isn't dead.


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Wall

Once upon a midnight dreary

Came a traveler wet and weary

His cloak was sodden through and through

Upon his feet more holes then shoe

The road was rough the ground was stony

The man was thin and rather bony

Then all at once the road just ended

His journey stopped his quest suspended

A giant wall stood in his way

As tall as night as long as day

So there he sat to ponder and wonder what to do

To pass this insurmountable obstruction of his view

There was no wood within this wall, nor brick or rock or steel

For it was made of stronger things then those material

This wall was made of all in life that strives to make you fail

Of pain and lies and hardship of dead and rot and stale

At first the man was locked with fear immobilized by shameA thousand things that hed done wrong all rushed to fill his brain

Then as he sat there shaking a shudder shook the wall

Its surface started cracking and chunks began to fall

Then with a sigh of effort the man rose to his feet

Hed come too far and worked to long to let himself be beat

So with a mighty crash the wall did rend its self-apart

And the man strode once more onward through the walls now broken heart


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Mountain

Wrinkled stone sags gently down the mountain's aged face, tufts of snowy hair

stream down his craggy chin and pool softly at his feet

Cavernous lungs pull moist air in through limestone teeth and moss-lined nostrils

to feed his golden veins

All across the mountain a cloak of life blooms and flourishes, entire lifetimes

cascading in and out of existence between the beats of his heart

The mountain sleeps; a giant who dreams of far off places and tells himself that in

a moment he'll rise from the cradle of his birth, stretching out the ridges of his skin

and the granite peaks of his spine

In a moment his eyelids will crack open with a rumble, pine tree lashes fluttering

as he looks with sliver eyes at the world for the first time

In a moment he'll shake off the residue of his creation and with thundering steps

go explore this place that gave him life just moments before

In a moment he thinks to himself as his heart continues its steady beat

In a moment he thinks as he slips slowly back into his dreams

In a moment, as all around him life rushes on

In a moment


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Who am I?

Who am I? I wonder.and whence from have I come?

What is it Im doing?

and when will I be done?

Where to am I going?and when will I arrive?

What for am I living?

and what for should I strive?

What is it Im writing?and have yet still to write?

What is it Im fighting?

and have yet still to fight?

When will true love find me?and how then will I know?

Where is love to lead me?

and will I dare to go?

Who am I affecting?and whos affecting me?

What then is my blindness?

and what is it I see?

What have I to finish?and what have I to start

What was it that made me?And brought to life my heart?

Who am I? I wonder.and what will be the sum?

of all that Ive accomplished,when at last my time has come.


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Pro Crastinator

Yet again behind I scramble

Even my mad dash an amble

Moments left I still waste timeSpinning pointless bits of rhyme

Always later I endeavor

Striving then, achieving never

Running just to keep from movingMaintenance consumes improving

All again commitments makingEver then again them flaking

Of the future ever dreaming

Time betwixt my fingers streaming

Late and lacking deadline loomingMe myself I'm quickly dooming

Always just a moment more

Till the effort I endure

Until there is no time to wasteMy hands lethargic move to haste

Wishing that I could better be

and cure these faults that lie in me

Hoping that I might find someway

to work before the final day

But as I wish and hope such things

time flits away on gilded wings


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Blessing

I pray for Gods blessing on all that you do

Clear sight for your eyes and a path ever true

I pray you accomplish each task your soul gets

Content with your work when the sun finally sets

I hope for your dreams that youll always aspire

That you still feel Gods presence though the times may be dire

That you live every moment and spend every day

That you hoard up lifes treasures then give them away

I pray for you safety until you return

That you grow from lifes lessens and teach what you learn

Remember that while you may be far from here

Through the memories you leave you will always be near

And as time marches on of this always be sure

The love that you give will forever endure


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Goodnight my love

Goodnight my love its time to sleep

and leave the world behind

To free yourself from all lifes pain

and clear your burdened mind


and rest forevermore

To fly beyond the gleaming stars

and dance on heavens floor


the angels wait for you

Youll never be forgotten

for the life you lived was true


your work at last is done

And though the day is finished

the dream is just begun


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About the Author

Caleb Kestner was born on his birthday and has been himself ever since. He iscurrently residing where he is and will most likely stay there until he goes somewhere

else. He, like most people, never reads the parts of a book that start with Preface,Afterword, Introduction, Foreword, Acknowledgements, or About the Author. Therefore

he has decided to not waste his time and will instead provide you with an excerpt fromEbenezer Cunninghams On the Electromagnetic Mass of a Moving Electron It is

perhaps worth noting that "the principle of relativity" propounded by Bucherer in thePhil. Mag. of April 1907 is in essence identical with the statement made in the beginning

of this paper. The principle referred to may be stated thus : that in the sequence ofelectromagnetic phenomena the giving of an additional uniform translational velocity v to

the whole system of electric and magnetic bodies will not affect the phenomena observed

if this velocity v is at the same time given to the observer. The transformation of spaceand time variables mentioned above shows a means of explaining this dependence of theelectromagnetic phenomena on relative motion only; and conversely it is a comparatively

simple matter to show that it is the only means. For it is required, among other things, toexplain how a light-wave travelling outwards in all directions with velocity C relative to

an observer A, may at the same time be travelling outwards in all directions with thesame velocity relative to an observer B moving relative to A with velocity v. If at this

point you are still reading you are to be commended (but probably wont be), unless ofcourse you skimmed to the end, realized that at some point Id begun writing again and

just backtracked until you found where Id started up again. In that case you should beflogged for blatant disregard of superfluous-section-of-the-book reading etiquette (but

probably wont be). This is Calebs first literary work and like most of his endeavors isthe result of many years worth of seemingly endless effort and consternation that came to

a rapid conclusion about a day after he actually started working on it. That being said,much effort, time, thought, and most importantly inspiration, went into creating this work

of words and he would be remiss if he didnt acknowledge the many manifold minds whohelped him along the way. Please turn the page. Unless the you just skipped down to

this point to see if the discussion of electromagnetic electron masses went all the way tothe end, then you should go back and work your way through like everyone else. If I can

take the time to copy and paI mean, write it you can take the time to read it!


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Acknowledgments

First off let me just say if I forget to mention you, its probably because youdidnt matter enough for me to remember, no Im sure you matter . . . to someone ;P.

Honestly though, Im only going to focus on people who effected, influenced andinspired my writing (that I was able to remember, ok, ok, Ill stop). Anyway here goes,

thank you with all that I am for all that youve been.Joanna for being the rubber wall I could bounce my concrete ideas off of. Jill for

believing I could measure up to my imagination, and in doing so giving me theconfidence to try. Jeremiah for being a porcupine patch farming communist and the

perfect devils advocate. David N. for getting paper cuts. Natalie for the magnificencethat is The Duo!. The Joshness for believing our genes combined can conquer the

world! (Provided yours dont by osmosis.) John for being an outgoing, hilarious,

musical genius, so that I didnt have to, and could just use you. James for wanting toread my stuff more then I wanted to write it. Molly for proving that Disco isnt dead.Nathan for being a Kestner (seniority or not). Josh Anderson for moving up here, getting

five jobs, and giving me all the money so I can kick start my writing career (wink, wink,nudge, nudge). Dayna for being so agreeable when it comes to disagreeing. Naomi for

being the smartest person I know . . . who thought Canada was a state. Ben for giving metwo nephews and another brother. April for buying this book (on the off chance I ever

find away of selling it to you). Marcus Dee, you better get your butt moving and starthanging out with me so Ill have something to mention in vol. 2. Raquel and Aunt Betsy,

how could one not be influenced by you. Cheri for the support and affirmation, now, andas far back as I can remember. And for creating a family as awesome as my own

(Keitzells forever!). Calli for giving me somebody to confuse. Rachael Metcalf-Bernard,for commenting, encouraging, and being Metcalf. The OConnor Clan, and all the other

Kestners (including the honorary ones) for giving me a legacy to be part of. Finally, andmost importantly Mary Jane and Kevin Jay, not only are you the reason I exist, youre the

reasons for my existence. You are all that I am, and all that I aspire to be. Dad you arethe greatest user of words I know, but even if you werent youre strength of character

gives more worth to youre words then the most brilliant of wordsmiths could ever hopeto achieve. Youve shown me ways to use words that I never dreamed were possible

(most of them probably shouldnt be). You are the giant upon whose shoulders Imstanding. Mom, Dad may have given me something to aspire to but you gave me

something to aspire with. Every great achievement in my life is built on the foundations

of your efforts. You have poured more blood, sweat and tears into my life then any couldever dare to hope for. From the very depths of my soul thank you. And thank you onceagain to those mentioned, unmentioned and to be mentioned. This Oscar means the

world to me, oh wait crap, wrong speech.


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Its Over!


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Seriously, thats it I didnt write anything else for you to read.


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Why are you still here! I told you theres

nothing else. Go away!


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Ok, you know what, fine, keep flipping pages,I dont even care.


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weaving of words part the iv

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