Thursday, March 28, 2013

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 

Gerald Bosacker- A Poem


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.

Monday, March 4, 2013

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.

Friday, March 1, 2013

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.