Substitute

The rumble thunder far away the sky gone grey and stone the wind path still…………………like holding breath as sits the leaden, sober stress: I stand vibrant here and live because He bled. For me. – The shrugs and shirks—the lethargy, the bow and bend to idle sins pursued with passion down the path or sometimes! […]

The Song of the Garden

It was in a garden where the firstfruits of our race found that joy and life was there that Providence had placed. But there inside a garden wall of shrubs and trees and berries all our cancer sin began to bloom The death of light the world of doom. – It was in a garden […]

Mary’s Memoriam

Broken like a casket box– then waves of sudden cold puddle on the head and hair dripping off the beard. Overpowering all else an earthen, floral note– extravagant, and rich embarrassment of eager zeal. – Lasting for a moment–just the ostentatious show outpoured, and used and sudden–gone. a year of lavished work. Just so–the trail […]

The Art of Teaching

Like gently playing chords first loud then…nonchalantly………soft; the secret siphoning of information from my mind to where my students sit and accidentally learn.

Favorite Song

I like a lot of songs, but not many like me, not out of rudeness— real songs are not rude— they are just busy with notes and lyrics and keeping pace. But this song must have eyes for kindred spirits, must be the voice to unspoken enchantments, because every word and every beat turn me […]

Things Exist

Things exist to be, they said to pulse, and jive, and jest. No deeper mean, just lean, they said for things exist to be. – But all is bright and rich we feel, a vasting meadow span that makes our life-light keen, we feel for things exist…in He

Awake and Sing

Awake, oh heart, and sing for whatever today may bring is a dear and precious thing from the hand of our God— the wonders we couldn’t have dreamt of or the solemn grief-proofs of love descend alike from above— so sing! And the foe will be hushed. .

Experience

We teach the best by stumbling in ways we thought we knew, and stubbing toes on drywall till we find the way to stalk. – The cleanly path, the painful-less that smooths its way around like silken shoes is bound to lose the strength of real and talk. – And so we strive to go […]

The Winter Sky

The winter world is cold— and withered and old— the trees droop, still and bare, in the scathing air, clothed only in gray loss— mourning the leaves lately buried with the frost. … But the sky is soft as mother-love for children wounded of life— it is older than the cold and beautifully, gently bold.

Effulgence

Just across the grave-gray pond a thousand sliver boats of light bear, like messengers, their glint and gleam to us. A whisper—faint— from far across where park lamps throw their starbled shine while shadows close the farther shore in darkening blue and gray.

melenoria

Poetry