Posts Tagged With: poem
Come all you who dream,
You earth-bound, and cloud-dweller,
You faery tale teller.
Make ready your tale,
You shy, and you earth-shaker,
You witty, you wry,
You pleb, and kingmaker.
Step in from the cold, hang your coat, douse your flare;
Come eat at my table; the stories we’ll share.
Cool October’s fire shine upon me from on high,
Where each tree is a beacon bright,
To top the fog and claim the night,
All burning bushes in my sight,
God’s voice upon me nigh.
I will learn to be faithful, as steadfast as the pine;
Make my foundation strong and deep,
Bless the rain for my roots to seep,
Extend my shade to all who weep,
Benevolent and benign.
How did this change begin?
When firm I stand and won’t false start,
Loving all with a broken heart,
And willing to be set apart,
Evidence my growth, where now I am from where I’ve been.
I wish to know the wisdom whispered in the trees;
What divine words make trunks grow strong,
And roots go deep—their tendrils throng,
And leaves grow green, and branches long,
To dance upon the breeze?
I seek to know the secrets storied in the sky;
What hangs the cielo ceiling low,
Where the clouds heaven’s breath does blow,
And who draws strong Orion’s bow,
When nighttime rises nigh?
I long to know the language of the languid sea;
Where on the waters’ surface calm,
Which smells of amniotic balm,
And each fish swim, and bird a psalm,
To awake in the morning with fresh eyes,
I look out upon our shared world anew;
Renewed, refreshed with the fog in the sky,
A reminder with morning’s loving dew.
To know it will burn off by the mid-day,
Makes me seek to enjoy the here and now,
And to the heat of the sun giving way,
Beating upon me in my field to plow.
Yet comes soon evening where my rest is nigh,
Reveling in the joy where my heart lives,
Beside my love, cheek to cheek and thigh to thigh,
Gratitude rests upon our God who gives.
Let each day rise and fall with its merit,
And in each moment be glad to share it.
My hands do long to bless the lost with hope,
My pen does long to soar long the pages,
I stand, I run and stumble down the slope,
Will my work be unreached through the ages?
Are my efforts feasting last on Maundy?
My work be shattered on the Corner Stone,
Eli, Eli lama sabacthani?
Oh Father, raise my light that once had shone.
God of mercy, bless this shadowed spirit;
My God of grace, descend and make me whole.
I am humbled, grant to me Your merit;
Creative work does much to joy my soul.
My spirit is broken beyond my pen,
Oh Lord, when will this purgatory end?
Originally written sometime in March 2009 as a prayer sonnet. I was obviously struggling with feelings of inadequacy regarding my writing and any lack of progress thereof. Funny enough, this prayer has indeed been answered line for line (although not in any way I would have wanted or imagined at the time).
Open and full, the Fall lies before me,
Hot, spent and tired, the Summer behind;
Gold to fire the leaves will turn, tree to tree,
And drop with the rain, descending design.
Sweet Autumn lift me up as you fall down,
May your tears rinse away my refining;
Each leaf cast is a jewel in your crown,
The blanketing clouds are your defining.
Deciduous destinies shedding all,
Relieving themselves of their canopies,
Until they are fully bare, standing tall,
Arrayed in magnificent panoplies.
Oh looming supplicants with arms stretched wide,
Let me join you in your prayers, at your side.