Poetry
My personal poems and works by favorite authors.
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National Poetry Month – 18 Creepshow
I. There is a castle deep where strange creatures sleep In a forest lost in time dark, mossy Alpine clime holds secrets hidden by its host some ancient noble turned to ghost. II. The basement dungeon lined in stones holds within it moldy bones with fingers clutching rusted bars and skulls cracked with ugly scars…
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National Poetry Month 17 – Empty
There wouldn’t have been much to see just some loose rags and the body shelf that stone rolled away and the sun shining in. When the ladies arrived only to be startled by an unexpected, friendly angel he said to them, “Do not be alarmed. You seek Jesus of Nazareth, who was crucified. He has…
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National Poetry Month 16 – Harrowing
The question of the descent into Hell or Sheol, or Hades on the surface seems academic. “Did Christ actually go to free the souls of the righteous?” Was He there in the nebulous dark emanating light to the countless millions dead before the coming of the Son; Adam and his beloved Eve the Patriarchs, Moses…
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National Poetry Month 15 – Good Friday
There were two theives flanking Jesus one calling out for Him to fly off the cross prove to him that He was Lord, show the power hidden within. The other one saw through the veil and asked for His love: “Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom.” He looked at the criminal and…
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National Poetry Month 14 – Nearer My God to Thee
Imagine that sloping deck getting several degrees closer to perpendicular. The small band lingers on the deck the boys are playing ragtime light, airy tunes to keep the crowd calm. Those black tuxedos don’t keep them warm clouds of breath encircle well-coiffed heads. Steam pours from the tops of the funnels brass horns blow in…
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National Poetry Month 13 – Cruiser Moskva
Metal groans as the ship’s belly rips open to allow the sea its space. A tender hull is no match for an explosive kiss. It takes a feint from shore, some little baubles to draw attention to disorient leviathan. Down in the mud of the seabed among the anemones and sturgeons the ship’s doctor tends…
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National Poetry Month 12 – Clement Sends a Short-Form Letter
Greetings! My brothers and sisters in Christ I write this letter to the church in Corinth, telling you to get it together. God has ordered peace in the heavens – the stars and the moon and sun all roll across the sky as He ordained, so why not peace in your church? Remember Peter and…
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National Poetry Month 11 – Clipper
The clipper cuts through the sea verdigris under water flashes when the hull rises copper and oak and teak black pitch and gold leaf topped by white billows straining in the wind. She moves fast, flags stream and the bowsprit sometimes splashes against the waves. The figurehead’s white breasts try to calm the world-sea where…
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School Days – National Poetry Month 8
I saw a picture today of a one-room school house class taken around 1910. The children look sickly, big bags under their eyes like they’ve been up late at night and up early in the morning. Their father’s probably beat them in the corn and expected them to wear out their one pair of shoes…
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National Poetry Month 7 – Lord Have Mercy!
Lord have mercy! It is chanted in union among the sinners Lord have mercy! I sing it to myself in the night. Lord have mercy! Lord give strength to those who suffer in silence. Lord give hope to those that have none. Lord work upon us in ways we can’t understand, but feel. Lord have…
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National Poetry Month 6 – Won
Sometimes it feels like you get one shot at companionship one opportunity to set the board move your pieces and capture a queen. When she’s there in front of you and her smile is unbearable because it makes you blush you wonder at how every roadblock, and every setback, every Checkmate, only led to her.
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National Poetry Month 5 – In the Morning
Soft skin and warm over the pillow fort displacing the cat I insinuate myself lodged next to you where I can wrap my arms and legs around your body as you sleep. You stir and mold into me and there is nothing on Earth that matters more in that moment but you.
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National Poetry Month – Charlemagne 1-4
I. The King of the Franks standing in the aisle of St. Peter’s Church, he idly inspects the architecture. Constantine’s big basilica crowded with a hundred shrines and tombs and the walls a hundred feet above crowded with mosaics made of glass and above them long and ancient wood beams that seemed to have…
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Gil-galad REDUX
(My unsactioned completion of J.R.R. Tolkien’s short, three verse version in the Lord of the Rings.) Gil-galad was an elven-king. Of him the harpers sadly sing; the last whose realm was fair and free between the Mountains and the Sea. His sword was long, his lance was keen. His shining helm afar was seen; the…
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Christmas 2021
Merry Christmas! Another year nearly gone, another world left behind us. For every year that passes is a change of the world; chemically, biologically, socially, spiritually. We often think of how the Earth abides through all of what we go through, that this spinning ball is forever fixed under our feet. But Earth is dynamic.…
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At His Feet
I sat at Jesus’s feet. Bewildered by the crowd and the heat But what is there to say? I could see His face, hear His words. “When the Son of Man comes, will he find faith on earth?” I am a believer, I have faith. Can the Lord not hear me pray fervently, for hours…
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Twenty Years
I A few weeks after the attacks I realized that there would be anniversaries. Moments in years to come when people would stop and try to remember the event; and try and remember the nature of the world before the explosive propulsion of our wrath halted the inertia of peace. II I…
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Buran
The little pirates climb the metal scaffolds and bust open windows with sledgehammers they carry canvas satchels and metric screwdrivers they attack anything that looks like a computer or a digital display and twist and turn and pull until power cords hang like dripping intestines pulled from a slaughtered pig. Circuit boards broken apart for…
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Pilate’s Painting
There is a legend that Pontius Pilate painted Christ long after he retired as governor. What a challenge that would have been to capture the man you so briefly spoke to on a wooden panel yet who’s life (and death) will stay with you for the rest of yours. Would you take red and accentuate…
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Precursors
In a dark cave, in the shadow of Rome piled up beneath stalactites are remains of ancient proto-humans. You could hold their skulls up to the light and see through the bite holes down through to the brainpan, and run your fingers across their over-sized brows which hang over the eyes like little hills bordering…
The Numinous Cosmos 