Donal Mahoney- A Poem

Window at the Abbey

Through the window I see

the sun fire up

for the last time today.

There are jays

in the trees near the meadow,

crows in the grass

I cut with a scythe

early this morning.

Still on my platter

corn from the fields,

scallions, tomatoes,

bell pepper and cheese.

I'll remain at my table

with lemon and tea

and look out on the land

that surrounds me.

The psalms a monk 

gave me this morning

I'll read for an hour

before sleeping. 

-------------------------------------------------

There is an abbey in Lisle, Illinois,

where guests of all persuasions 

are welcome to gather their thoughts 

for a few days about the serious matters 

of life (http://procopius.webs.com/).

Gerald Bosacker- A Poem

A LONELY TREE
 

In the middle of a field of high yield corns,
stands a solitary oak.  Morose, it mourns
its siblings harvested for oak barn beams,
while it alone survives.  The lone oak dreams
of a grove of descendants, shedding seed,
sterile where chemically tilled of weed-
killers making the fertile former wood land
uniquely corn.  Does this lone survivor stand
as victor, or only as a token of the past?
For one century this spreading oak cast
cooling shade for explorers, and  pioneers.
Now, in it’s heartwood, fresh new rot appears,
hollowing the trunk that dared not bend
to winds that propose a great tree’s end.

Jason Constantine Ford- A Poem

The Return

 

Each time I remember him passing

Through sliding doors with a reflection immune

To bad habits that seem to be encompassing,

I recall those events that virtues consume.

From one day unto the next, he was bestowing

His gifts to children who were in great need

By what he gained from a stream that was flowing

With virtues that stem from an eternal creed.

He was the one who broke through the granite wall

That separated us from water in the stream.

He showed us the path where one cannot fall

Into a belief that true virtues are a dream.

As virtues only appear when things are clear,

I know that the noble one shall make himself known

When the time comes for him to reappear

As the owner of a gaze that breaks through stone.

Jason Constantine Ford, “The Return” in Decanto Magazine / Anthology, Issue 44, December 2009, p65.

Linda M. Crate- A Poem

too easy to forget

it is so easy

to forget that You're

the one that is worth all

praise in this hectic

world that inspires us

to forget all that matters

the world wants us to believe

whom dies with the most

toys is the winner, but they

forget that person still dies;

you cannot take your 

wealth or toys with you to

the afterlife; i would rather spend

an eternity with You than to

burn in the flames of hell because

i stored treasures in the wrong place,

You are the maker of my heart;

and You sent your son to die for my

transgressions, You're the only

one that never lets me down, and

You are the river of love and passion that

burns in my heart brighter than a candle.