<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3288444700207101557</id><updated>2011-11-27T16:02:28.887-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Brian's Works</title><subtitle type='html'>Brian Nienaber's Poetry</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brianswrittenworks.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3288444700207101557/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brianswrittenworks.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Brian Nienaber</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18158984681365585995</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>4</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3288444700207101557.post-7334086224891045467</id><published>2007-05-05T22:08:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2007-05-05T22:11:47.803-07:00</updated><title type='text'>“Child of White”</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Inverted torches, they are all the people see,&lt;br /&gt;No love no nurture,&lt;br /&gt;Pain, suffering, a barrow of the tortured, the inverted torch and then darkness,&lt;br /&gt;A child of white crying     in the midst    of usSHOUTING-&lt;br /&gt;Why are we here?&lt;br /&gt;Shovels, dirt- darkness obscured, grime-Grim unbearable,&lt;br /&gt;Shovels- dirt&lt;br /&gt;Shovels- dirt&lt;br /&gt;Shovels- dirt- darkness obscured&lt;br /&gt;Raining ashes all around.&lt;br /&gt;A child so bright crying in a river’s blackness&lt;br /&gt;An inverted torch, brightness dimming.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Why are we here?”&lt;br /&gt;In the poem the question “why are we here?” asks if “we as humans want to know if there is hope within false hope, “…Child so bright crying in a river’s blackness” has a possible relation to this question. Since the whole poem is surrounded by the mass graves, as well as the tortured and sight within the darkness there is a great sense of confusion and the inability to see the light or the hope that is really there amidst the people… examples “… darkness obscured” (sight within darkness) and the “inverted torches,” (Light concealed). This poem can possibly relate to “The Boy Who Cried Wolf,” how this is possible is for you to figure out; however that being said one would rather see it as a poem of the suffering seeing the hope but cannot seem to grasp it as it is fading away (just as when you look at a bright object and close your eyes it fades away until you see blackness). Study the poem and see what you find in it. In particular look at the lines one at a time and study all the symbols each line contains as well as parts not talked about in this poem.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3288444700207101557-7334086224891045467?l=brianswrittenworks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brianswrittenworks.blogspot.com/feeds/7334086224891045467/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3288444700207101557&amp;postID=7334086224891045467' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3288444700207101557/posts/default/7334086224891045467'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3288444700207101557/posts/default/7334086224891045467'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brianswrittenworks.blogspot.com/2007/05/child-of-white.html' title='“Child of White”'/><author><name>Brian Nienaber</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18158984681365585995</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3288444700207101557.post-2913475616605043637</id><published>2007-05-05T22:08:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2007-05-05T22:08:53.988-07:00</updated><title type='text'>"Black-Blood"</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;River of Blood,&lt;br /&gt;Rushing by.&lt;br /&gt;Clouds gone Black,&lt;br /&gt;Thunder in the sky.&lt;br /&gt;All hope seems lost amidst the dark clouds,&lt;br /&gt;Black powder and dust,&lt;br /&gt;The light is fading; hope growing grim.&lt;br /&gt;A child of white lies distraught,&lt;br /&gt;Crying a river- black of blood&lt;br /&gt;Darkness- overwhelming,&lt;br /&gt;Light- unclear, chances now fading,&lt;br /&gt;Death in the darkness&lt;br /&gt;Light- obscured&lt;br /&gt;Child of White departing this life&lt;br /&gt;But still there is ONE who cradles the child so clear.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3288444700207101557-2913475616605043637?l=brianswrittenworks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brianswrittenworks.blogspot.com/feeds/2913475616605043637/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3288444700207101557&amp;postID=2913475616605043637' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3288444700207101557/posts/default/2913475616605043637'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3288444700207101557/posts/default/2913475616605043637'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brianswrittenworks.blogspot.com/2007/05/black-blood.html' title='&quot;Black-Blood&quot;'/><author><name>Brian Nienaber</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18158984681365585995</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3288444700207101557.post-7060267128716671289</id><published>2007-05-05T22:07:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-01-06T13:11:45.615-08:00</updated><title type='text'>“Return to Innocence”</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;On an immense rock,&lt;br /&gt;Hope stands high,&lt;br /&gt;Waiting as people with past lives,&lt;br /&gt;Return to Innocence.&lt;br /&gt;Lives of trouble- lives in despair,&lt;br /&gt;Anguish,&lt;br /&gt;Suffering,&lt;br /&gt;Why?&lt;br /&gt;This is the past.&lt;br /&gt;Inside this world of darkness,&lt;br /&gt;Still there lies that light so bright,&lt;br /&gt;Intense,&lt;br /&gt;The Hope unclear,&lt;br /&gt;There is still a dream- brittle&lt;br /&gt;Still a hope- too high&lt;br /&gt;When we reach our purpose&lt;br /&gt;The question is unclear&lt;br /&gt;Unborn is the answer&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;On the rock the Child stands high&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Waiting&lt;br /&gt;On a high rock Innocence awaits,&lt;br /&gt;The delicate Child will stand&lt;br /&gt;As they return to innocence.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In “Return to Innocence,” to be unborn is the answer, So many people have their BIG problems in life - would it not be wonderful if we could RETURN to a time where we didn't have any troubles?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;HERE'S THE ANSWER TO "WHY?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Question- “Why?” Is an assertive way of stating that there is no need for the terror that has occurred in the past but “why?” why did it still happen then? Almost rhetorical...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3288444700207101557-7060267128716671289?l=brianswrittenworks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brianswrittenworks.blogspot.com/feeds/7060267128716671289/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3288444700207101557&amp;postID=7060267128716671289' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3288444700207101557/posts/default/7060267128716671289'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3288444700207101557/posts/default/7060267128716671289'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brianswrittenworks.blogspot.com/2007/05/return-to-innocence.html' title='“Return to Innocence”'/><author><name>Brian Nienaber</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18158984681365585995</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3288444700207101557.post-5563485127114829613</id><published>2007-05-05T22:06:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-05-05T23:00:03.223-07:00</updated><title type='text'>“Timeline of Freedom”</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Healing,&lt;br /&gt;Pain removed,&lt;br /&gt;A past behind us,&lt;br /&gt;Terrifying and Disastrous.&lt;br /&gt;We go forth to a future,&lt;br /&gt;That hold something more than what we have now,&lt;br /&gt;Is it hope that holds us?&lt;br /&gt;Hope for a future,&lt;br /&gt;Hope held there for us—hope for a freedom,&lt;br /&gt;A Child’s reflection over the bloody red waters we pass through,&lt;br /&gt;Heads held high, we tread through the blood paving the way towards it,&lt;br /&gt;The child that holds it—a freedom that will bind us,&lt;br /&gt;Death—Darkness,&lt;br /&gt;Treacherous paths we leave behind,&lt;br /&gt;Onwards we march—to the child that holds it,&lt;br /&gt;The freedom that will bind us,&lt;br /&gt;A Future beyond.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3288444700207101557-5563485127114829613?l=brianswrittenworks.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://brianswrittenworks.blogspot.com/feeds/5563485127114829613/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3288444700207101557&amp;postID=5563485127114829613' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3288444700207101557/posts/default/5563485127114829613'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3288444700207101557/posts/default/5563485127114829613'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://brianswrittenworks.blogspot.com/2007/05/healing-pain-removed-past-behind-us.html' title='“Timeline of Freedom”'/><author><name>Brian Nienaber</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18158984681365585995</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
