Thank you for visiting my site. Please feel free to peruse and see my latest projects. I am an Actor and Christian Writer living in Atlanta, GA and I am invigorated, encouraged, and inspired by so many people that pursue their passions and genuinely seek to grow in truth and positivity. Reach out if you have a page or an interest that you would like me to check out and comment on. Thanks!
Landon Metts
Oh my timid heart,
Tis passion you command.
For better or for worse,
My attention you demand.
For reason governs logic
Guiding A to B to C,
But a tug of the nostalgic
Will bend reason to its knee.
And so my timid heart
Forget not what you are.
Though you incur the hurts,
You also set the bar
For how long you shall endure
The intensity of offense,
You have power to move on
From the pains you can diminish.
So look to the horizon.
You were never meant to be
Confined, stalled, or stagnant
Go forth, my heart, run free.
She came into my arms,
Eyes red and full of tears.
I queried with alarm,
Oblivious to the harm
Inflicted by her peers.
They wouldn’t play with her.
She was crushed and quite dejected.
My heart began to stir
For what I once endured
When young and first rejected.
But how could I reply
Except by warm embrace?
I couldn’t tell her why.
Her age was merely five
And words had seemed a waste.
She wiped her face and ran away
At once, without a care.
Determined, she returned to play,
Forgetting their maligning way,
Choosing hope and not despair.
No longer shall I tarry
In fearful wilderness,
Afraid, alarmed, and wary
By the burdens that I carry,
Perspective quite contrary
To desirable bliss.
I let the china fall,
Having want to be reformed.
It shatters in the hall.
I’m judged and shunned by all.
I brace against the wall,
Enduring the great storm.
I peek a careful squint
To see if I survived,
And maybe catch a glimpse
Or possibly a hint,
A life beyond incident,
Where peace may be derived.
And I’m pleasantly greeted
By a warm and tranquil scene,
No scoffers have entreated,
No ambulance is needed,
Nor am I impeded
From existing as I deem.
So I gather up the pieces
Of the shattered, broken idol.
My confidence increases
As practicality releases,
My consternation ceases
And frees my timid soul.
That precious laugh has caught my ear,
Interrupting my endeavor.
I rise, move closer, perchance to hear
New sounds you may deliver.
And hark! Again, a jubilant cackle
emits from your sweet face.
The task I’d meant to formerly tackle
Is easily replaced
By the impetus to lift you high
And twirl you all around,
And the joy of watching as you try
To articulate your sounds.
Oh precious child you have me.
Your joy shall be my plight,
And nothing will deter me
From engaging in your life.
I’ll applaud your successes
And cry with you in pain,
Watching as God blesses
Amidst the pouring rain.
For nothing less compels me
Than to see your joy fulfilled.
Your laugh, a start before me,
From here, our love, we’ll build.
Do you feel it in the air,
A sense of something coming?
The likes of which you can’t compare,
An insatiable longing?
A growing wave forms steadily,
Just breaking the horizon.
The tide comes in readily
Beyond the bounds of reason.
Oh beckoning breeze, you welcome me
Preemptive of fruition.
Anticipation builds frantically,
A mix of hope and tension.
Some may dread and fear unknown
Recourse of such submission.
They hide away all alone,
Afraid of vain delusion.
But no, not I, my purpose forms.
I’ll hope for nothing less
Than providence amidst the storms.
My life, my King shall bless.
Check out my New Book “The Vapors: A Short Story Thriller & Selected Poetry” in the tab above! It is available for paperback and Kindle on Amazon.com. Check it out! Give a review!
Past the veil are shadows known,
Alive despite intention.
Without denial they exist,
Beyond mere recognition.
Yet these dark imprints signal not,
Imperative malevolence.
Sometimes darkness is the impetus,
Of serene nostalgic silence.
And while discerning which of these,
Awaits us at the thought,
We may find solace knowing that,
Villains tarry not,
In queries of the should-haves,
Or repentant genuflect,
Our heart exposed, amidst our woes,
A longing to be blessed.
Oh the road familiar known,
I glance in recollection.
A wanderer strides alone,
Intent in his reflection.
I ask in haste, “Are you the one?”
He nods in affirmation.
My shoulders sink in bitter relief,
At odds with each sensation.
“Oh the road familiar known.”
I cry to my companion.
With half a smile, he nods again,
Suggesting his compassion.
I wait with longing for a word,
Some response to trepidation,
He simply stands in front of me,
Not changing his expression.
“What will you?” I ask, with irritation,
To break his piercing gaze,
“Let go,” he says with forlorn caution,
Then points the opposite way.
“But, oh the road familiar known,”
I cry again in earnest.
“Tis the past, the seeds are sown,
Before you lies your interests.
For if you tarry any longer,
You will not be fit to see,
The difference between what’s behind you,
And what you’re meant to seek.”
“But oh, the road familiar known.”
I meekly say in sorrow.
He shakes his head and turns away,
Heading for the morrow.
I’m left alone, now knowing truth,
Confined and pertinacious,
Hoping for some validation,
So vainly efficacious.
Oh Lord, Where were you,
When the villains came out,
When the evil afflicted,
And fear led to doubt?
Oh Lord, Where were you,
When they boarded the planes
When children lost parents
And death fell like rain?
Oh Lord, Where were you?
With a gun held high,
He entered the school,
And took their sweet lives.
Oh Lord, Where were you,
In the years of abduction,
While their families awaited,
Any kind of instruction?
Oh Lord, Where were you?
We ask and don’t know,
It shakes our faith,
Amidst fear and woe.
Oh Lord, Where were you?
We assume, Lord of Hosts,
That you were the foe,
Who neglected your post.
Oh Lord, Where were you?
We ask, blind and lost,
We can barely conceive,
The measure of sin’s cost.
Oh Lord, Where were you,
May be the wrong plea,
In this fear stricken world,
Oh Lord, Where were we?
Oh Lord, Where were you?
Surely there at the towers,
Under desks at the school,
Where the victims would cower.
Oh Lord, Where were you?
Always with us within,
Preparing and determining,
When this madness will end.
Landon Metts – Writer, Reader, Enthusiast 