the shadowed alley lies quiet and in wait
where the void sneers and chaos swirls all about
and darkness coats the face of the cobblestones
but then sounds a word spoken
and light paints new creation down crumbling path
upon which walk the feet of the promised one
peace and judgment held in both his outstretched hands
soon shall that day come I pray
when lion lies down with lamb
Tag: poetry
Dreams of Paris
Some unconnected stanzas – enjoy or not, it’s all the same to me. I enjoyed the process of letting my thoughts spill forth on this day bursting forth in all its glorious reality.
shivering she pulls the blanket close
and cries out for that second cup of tea
and i cross the room and turn on the kettle
soon my darling soon
she smiles and says with bleary eyes
just make sure to put in the lemon
and lots and lots of honey
Drops of twilight on the canvas
unsatisfied he sighs
i meant to paint the sunset
instead look
it’s just another dreary urban sky
i remark unfavourably upon these stanzas
grumbling as i usually do
but look she comments it’s ok really it is
at least some of them
have the slightest ring of truth
let’s read deep into the evening
as the soup bubbles upon the stove
and perhaps our thoughts will be sparked
by the black and white on the pages
or if not
at least we’re cozy here at home
i seek that far country that i’ve sought so many times before
and yes i’m reassured to know there is written above the doorframe
a name that i will one day call my own
but that is not the name i cry now
for this country is only treasured for the name of its king
and so I sing it in all my songs and all my poetry
and ask that no one look to me
for one day i’ll walk across the river and up to the doorway
and smile to know i’ve found that land for which my God’s destined me
once more let’s climb the tree of abstract philosophy
she whispers in my ear or let’s not
and instead open the book
and taste and see
i tried to climb the sunset
i tried to reach the second night
yet all my tears and all my fears rang louder
in the absence of your light
so what my heart grumbled
so what my soul bemoaned
so what
my eyes trembled
so what she says
come home my love
come home
she balances upon the curb and laughs to see me walk comfortably upon the sidewalk
come over here and join me
there’s enough room for two!
but only if you stand in front of me like this
nose to nose
just as you love to do
the green light flickers a bit ill at ease
and i smile as i pull my jacket closer
content to walk beneath the neon sky
for though the night is cold
and rain drips down my neck
metaphorical dreaming swirls inside my soul
for i know my home is nigh
Mornings I Look Up
the blank piece of paper calls out to be filled
and though the pen drops slowly from my hand
in trembling terror that it cannot be
good enough
it is ok
for look up to the one who is
who draws me ever more into
sweeter communion with himself
the God who knows my name
who in himself is sufficient
for all purposes my feeble mind can summon up
not to claim that i have any part in defining God
it would be with fear that i approach
and in reverent posture fall and kneel
for now at last my empty heart is filled
this morning i walk with God in prayer
moments counting
Many stanzas unrelated yet not perhaps entirely
We walk down those faded corridors
marked with water stains
and faded ink
and broken promises
hand in hand we go
with light steps
and broken hearts
the light shines down on your face
and your eyes tell the story
that your lips never would
as they move to count down
i raise a finger to shush
i already know the time
yet you move closer
She stands upon the doorstep
tilting her head curiously
and as i raise my hand
and start to pretend
i change my mind and say
let’s have a nice long talk
as we go for a walk alongside
the sea
hello my darling let’s not pay the toll today
for it’s been paid so many times before
surely it counts for something
the frequency of our visits
maybe a loyalty program of sorts
instead spread some jam and butter upon that scone
and i’ll pour you a cup of tea
and let’s open the book and dive deep into what we’ve read
and talk lit and art and most of all what it means
to be immersed in this systematic theology
Reading upon a sofa sprawled out all comfy in my way
and upon the table burns a candle marking the time since
and she walks in and stares at me and says
really have you moved at all?
and of course not i say although that’s not entirely true
for i may have gotten up to change the music once or twice
but in sentiment she understands and smiles and rolls her eyes
and leans over and pats my leg and tells me to relax
i wish i could fall into a book like that
how does theology affect our lives i wonder
and though some may say it really doesn’t
i would argue then what’s the point
for then your theology’s bereft
and all your thinking has no merit
true true they answer back and so why bother?
i turn to them and say consider this
if God’s real and true and all that?
and if furthermore he’s written to us of himself?
well i’d like to understand
at least in such feeble way as this mind dares to grasp
understanding they say is futile for how can what is finite
comprehend the infinite
it can’t
truly
for only when the infinite and finite has somehow married
can there be a listening to the radio that is now tuned
but how – there can be no such
and yes i also wondered until i considered that this question
has been answered
hence why i’m reading theology
and seeing the poetry of God
this strange, wonderful symmetry that is god made man
and sent down from eternity to walk this earth
and then die upon a tree
this sweetest simplest theology
of God who made a way to be known by feeble, finite, little ol me
she tenderly caresses the cover of the book before her
wondering if she dares to open the cover
will the writing match the gorgeousness of the artwork?
she hears a whisper
yes
taste and see
One more girl hangs out the 3rd floor window
and shouts down to me of what she’s found
what is that i say
cry louder!
and she says i won’t but i’ll do you one better
i’ll come down
the sunset ripples through the sky
and i breathe in deep the last remnants
and wait for my God to draw me nigh
Landscapes, far Away
The grey poles swooped past our car,
a bit in time with my beating heart,
brushed up next to her but we
were not together
not yet apart.
And as the train slowed to a halt,
I glanced at her,
she glanced at me,
and not a word was shared.
She apparently had nothing she cared to say to me
but that’s alright,
because I had nothing I cared to say to her.
Stepping onto the platform,
sticky with residue of shattered dreams,
I glanced once more at her
tear-stained face and
we walked together
we walked alone.
what Else is There to Follow, what Else is There to Love?
A bit of honey upon the bread makes it oh so tasty and sweet
but oft times we forget the honey and the bread
and just grab a mouthful of cornmeal
instead.
And I can’t express what is in my heart, but then
when have I ever had that express desire
fulfilled?
And oh I’m waiting
as the autumn leaves float down around my head
and oh I’m waiting
for something more than promises of breathless hope to here remain
for something more than promises of fragile tea mugs in their alcoves
for something more than promises of lighted candles upon the windowsill
and oh I’m waiting
oh oh I’m waiting
for leaves of summer to crown my brow
someday soon
someday
and then shall I weep anew for fulfillment sweet
and so I’m waiting
for that crimson sunset
and in-drawn breath
before the silence
before the storm,
before the long
lost called home.
Meanwhile listen
for that true music,
echoing of ages past
echoing of age to come
echoing achingly
painfully
wonderingly
wonderfully
staggeringly
beautiful
and so
listen closely, for it still sings
faintly yes,
but it still sings.
And better now than scattered crumbs of mercury and steel,
the true bread rests upon the plate, invitingly warm and hearty,
even a little bit of honey drizzled sweet,
that worn old book sings to me anew,
not faintly now.
Sometimes yes,
but not the now.
Fangorn
i have loved too many times
to now muster up my feelings yet once more
and try again for that wistful sigh
sideways glancing through the rain
maybe now it’s different
actually no
i don’t think it will be so
only vinyl & I
skipping forward through the rain
Repose
A crowning of clouds hugs the sky,
deep and lusciously does it lie,
a bit like a blanket atop the bed,
the type that makes you want to snuggle deeper,
never wanting to get out and up and start your day.
And as the eastern horizon slowly catches fiery light,
it seems to be an assumed fact that this day will
roll on like all the rest.
This may be assumed, I suppose – as most days do indeed roll on.
But what does this say of us that we have lost our sense of wonder
of the dawn?
And so now, see now,
we most diligently employ these fancy wrappers and this coiffed hair and these most proper accouterments
to carry ourselves as high and lofty persons,
but so now, see now,
though we style ourselves as a grand affair,
fragile and weak are we in and of ourselves for true,
and though we do a good job to hide that fact, our infirmities cripple us in a deeper sense
than merely what our eyes can see now.
Still I must acknowledge that our eyes lift to heaven and catch the dawning light
a bit like our flesh and bones and souls alike are crafted –
to the tune of that greater music
to the harmony of that more beautiful truth
to the song of that more truthful beauty.
and sweetly does that herald cry
of crowning glory from the sky.
of Early Mornings and Other Things
The music pops and warbles,
crooning smooth tunes
over the corporate approved radio
and the woman near me –
you’d expect her to have a bob perhaps, but no –
her hair is a riot
of darker brown with lighter pink
and a few beaming golden tresses ties it all together
and as the espresso steams and the lights dim and
fragrance of peppermint fills the air,
her smile dazzles more brilliant still.
Let’s dance the charleston now and forget
what lies behind
what lies ahead is far better.
Let’s dance my love,
let’s dance.
A Cup of Water
May I have some water?
Cracked lips and parched throat
and fevered, restless soul
toiling and spinning
and groaning e’er more –
what is this shadow I see?
The grass is brown and dry
and the flowers wilt
all for lack of water.
An autumn leaf
slowly spinning to the earth
in what seems
to be a very long moment,
but it is only a moment.
Boots crunching on the snow
and first flush of winter’s blast
reminds one of two conflicting points –
the terrible power of nature’s wrath and
the terrible beauty of the same.
All the flags and all the battleships of all the petty kingdoms of the world
are revealed for how small they truly are.
And in that long night,
as a tear gently traces the cheek,
there is a cry that rises.
Oh to lay this burden down
Oh to let this yoke be broken
Oh to leave this shadowed land
Oh to love forever.
And in that night,
there is remembrance brought and
there is peace and comfort wrought.
For surely rest is at hand.
Forever.
But not yet.
The scent of lilies on the wind
and through the doorway, open now –
I see a rising sun
and there is
a hint of jasmine.
Someday
glory comes.
Something Weird 