Thursday, June 25, 2015

Elizabeth Perdomo- Three Poems

In Our Own Delusion
We think
in our own delusion
of no more needing of no more
knowing our Maker, God
than we now think
& honor water
which at the mere turn
of faucets
we assume always
will continue to flow;
we believe
that water, that life
is our sovereign
to have; to use; to take;
to waste;
without limits
without thankful hearts
with no sense
of sacred
as if all things exist
as simply hollow matter
as if somehow
in the pale light of evening
we could now recreate
even ourselves
without any power
beyond that
which is given free;
as if we could somehow be
without fall or sin
& in what great Image?

Precarious Dancing
(Ephesians 5:32)
It remains a precarious dance,
A wedding celebration in which each
Discovers a particular blend of footsteps,
Caught in our singular ascent, which also turns
Among vast crowds of angels, both alive in
Glory & lost in the dead twist of fall.
Grapevine steps weave here,
Walk bold among a tangled line of wisdom,
Waltzing swirls meant to somehow maintain grace.
Here we live within weak flesh,
Where One Holy Church visible & invisible becomes
United, just beyond a thin curtain of silk.
She sings a single
Irresistible melody which calls out hearts
Even when we come here halt & hesitant.
We move, each as imperfect sinners,
Each treading accidental & deliberate
Upon one another’s toes,
We walk in awkward circles,
Joined by shifting hands & clumsy feed partnered
Amid disjointed clamor & every impossible distraction.
Yet, all of us are found straining,
Bending our imperfect, dull ears to catch
Just one strand of wondrous unity,
Her true tongue beckons, the spotless bride of Christ,
Offering balm & comfort; her sublime voice sings out Holy,
One perfect song, despite our human failings.

Quiet Things of Beauty
If a lone icy drop,
An uniqueness shaped
In the precious geometry of a single
Silent snowflake
Falls & in but an instant
Melts upon the lips of a child,
Does that modest moment of beauty,
That particular patterned wonder
Then become at one
With the human
If some stunning act
Of simple loveliness releases itself
Like prayer into the world’s vast noise
& finds no ready human
To view its distinctive cascade
Of created being, if but a brief heart breathe
Released, is it altogether lost, or
Does its quiet beauty still
Awe angels & delight
Our mighty Creator
Elizabeth Perdomo has lived and written in the Rio Grande Valley of South Texas these past fourteen years, moving to the region from the Rio Grande Valley of New Mexico.  Born in Kansas, and raised both there and in Colorado, she has written poetry works since a young teen. Perdomo also lived in the Southeastern USA for a number of years.  Her written pieces reflects on local place and culture, cooking, gardening, ecology and nature, tradition, spirituality and much more. 


Sunday, June 14, 2015

Donal Mahoney- A Poem

Strangers in a Bar

Sammy had been sitting in the bar for four hours drinking his usual gin and tonic, one drink after another, and even he would admit he was soused if he could put a sentence together. He didn’t have to talk, however, since he was the only customer left and there was an hour to go before closing. All he had to do was tap on the bar twice in front of his empty glass and the bartender would give him another drink. The service was wonderful.

Then two men in trench coats and fedoras walked in and sat down a few stools away from Sammy. They ordered a couple of beers. They seemed to be concerned about something and Sammy always liked to listen in on other people’s conversations.

“We need more room,” the big man said. “We can hardly take any more people. But they keep coming down and we can’t send them anywhere else. You would think we were Las Vegas and the drinks were free."

“Where will we get more room? We’re not talking real estate here,” the little fellow said. “No one thinks this place exists anyway. They think we’re a figment of someone’s imagination. New arrivals are always surprised.”

Then the big man said, “Oh, some people know we exist but they think we only get dictators and used car salesmen. The common belief is everyone else goes upstairs right away, provided there is an upstairs. More and more people think there may be nothing at the end.” 

The little guy thought about that for a moment and said, “Well, I heard two women arguing the other day about where cats and dogs go. I know we don’t have any cats and dogs. Where would we put them? Pretty soon we’ll be getting Boomers. They’re a fussy bunch. We need more room now!

Sammy didn’t know what to make of all of this. He wished he wasn’t drunk so he could join the conversation but all he could do was listen. The two men finally left and Sammy told himself he’d come back tomorrow night and ask the bartender who the hell those two guys were. Then he tapped on the bar twice in front of his empty glass.

Donal Mahoney lives in St. Louis, Missouri.

Friday, June 5, 2015

Ramona Thompson- A Poem

Don't Give Up On Faith

Whatever you do
Whoever you are
Wherever you go
Let this life lesson
Follow you
To every end of the earth
Both near and far
Let never your heart
Forget to remember

You're never truly alone
Always he is there
Speaking to you
From within
Still, small voice
Sin eater
Ultimate forgiver
There is no shame
No fear or judgement
In him

He slays
The beast that stalks
Pulls off your back
The monkey that rides
Sweeps away
Every bad and wicked dream
He is constant
And he is sure
At your side
Greet with open arms
He who is now, then and eternal

Despite it
Praise still be
In his name
Breathe in the glory
The beauty of him
Wondrous mercy
Ultimate joy
Hide never
From his grace
Gentle hands to hold you up
If only you won't
Won't ever, ever
Oh don't you never ever
Don't you give up on faith
Finding you here
Even in the darkest of dark tonight

2015 Ramona Thompson

Ramona Thompson has been writing for more then 20 years. Her past credits include Howl, Dead Snakes, Calvary Cross, Blood Moon Rising, This Ain't No Rodeo and many more.

Readers/fans may reach her on facebook or through her e-mail

Donal Mahoney- A Poem

That Day

If he were to come today
I have no idea what I would say
except to admit I have been

expecting him, just not today.
Then I would join the sheep 
and the goats and wait for him 

to point the way I should go.
It would be too late, I know,
but, yes, I would pray.

Donal Mahoney lives in St. Louis, Missouri.

Lela Marie De La Garza- A Poem


A rock is not a mountain                 
But fills a needed place;
God has plans for all
Of His eternal space.

Donal Mahoney- A Poem


Seeing is believing
smart people
often tell me but

no one ever told me
believing is seeing
except this blind lady

I help across the street
who taps her cane
and tells me 

you’ll find out
when you leave Earth 
and whirl among the planets

and soar behind
the sun and moon
on the way to your place 

believing is seeing 
someone some say 
isn't there.

Donal Mahoney lives in St. Louis, Missouri.