Saturday, August 31, 2013

Jeff Burt- Three Poems


Most fragile when it is fresh
most frail when fate
has forced it
to the tightrope
of dizzying walk
or wavering doubt,
catastrophe balancing
where success does not

Winter Solstice

Three misdirected travelers on the street, strangers,
we bore the bitter wind until our cheeks
were raw and chapped, and ducked
into the darkened entrance of a shop
to drop our shoulders into place
and rub the ice from our faces,
and discovered the slender shivering frame
of a lost soul clothed in spring cottons and sandals.
He refused shelter and money, so one gave his cap,
another his mitts and dressed the man's feet,
and I the inner layer of my coat.
Three strangers, we looked at each other like brothers,
but dared not speak as if to violate the rule:
we live ultimately alone.
Hunching our shoulders and rounding our backs
we bore the bitter wind once again
until one corner unraveled our travel
into thirds, and with it the warmth,
which for birds and beasts in winter
only comes by huddling. A spark flared
within me and I looked two ways to share,
but they were lost beyond lamplight.
How close to celebrating God's birth
I had come, I knew.

Song for the Tongue
Dull, dusty taste of the field.
Bland is bread.

But thank you God that wine
we are fed

and the apples and the fish and the cheese
that we eat

are made delicious by the chaste
wind-worn wheat.

Saturday, August 10, 2013

Linda M. Crate- Three Poems

unconditional love
You're sandpaper
rubbing away all my flaws
sculpting me into a 
better person for Your kingdom
Your ways are not my own,
but You reassure me of promises
that will come true;
You encourage me when i feel
weak, and you make me
strong when i remember to ask for strength —
You grant me provision,
protection, and love
when no one else can afford to;
You are the lion
slaying all my enemies,
the lamb that was slain for my transgressions
Your love knows no bounds
neither do Your mercies or grace —
thank you, Father,
for always showing me the way
even if i sometimes stray
the light always leads me back home to
Your arms
sheltering me from the harshest storms.

recoloring the world 
the poison of this world
sometimes tastes sweet
until i choke on the razors
of those sins; commandments
were put in place for our
protection not to limit fun yet
so many of us are plagued
by defeat in the simplest struggle
yet You patiently wait, and
i cannot fathom such understanding
or love; You seek me before the
moment of my darkest deeds,
sometimes i listen and others i just
delve into my own self-destruction
yet You always bring me back to the place
i need to be, use my darkness to show
Your light in a world who needs
a flame to light it's way, a passion and a soul
to cut through a world without color.

You are my portion 
there are no scriptures
defending what he did
yet You tell me to forgive
my fury swims up, but You
remind me that you forgave
me; i want to hate him,
but You tell me to love him to
glorify Your name, to show
the world the deep power of Your
love so i keep bleeding love for
a man who will not repent for his sins
who won't turn back to Your light
too interested in chasing his own selfish
desires of lust; i am left blowing
in the wind of forgetfulness when he promised
me i was unforgettable, yet You dried every
tear he made me cry, You held my heart
when i thought it would burst into entropy
You make me shine bright when happiness seems
like a pale illusive dream; You tell me that You
can make this mess beautiful somehow,
that You can make us the people You need us to be
and that i will get the desire of my heart
because i turned to You in my time of need;
oh, Lord, no one can know your great mercies or love
compassion or grace except those that were crushed,
but You promise I would not be destroyed
that one day he would see i was right and he was 
wrong, but You are the changer of hearts
so i'll simply follow You now and always until the world
gives way beneath my feet, and trumpets are blown.

Lela Marie De La Garza- A Poem

Scarcely seen colours as rainbow through mist;
Hardly heard tone as a velvet wrapped chime;
God's word is not always trumpeted blast,
But that which is searched for and found in His time.

Softly as leaves lifting over a brook;
Gently as dust sifting into the sand
God’s word is not always thunder or flame
But stillness of light in the palm of His hand.

Tuesday, August 6, 2013

Donal Mahoney- A Poem

Easter at the Nursing Home

When bread
is this good
a morsel

will suffice
and when wine
is this good

a sip is enough
for the wraiths
and specters

coming toward 
the altar now
on crutches

in wheel chairs

the last Easter 
some of them 
will know 

as they await  
a resurrection
of their own.

Donal Mahoney lives in St. Louis, Missouri.

Douglas Polk- Two Poems


Christianity not to be written into some book of laws,
with pencil or pen,
but written instead on the hearts of men,
and women,
no punishments to avoid,
but instead love to attain,
and then spread.

A Statement of Faith

the time not our own,
life shared with multitudes of creatures,
trapped in space and time,
captive instead of free,
because we refuse to listen,
we refuse to see,
the things not visible,
or easy to believe,
be still,
make no demands,
but offer a prayer,
feel the love,
there is nothing to fear,
our debt already paid,
free to be,
and to love,
if our minds unchained,
our life free,
with meaning,
no answers needed.