Tag Archives: poetry

Barnes and Noble

There is no poetry
There are romance novels and Cliff Notes
Graphic novels and cookbooks
Classics in sets of display quality
Literature consisting of Grisham and King
And an aisle marked “Paranormal Teen Romance”
There is no poetry

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Filed under Poetry

The Bee

Alas has no space
Though a lot does
But no space for great-grandfather
Or the boy who thought there was

Which witch just said
It is bear and not bare
And with that
Their kid is crying over there

Remember pour, not poor
And flour, not flower
No flower for the poor girl
Who poured out the flour

Who’s minding whose business
It’s different than its
That apostrophe catastrophe
Took out little miss

There’s no saint like Saint John
Though there may be in May
But that capital notion
Just ruined his day

Now thinking about
Round pants for a clown
And ouch, now another one
Has fallen down

Ah but in victory
There’s a sweetness it seems
But oh, kid, be careful
That bee surely stings

To Caleb, who endured twenty six rounds and brought home fourth place!  I’m very proud of you!

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Filed under Childhood, Parenting

The Shepherd

He’s frustrated, this man in his office
Yet still hopeful or he’d best move on out
This depression: something the flock has missed
Will never give them a hint of his doubt
Those years he spent to be educated
Lend almost nothing to the task he now works
Discourse has always been underrated
Trod upon mostly by people who lurk
In committees keeping humble and poor
He struggles to see some good in his life
Always waiting, waiting, waiting some more
He prays to the One whose burden is light

For listening to the one he calls LORD
Means serving this One and never the hoard

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Filed under Despair, Melancholoy Sonnets, Ministry

Quieting Rage

When children bear pain
Absent defenders sought
But wanting births monstrous rage

No!
Haiku will not do
Will not lend voice to such rage
Will not give life to such creatures
As needed to right the wrongs
And heal the deep burning wounds

Yet sonnets are lovely, perhaps it seems
Melancholy songs of burdening woe
But inky scratch on torn paper is mean
Befit the crime but a sonnet? oh no

There are but words
Of hate and violence
Of revenge and justice

Vengeance is mine

There are cries for grace
Pleas for peace

It is finished

Does this child bear pain
Does this victim seek advocates

My burden is light

I cannot carry, my back has grown weak
I struggle to lift leg after leg

Decrease, I’ll increase

What victim remains
When all justice is poured
And all mercy portioned out
And all that’s left is my own pride

Pride goes before a fall

And thus the greatest adversary of all

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Filed under Abuse, Hope

Credibility

Can a poet live here
Can an artist be found
When not even a latte
Can be bought in this town

Of course no one suffers
In the chapel on the hill
It’s as quaint as the postcard
With the old worn red mill

But there is desperation
crying out from the trees
The pain is quite real
In the hungry child’s pleas

If I give it a voice
Set to meter and rhyme
What will you call it
Will you give it due time

I’m doubtful your cred
even comes from the street
But rather it comes
From the club where you meet

So pardon me please
Great guardian of art
But I still have a mind
And a voice for my heart

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Filed under Art, Criticism, Tradition

Flood

The rains came
Not cleansing but destroying
Not washing but sloshing
Mud and grime into
The dwelling
Gravel roads melted
Away as forgotten pavement sank to the caves
The rains came
Not cleansing but destroying

The sun rose
Shining and lighting
Casting its rays
Across forsaken villages
Grass seemed greener
Flowers more abundant
Life continued its ecological cycle
The sun rose
Shining and lighting

The surgeon came
Cutting to heal
Wounding to correct
Breaking misshapen bone
Wedging rods of steel
Amidst suffering flesh
The patient sleeps to groan
Hobbles to walk
The surgeon came
Cutting to heal

The promise came
To be stricken to crush
Kurios Kristos
Forsaken accursed
Dying for crimes to atone
Suffering to reconcile
Cast down to lift up
The promise came
To be stricken to crush

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Filed under Christ, Despair, Hope, Salvation