she bends over the little secretary desk
and scribbles with all her might
outside the thunder bugles triumphantly
but Emma doesn’t fear the night
for all the raging of the cosmos
only fuels the maelstrom in her heart
and she bleeds messy prose onto the paper
witness this faltering house of cards
but it’s ok she says to herself
for surely soon this candle will go out
and on my pillow i’ll lie down and
lie awake and for hours muse on art
and the way the wooden crosspiece
struck my eye as the autumn light
fell just so upon that old red barn
i remember that afternoon i wrote
a poem upon my scratchpad as i
leaned against that tree and breathed
deep of pine and felt the comfort
of the old withered bark against my back
cozy in my sweatshirt and my eyes alive
with all that was on the page unturned
now alas i’ve seen too much and i fear
that perhaps all my best lines are burnt
but at least i can’t say i haven’t written
even if the pages are all fluttering
in the wind
and who knows what backstreet alley
they’ll end up in
alas my soul comfort yourself with what you know
and rest in those old promises
i have nothing else
Tag: poem
Prickly Pear
Her head whirls with all that has been revealed and she feels as if perhaps
the books weren’t exactly correct in how they informed her dreams
but now she steps up the tree-lined path
and her feet start to drag as her heart
begins to tremble
for now she comes to the crux of it
indeed now in the fullness of time
that moment that has been just so defined
and her mouth dry she steps through the doorway
and click clack click clack her shoes strike the floor
until she reaches the spot that she never thought she’d see
and she can’t even kneel but instead falls to her face
and beneath the empty cross she cries out for grace
now her heart settles and despite her tears she breathes
what is this strange mystery
this God who died for me
Self Examination
Cross-legged on the bed she sits
staring at the cursor that blinks in endless taunt
reminding her of all the lines she’s failed to write
and of all the momentous mementos that she’s lost
for now she forgets to look around her
when she’s sitting on the bus stop bench
yes there’s stories thick as forests in the muttering voices
but the only voices she hears now are those in her head
so what does it matter that her pen is dead
or more like it – that her notepad is white without a blemish
of messy scribbling in furious fantasy of that which used to be
so now she blinks in resignation as the tears start to fall
eyes wide open on the bed she lies
Riptide
She likes to write of the last horizon
the one that was only ever seen that once
everyone tells her she’s lying
but it’s true i was there
like the trees indrawn breath at the start of autumn
so too the breeze that day did something to my lonesome eyes
and as i thought of what it signified that the moment hung eternal
she grabbed my arm and in her eyes i saw the same thought that perhaps
God had chosen this moment of all moments to take us home
and the air caught in my throat and i felt the holy fire
and for a second we rested at the crest
until sound returned and the cry of the gull was heard
not yet my child not yet
she told me later that she knew in that moment she believed in God
for her mind in that space between the wallboards felt awe at what it knew
not in the solidity of earth or mountain or oaken forest
did she linger
but instead in the revealed promises of God made true
not many get to rest in the light of heaven
at least not in this tumultuous night
yet we all gaze off into the horizon
not many sit upon the grassy shore and count the dolphins
but remember beneath the waves how many swim
Duologue
meekly i shout meekly!
and once more she lets out a sigh
how can i suppress my fire
when you keep stoking it so well
and then you dare have the nerve
to tell me to dull my songs
you’re right of course
but all i ask is a little indulgence
for the sake of art
just pretend i’m not on the other side
for on the stage you play a part
and that character is all prim and proper
well perhaps your reading of her is
but mine is that she’s been told lies too long
and so of course in this moment she’d erupt
even if it is only in her blazing eyes
so i’ll play her as i want to
and yes this conversation may have undertones
that discomfort even you
but it’s alright we’ll forget all that
when we step off the stage and celebrate opening night
and down at the pub share a drink or two
Ripened
on the madison county line
i waited
in the deep dark depths of mid july
and off to the side at the end of the little gravel road
a dilapidated and faded barn stood
and under an old oak
where a red checked picnic blanket was spread
i waited
and that old classic paperback i read
even though i’d read it far too many times
what’s once more when it brings such joy
and upon the thought of memories of black and white
there comes a crunch of tires upon the gravel
and up the road comes the little sedan
i see her dark tousled hair whip around as she parks
and then she tumbles out and over to me sheepish smiles
there are sparkles in her eyes
what now she says shall we not recommit our love
yes i say simply and in that recommit our lives
and in that moment her eyes met mine and we stood
in the profound symmetry of frozen time
and then upon the blanket we sat and i uncorked the wine
and we raised our glasses said a toast and slowly drank
to us to future glory to that truest of all stories
there off that gravel road on the madison county line
Frayed Scarf
Sunflower dreams and slowly spun tales of oak
What can I take with me as I walk through this forest
Some say whatever is in my pocket
Some say whatever is in my head
I say only that which I craft along the way
And so I whistle the tune I heard at the show last night
And add a few nonsense words which seem to fit
The trees seem not to mind
Courtyard
Outside time
the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit met
and in full communion and perfect accord
they said
in covenant let us come and
for covenant let us go
and draw near to man
that he may know us
and adore us
and commune with us again
Let me be propitiated
I shall do this thing
I will send
I will go
and I will strengthen
and comfort your soul
Let him come to me and look upon my death
let him come and eat my flesh
let him drink full of my blood
as I have drunk deep of thy wrath
let him come to me and rest
let him come to me and look and in me believe
for as I have arisen so let him with me rise
for to us I have now him reconciled
and surely brought him nigh
and he cries out listen to his plea
skim off skim off
these base impurities
that i might know more
and ever treasure thee!
My Father I am thy child
and in you and you alone find true peace
My Jesus I am thy prayer
and only live through you who intercedes
My Comforter and Helper
I because of you know the words of God
I long to be with my Lord
forever
in the places where you are!
Be near me, indwell me, dear Spirit
show me how I ought to live
your heart is new, your joy is true
see now the strength I give you for each day!
Pray for me, pray for me, dear Jesus
show me the true and better way
it is done, I have done it
only through me will you see the Father’s face
Have mercy upon me my Father
i still feel so cold and full of sin
consider my love, my dear child
the work I did long ago begin
will not falter
for I who chose you and who knows you
will surely keep you to the end
what a wondrous thing it is that i should be called a child of God
as I step through the doorway and above me glance and see
the blood smeared over my head that came from a Lamb who died
and consider that this has been the plan since outside eternity
and now feel the winds of the Spirit rustle through my soul
i tremble to know that i am loved and i am held
and that by divine sympathy and mercy am made truly whole
oh i feel the pulsing of the lifeblood that spills out as these words
the blood that for me was spilled points to the divine reality of God
and now I hesitate to appropriate that treasure of eternity that is mine
but nothing do I want if it is not in actuality the reality of life in Christ
I long to obey the commandments that have been given
I long to be found in communion in the church that is my home
I long to be known by the one who’s for his Father’s glory risen
I long to be a clay temple of the Spirit who somehow fills my frame
and now and forever I lift my voice and whisper glory glory glory
to the Lord God Almighty forever and always glory to your name.
As it is written so shall it always be,
glory to the Father, Son, and Spirit
glory to the Holy Trinity
peace to mankind through the cross of Jesus
and may all who come to him know the bliss
of delighting in our God for eternity.
It is good for us to be here.
It is good to gaze upon the face of God.
Promise Kept
I love this good grey coat
for it reminds me of my time abroad
when it kept me warm even when the water
poured
and all my notebooks in its many pockets
were filled with notes and maps
and prayers and poems
and all the little things
that cross your mind when
you’re in a country not your own
see now what i write in this notebook spread before me?
the candlelight flickers across the half-written scribblings
as i consider even now that i walk as a pilgrim in a foreign land
so let me fill these pages with all the wonders that spur my thoughts
to spiral further up and further in
consider this far country to which i go.
Trials
sometimes i wish my pen didn’t run out of ink
just when inspiration strikes
and i finally have something to say
alas more common my pen sloshes full
and in morbid fascination
i fill the pages with lines
no one cares to read
not even me
Something Weird 