Sharing Poetry! :)

[antonyh]

If we could get the hang of it entirely
It would take too long;
All we know is the splash of words in passing
and falling twigs of song,
And when we try to eavesdrop on the great
Presences it is rarely
That by a stroke of luck we can appropriate
Even a phrase entirely.

If we could find our happiness entirely
In somebody else's arms
We should not fear the spears of the spring or the city's
Yammering fire alarms
But, as it is, the spears each year go through
Our flesh and almost hourly
Bell and siren banishes the blue
Eyes of Love entirely.

And if the world were black or white entirely
And all the charts were plain
Instead of a mad weir of tigerish waters,
A prism of delight and pain,
We might be surer where we wished to go
Or again we might be merely
Bored but in brute reality there is no
Road that is entirely right.

[iowan woman]

Casey,

You will grow into a wise adult.

[andrewlittle]

Originally Posted by antonyh

Yes, I have this problem too . Instead of waxing eloquent about the glories of the world I write about the horror I see around me. I only have one uplifting poem, a love poem I wrote to my partner when I was courting him. The rest of it is of the dark and serious nature.

Art presents a good model for ministry, in my mind.

In art, there are the prophets who present the horrors that surround us, the exhorters who translate the prophetic vision so that more can grasp the realities, the teachers who show what can be done, the agents who guide people into action, and the pastors who comfort those who are coming to terms with the realities that have been addressed by all the others.

All are necessary - we'd be lost without any of them.

[Ubuntu]

Oh Blessed Rain

Oh blessed rain,
tears of joy--
Brother sun,
eldest and wisest,
it watches and guides
As the Mother Earth,
The Father Sky,
it cries and cradles its creation.

And the rain still falls--
raining life to beget the cycle
of life to death
and death to blooming soul.

Tender drops
caress bared skin.
Joyous mirth
At the beauty of this kin.

Like a babe--
The womb we have left,
Moved to find the new
Out of the old.
And these tears of life,
Forever to those arms you can run.
And cascading healing
It bathes swollen wounds.
Rest in enfolding arms.

What was once thought dreadful,
A misery, to be bared for only so long,
Is now an expression of love,
An inspiration to dance and song.

It rains for me.

--copywritten to me.

[Gennee]

Though I am more an essayist and short story writer I do write a few poems now and then. I'll have to share one in the near future when I find it.

Gennee

[Casey]

Originally Posted by iowan woman

Casey,

You will grow into a wise adult.

Wow!! i think youre the first person to ever say that!! thanks so much!!

[paul]

Because we make a wound of our medicine

He makes a medicine of our wound, so that

we who are wounded by virtue may be cured by

vice.

Michael Molinos

[Casey]

Something wonderful I found yesterday...

"Love is...

An emotion that cannot be depicted with words
But must be felt in the depths of ones heart
It takes over the body with a colossal force
To experience the sensations love conveys
Just gaze into your loves tender eyes."

[Dumbledore]

Originally Posted by Ubuntu

[CENTER]Oh Blessed Rain

Oh blessed rain,
tears of joy--
Brother sun,
eldest and wisest,
it watches and guides
As the Mother Earth,
The Father Sky,
it cries and cradles its creation...

--copywritten to me.

What a beautiful poem. Thank you for sharing it.

[Dumbledore]

2 A.M.

You didn't fall like a feather
more like the stone
that broke
your body sixteen floors below
thrashing the bushes
with blood and
brain matter.

The Chicago Police
found your corpse
and solved the case by first light.
Official Take: "gay, 20, suicide".

...some conjecture about
an affair with a
married man...

The Medical Examiner's tape
sealed off your studio
like a temporary
numbered grave:
1601.

...nobody cut the tape...

Until the expiration date
when the custodian

(the one who hosed your blood away at 4 a.m.
before the building woke up)

could drag your broken futon
to the elevator and down to
the dumpster below.

--Moi

[antiochian]

Sorry, like I said I have a hard time writing about happy stuff. But I'd like to think there's a strand of hope here at the end!

Frozen Heart

I was in love once,
it started out quite nice,
but it came unravelled
and fell apart.
Loneliness is my friend
day in and day out.
How I long to meet a
good man and win his heart.

I loved God once,
as a child in Sunday school,
I wanted to share his love with others.
But the love faded and cooled.
How can a God I thought loved me
not accept my being gay,
or so people say,
how can God be that cruel?

I loved the Church once,
it was a haven for my spirit,
a place of refuge for my mind,
a beacon of light to my soul.
As time passed I often observed,
the Church seemed more human
than divine--a place of refuge for those
who hate and damn to hell my soul.

I want to love a man, God,
and the Church once again.
My frozen heart aches as
it strains, cracks and breaks.
I want to believe there is a way
to reconcile this deepest part
of me with providence, and that
one day there will be no more hate.

Oct. 30, 2007

Jeffery Johnson

[Casey]

The Lover might be a fool,
The Wise Man might be great,
But the Lover knows only kindness,
And the Wise Man - only hate.