Staged

And still the illusion continues
The strangling silence goes unbroken
My helpless cry is locked inside
Behind my constant smile.
How long have I been on this stage
Scripts memorized so long ago
This role of mine is cast in stone
Curtains up, the show goes on.
How well I have performed
For no one knows who am I
Long forgotten is my self.
Behind the curtain I watch anxiously
I must portray what is desired
True self denied, to be the star
The best of all with nothing lacking
But something is left behind
Out in the open for all to see
Oh no! A piece of me stands awkwardly.
He sits in the front row silently observing
Wait! He slowly stands to his feet
My heart clutches at my breath
And as he turns and walks away
The real me mistakenly left behind
Crumbles to the floor, rejected fully.
Crushed I quickly don my mask
Smilng I sweep up the errant pieces
The show must continue on
Pleasing to all is my starring role
My performance is acted out perfectly
The illusion, colored brightly, deceives all.
Today as the play draws to a close
Behind me the thick curtain softly falls
A stubborn tear meanders down my cheek
But my audience only sees my smile. fixed in place
And standing to their feet they applaud.

Copyright 2005 J.N.Gallegos

Author's Note:
This poem was written about my father. Unfortunately he grew up in a household where performance and perfection were the only things that mattered. He brought that to my home as well. I hope that some day he realizes that people and relationships are what truly matter---not how good you are at something. It took me quite a few years of marriage to Mr. Querido to learn that I was okay just as I was. And that I didn't have to make everyone happy. In fact, it was IMPOSSIBLE to make everyone happy. Mr. Querido taught me that I just needed to try my best and that effort was good enough. I am so thankful that I finally learned acceptance is based on who you are not what you are capable of.

Isn't that why God accepts and loves us? He loves us because we are His creation, His beloved children...


"We love Him because He first loved us."
1 John 4:19

Night

Night falls into an ebony void
All is black; everything silent.
Not a sound issues from the earth
Nor from the sky above.
Just the silence of the stars
And their celestial companion, Luna.
Her dullish gleam adds light to the inky quiet
And her round face adds words to the silence:
"Play little stars
Sparkle here and there
Frolic in the heavens
Until it comes time for you to disappear."
The young stars delight in their play
Their heavenly thoughts of causing bright
To appear to the silent earth beneath.
They twirl round and round
Watching their illuminated gowns swirl
In beams of laughterish light.

Copyright 1997 J.N. Gallegos

Faith

"Now faith is the substance of things hoped for,
the evidence of things not seen."
Hebrews 11:1

Contract from God
giving me hope
Substance of that hope
And proof of the unseen.
Holds me in trust
and anchors me still.
When all hope is gone
faith remains.

Copyright 1997 J.N. Gallegos

He Thought of You..

While His body was wracked with pain,
With blood pouring from His side,
When God looked away from Him
Because He was so full of sin,
He thought of you.

Upon that cross He stayed,
Splinters digging into His raw flesh,
Blood running down His face,
Hand that healed, now wounded,
All because He thought of you.

He endured the pain,
He became the Sacrifice,
Jesus willingly died on a cross,
Because you were on His mind.

Copyright 1997 J.N. Gallegos

More Poetry Continued...

On sandy beaches where people lay,
Along the shores where they would play,
I have come.

Amidst towering clouds of gloom,
Behind the forked streaks of doom,
I will come.

When the angry clouds buffet the sea,
While the ships lean toward the lee,
I am there.

My power is the force that tickles the waves,
As people enjoy long summer days,
I will be there.

The ocean broils under my playful hand,
As anxious people quietly stand,
I am present.

Now I have churned up the water, causing it to foam,
But soon I am bored, so now I go home,
I have left.

Once again on a summer storm,
The air will tingle with the warm,
Wind.

Copyright 1996 J. N. Gallegos


The Forgetful and Exaggerative Survivor

Once I saw a Tigertailed Fly,
Or was that a Dragonbutterswallow?
At any rate it swooped down low to the pond
And upon catching its meal, soared to the sky.
That Swallowtigered Dragon flew quite fast!
Its green body contrasted nicely against the azure sky.
The Tigerbutterfly finished eating its catch and then looked around.
Soon its eyes rested on me, in them I saw a devilish gleam
That fierce Flytailed Swallow attacked me from above.
With its sharp talons it scooped me up from the ground!
That fearsome creature carried me to its nest high in the trees,
And then left me for a midnight snack!
Well that nest was twelve feet tall with thorns on the top,
If you did happen to get out it was at least a thirty foot drop!
They say no one ever escapes the Dragontailedswallow Fly,
But that did not cause me to lose heart, so I got to work.
I was not about to become someone's breakfast, lunch or dinner.
Cautiously I stood up as high as I could get in that wobbly nest,
That Buttertailed Dragon was taking a noonish nap.
Quietly but quickly I started to climb that prickly nest
How that creature could sleep in it I could only guess.
Ocasionally the Swallowtiger Fly would twitch and wiggle
Probably doing some terrible thing to someone else in its dreams!
When it was going to wake up, I had no idea, so I climbed more rapidly.
Finally I reached the thorny edge of that enormous nest,
And what I saw was not a pretty sight.
That Flybuttered Beast was fifty feet long with seventy foot wings!
It had greenish gold eyes that seemed to watch your every movement.
Long gruesome daggers protruded from its feet,
And from its hideous mouth six foot long, razor sharp teeth!
Blue and red scales covered that entire beast, and they glimmered in the sun.
Carefully I pulled myself over those sword-like thorns on the top,
And then I had to cling to the side of the nest to avoid that thirty foot drop!
Just at that moment that Swallowtailed Dragon decided to wake up,
Hungrily it peered into its nest.
When it saw that I was not there it screamed the most horrible, blood curdling scream I have ever heard!
Then its eyes searched the ground.
But I was using my brains, and as it was busy looking on the ground I was climbing that tree.
Out of pure luck I found a branch that connected the two trees together.
Now I could get away from that hideous creature!
All of a sudden that branch snapped and I plummeted to the ground.
On my way down a strong wind blew me back to that pond!
Warily I sneaked through the bushes until I reached my house,
Once inside I locked the door and watched out the window.
Well, I sat there for hours expecting that Buttertaileddragonswallow to come knockin' on my door
You see they tell me those creatures have excellent noses.
But it never came; perhaps it had a cold that day.
So I am the ony survivor of a Swallowdragonbuttertailed Fly attack.
And that is no lie.

Copyright 1996 J.N. Gallegos

Author's note: The Forgetful and Exaggerative Survivor was one of my favorites! It was a lot of fun to try to think up different names for the beast that contained the same words, just mixed around.

Gone

This was a poem that I wrote in August of 2006...
----------------------------------------------
GONE

Hollow, my cry echoes within
Where has the real me gone?
So many years shut in
Voiceless, motionless sat the she of me
Once or twice she would appear
Only to be cast aside
Tired of drowning in her tears,
Her person she vowed to hide.
Never good enough on her own
Miss Congeniality was soon added.
Friendly even to her own detriment
Her pain accepted as long as others were okay.
Always placing herself last, behind the scenes, beneath all others
For fear of becoming like her father,
The star of the show--trodding on everyone.

And so now I look inside
Desperately searching for the me I hid.
However she I cannot find
And I wonder how long ago she disappeared.
Their disapproval drove her deeper
In to the black hole of ostracicity.
Until so far sucked in, she forgot that I was me.

Where is that little girl so tender? I ask myself.
And the only answer I receive
Is the hollow echo reverberating all around.

As I sit here, I ponder
If I have lost the me within
How is it possible I exist?
Has the facade so overtaken
Now running on autopilot?
Except that I am not the one driving!
Out of control is how I feel
Or maybe there isn't any left of me to weep.
No one of me to mourn my passing
No her to scream as we plummet.
Deeper and deeper into the abyss of nothingness, no identity.
In this place, there is no me!
How do I regain myself? I cry as we fall.
Can I even remember me?
Does anyone know my true identity?
The crisis of self grips my soul.
I feel empty inside
As if there used to be someone
But that me long ago died.
Shut away from reality the she that was me wasted away.
Can the dead myself be resurrected?
----------------------------------------


Okay, that was a little bit darker than the poetry that I have shared before. But all of my writing is not necessarily so uplifting. There are times when the inner tears turn into words on paper. Or the fire of anger burns on the tip of my pen. I use my poetry to express my feelings in the truest most honest way I know. I can be brutally honest with myself when I write. And there is no one to judge how I wrote it, or what tone it took. It is simply for me. So I risk putting it out here. This is down to the nitty gritty of my soul. But I felt that you should know me as a whole rather than just a part.

With Purpose

The Vessel

With careful hands You carved me from nothing
Created to hold Indescribable Beauty
Out of common clay, my life You molded
Purposed to reveal Your Holy Glory
Why would You choose; knowing all of my impurities?
Why would You wait for clay so cold
To capture the warmth and vibrance of Your love?
What compelled You to let me house Your mercy
As You lovingly anointed me with His Blood?
Purified and sanctified, now I glow with Your presence.
As one redeemed, I shine forth Your justice.
A vessel born of grace, called to bear Your love.

Copyright 2005 J.N. Gallegos

Baby Steps..

This was written a little over four months after Mr. Independent was born. Babies are such great inspiration!

Eternity is held within your gaze
Bright eyes turned above
Heaven's wonder shown in many ways.
My child, my gift, my love.

Copyright 2005 J. N. Gallegos

I compose this for my firstborn as I watched him drift off to dreamland one day...

Sitting here watching him sleep
Still small and dependent on me
Deep brown eyes, closing slowly
I wonder what he sees in me?
Tiny fingers clutching dreams
Little ears listening to my heartbeat.

Copyright 2002 J.N. Gallegos

Alphabet of Thankfulness

This Love...

Astounds me
Blesses me
Changes me
Defines me
Envelopes me
Forgave me
Healed me
Illuminates me
Joys me
Keeps me
Lives in me
Made me
Never ends
Opens my eyes
Prepares me
Quiets me
Reassures me
Saved me
Tenderly cares for me
Unconditional
Victoriously rose
Washed my sins
eXposes me
Yearns for my heart
Zealous and jealous for me

Copyrighted 2001 J.N. Gallegos

One day as I was writing, I was just impressed to use the alphabet to put down everything the love of Christ meant to me. The Alphabet of Thankfulness was the result.

Writing...

I ran across a stack of old papers today. Written upon them were words I had penned long ago. It seems like a lifetime ago I wrote those words. And so, with some reluctance, I share a snippet of poetry I wrote as a young girl.

"Stones"

You work in wonderful ways
mysterious miracles, everyday.
On my road of Life
You carefully place each stone in front of me.
You go before me and smooth the way
when Life seems full of boulders
help me to realize I am journeying
through the quarry for my road.
Each stone, I now realize,
has a purpose in my path.
None is there by coincidence
because my Master's hands
carefully place my stepping stones.

Copyrighted 1999 J.N. Gallegos

"Help me to realize that I am journeying through the quarry for my road..." That is my prayer today, still. Often I am inclined to just see the obstacle rather than the challenge. Father, help me to see the challenge first!