Bruce Mundhenke- A Poem

Water of Gladness

May the love of the Lord,
And the beauty of His creation,
Become a river and a Stream,
That they may flow through your heart,
And fill it over full with
The water of gladness.

Linda M. Crate- Three Poems

putting my stones down

maybe if we could drop
all our stones
Your name
would be better glorified
in a hard, bitter
world
forgetful of all the good and remembering
all of the bad;
maybe if we clothed and fed those
who needed help
You would shine through our eyes—
if we could remember
You don't judge us for all the wickedness
we've done
perhaps then we could remember You love them
as much You love us.


like You

if You could forgive
all the vile
things
i have done,
then why shouldn't i forgive those
who hurt me?
You gave me perfect grace
and perfect love
so i cannot
refuse
to love others because in loving them
i become like You,
and that is what you've called me to be.


being a blessing like You

there has to be a change
in who we are if we are to be
like You
if we truly want to make a difference
then we need to put down our stones
lose our pride,
and remember to love and have compassion
even for those who don't deserve it;
because none of us
deserve Your perfect grace,
and yet if we accept Your mercy then You rain
down Your blessings
so i hope to bless others as You've blessed
me.

Ramona Thompson- A Poem

Don't Get So High

If you can't stay
Clean and sober
At least do
This one thing
Have the guts enough to
Not turn your back completely
Give at least a little bit
Over to him
Don't forget
From whom and where you come from

He made you
Now that devil monkey on your back
Desperate to break you
Remake you
In the image of Hell on Earth
That demon drug
Got you in its grip
And don't look like
It's gonna let go any time soon

Far from Heaven
But it's never too late
To ask
To be forgiven
Step back from
Falling off that fatal deep end
He can save you
But only if you don't stray
All the way away

So i'll ask you
Just once
Not twice
Don't make that mistake
Don't think
You can make it
100 percent
Without him
There to guide and protect you
When the bottom finally falls out
My son
Don't get so high
You forget
Jesus is love forever
The drug is only short term

2015 Ramona Thompson



Ramona Thompson has been writing for more then 20 years. Her past publishing credits include Dead Snakes, Calvary Cross, Infernal Ink, Erotic Tales of The Paranormal, Howl and many more.

Fans/readers may reach her via facebook or her e-mail reddstar111@gmail.com

Bruce Mundhenke- Three Poems

Eternal Moment

In a moment of beauty I looked around
And all I saw was You.
If that moment could have lasted forever,
Forever it would have been new.



The Word

Have you not heard the Word,
Sighing in the breeze,
Descending with the rain,
Singing in the trees?
All that is heard came by the Word.



The Garden

There were trees there in the garden,
They flourished in the wind,
Placed there with love,
Each to the others companion and friend.

Heavenly dew on their branches,
Not a rain drop yet had come.
Their joy was exceedingly full,
Knowing where they were from.

There was as yet no time there,
The past and present were one,
Endless euphoria...
No evil yet had been done.

And they knew the Ancient One,
For He walked often in that grove,
They loved and were loved in perfect love,
And none with another strove.

Some still visit the garden,
For a brief time now and then,
And all of us long for the Ancient One,
He will walk among us again.



Bruce Mundhenke has worked as a laborer and a registered nurse.
He enjoys reading and writing poetry and he just started trying to publish some of it. He lives in Illinois with his wife,their niece, and their dog and cat.

Allison Grayhurst- Three Poems

Courage Where I Lie

 

It’s been my right hand on fire,

my eyes undertow

and my lips sliced by ant bites

that brought me to this landscape

of difficult beauty

where there is no allowance for sun,

but still, there is joy

within the darkness. There are shapes

and there is

possibility.

This land of undefined lines

and little colour, where the warmest beat

has died, and even that, somehow, is

surmountable. A land where miracles

will not be defeated by death

or by a torn perfection.

 

 

I Try To Breathe

 

God said

I didn’t do it out of malice,

I did it out of mercy.

And so I try to understand

through the emotion of purified faith.

I try to recognize the truth petrified within

like a soul cracked and brittle

but still shining its unique glow.

The cold egg sits in my pocket.

I keep it there for when I get hungry,

if I get hungry,

which doesn’t seem to happen much

anymore.

So it sits, cold, rubbery and whole,

sits, an egg too squished to roll,

sits for potential nourishment, as security without salt.

I try not to use it. I try to hold onto what God said

and breathe that in

as my only necessary

sustenance.

 

 

The Many Lights of Eden

 

The one with many lights

standing by the new water

traveled by carrying a throne on his shoulders.

 

Bartholomew came and

Bartholomew wandered

like a visitor where ever he was.

The one brought by fear’s inception

(fear of being rejected and a

desperation to be loved)

also brought a strange deception.

 

But the one with many lights

speaks softly on the inside

and leaves all bodies easily breathing.

Bio:Allison Grayhurst is a member of the League of Canadian Poets. Twice nominated for Sundress Publications “Best of the Net” 2015, she has over 700 poems published in over 330 international journals. She has eleven published books of poetry, seven collections, seven chapbooks, and a chapbook pending publication. She lives in Toronto with her family. She also sculpts, working with clay; www.allisongrayhurst.com

 

            Some of the places my work has appeared in include Parabola (Alone & Together print issue summer 2012); Elephant Journal; Literary Orphans; Blue Fifth Review; The American Aesthetic; Agave Magazine; JuxtaProse Literary Magazine, South Florida Arts Journal; Gris-Gris; The Muse – An International Journal of Poetry, Storm Cellar, morphrog (sister publication of Frogmore Papers); New Binary Press Anthology; The Brooklyn Voice; Straylight Literary Magazine (print); The Milo Review; Foliate Oak Literary Magazine; The Antigonish Review; Dalhousie Review; The New Quarterly; Wascana Review; Poetry Nottingham International; The Cape Rock; Ayris; Journal of Contemporary Anglo-Scandinavian Poetry; The Toronto Quarterly; Fogged Clarity, Boston Poetry Magazine; Decanto; White Wall Review.  

 

Donal Mahoney- A Poem

Night Light 

 

The last visitor before I sleep

is always the old priest

puffing up the stairs to my door,

a wine cask under each arm,

a loaf of pumpernickel in his teeth.

He’s always too late to give the last rites,

and even though I’m usually dead by then,

it falls to me to console him.

So I say, “Father, Father,

you don’t have to hurry.

Faith is no longer a klieg.

It’s a night light left burning all day,

and its bulb is hissing.”

 

Donal Mahoney

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

This poem was first published in 

Commonweal Magazine, November 6, 2009. 

Ramona Thompson- A Poem

Keeping The Christ

It's his day
Day of his birth
So why are we so selfish?
Why won't we share?
When did it all become about us?
Instead of what he did for us
On the cross
Gave his all
Yet we can't give him
This one simple thing

What's gone wrong here?
When did we forget?
When did we turn our backs?
It's all not just about
The presents and the food
It's about him
Those who deny this
Well I feel sorry for them
Denying their lord and maker
Just maybe going to Hell

If you don't love him now
During his special time of the year
You've got no right
To praise him any other time
Cause the Lord and everyone knows
You don't really mean it
So why don't you just quit?
Trying to sell it
Unbeliever all year long
You're oh so wrong
And you know it

So jingle those bells
Kiss under those mistletoes
But nothing's gonna change the facts
We're at war here
Between greed and the truth
At the end on which side will you be standing?
I don't know about you
But this year I'll be keeping the Christ
Keeping the Christ in Christmas!

2015 Ramona Thompson


Ramona Thompson has been writing for more then 20 years. Her past publishing credits include Dead Snakes, Calvary Cross, Infernal Ink, Erotic Tales of The Paranormal, Howl and many more.

Fans/readers may reach her via facebook or her e-mail reddstar111@gmail.com

Ron Riekki- A Poem

The Everything of God

We can fit

so much

into a narrow

path;

yes,

reader,

even

you.

Bio: Ron Riekki's books include Here, The Way North, and U.P.

Heather Browne- Three Poems

Palm Sunday

We handed out palm fronds,
cut down for today,
to wave and welcome our Holy King.
Swinging and singing
Our leaves dry out, they separate
from branch,
and fall at our feet.
His carpeted walk
I left them there.
Laying down Jesus. 

Worshippers didn’t notice,
stepping on them,
over them, as they left.
Jesus at our feet.

I stayed and picked them up,
one by one.
Now, a leathery hide,
tougher, ribs and veins protruding,
felt.
I rubbed them.
Jesus in my hands,
as they wither,
losing life,
and tear.

Recycling Palm Sunday

He pulled down the fronds
from the cross
Duct tape – no nails
Easily removed – leaving no mark
I hadn’t thought much about them, until they were gone.
Do we welcome Jesus to the cross?

He crumpled them, tossing
them into the white plastic trash bag,
picking up remnants – leaving no trace
Sealed and pitched

I went and reclaimed it,
making it mine.
Plastic doesn’t break down
Preserving decomposing
Tearing the body bag
with nails,
a musty sharp smell
tightening throat – hard to breathe
I placed the palms on top
of our mulch pile,
where gardeners would work them,
covering them
and returning them into the earth,
waiting
until the time
to spring forth
new life.
  

Our Daily Bread

October moon refused his place and kneeled
Pulling low on azure sky
Unfinished brass and beaded chain
He came to light, dangling far beneath the stars

Longing all the world to know his saints
Ignatius, Sophia, Mother Mary
Glorifying their names, rolling beads upon the wind
Palms bow and blow

Give us this day our daily bread
Communion wafer waxed offered reverently upon our hungered tongue
Everything, everything under the stars and moon
Obtainable in preservation 

John Kaniecki- A Poem

Help Me Jesus

 

Help me Jesus, be my guide

Help me Jesus, I wanna hide

To hide away

From the dark day

 

Help me Jesus to understand

That everything is in your hand

 

Help me Jesus bring some hope

It’s hard to live, hard to cope

 

The devil he wears five stars

Hangs out in the finest bars

He wears suits of exquisite silk

The banker, the lawyer that is their ilk

 

Satan he is the dark foe

But he still doesn’t know

That what happened on the cross

It was Satan’s biggest loss

 

Help me Jesus, to proclaim

The victory in your name

Help my Lord this I pray

Help me today

 

 

Lily Tierney- A Poem

Baptized

I know it is quicksand,
the more you struggle
the deeper it takes you.

Just float it can't be more
than a few feet.
But, it feels like a tunnel
going into the depths of
my soul.

A stranger's hand reaching out,
I grasp it having known this person
for eternity.

I can see myself in the mirror,
my reflection is full of sand and clay.
I, however, have been washed clean; as if
baptized for the sins I never committed.

Donal Mahoney- A Poem

Character Flaw

Millie wants Willie to make up,

go back to the way they were,

be lovey-dovey, hunky-dory.

Willie wishes he could 

but that’s not the way he is.

He has a character flaw,

permanent as a birthmark

his mother told him 

when he was only six.

Some folks can forgive 

and then forget but that’s 

not you Willie, she said.

When he heard about 

the crucifixions in Syria,

he said that's genocide, 

plain and simple. 

Willie’s can't forget 

a wrong, big or small.

It’s hard to forgive, he says,

never mind forget ISIS.

You’re not ISIS, Willie,

his Millie reassures him.

You just have a conscience.

No nails, no hammer.

Donal Mahoney

—————————————————————

Donal Mahoney lives in St. Louis, Missouri,

far from Syria where ISIS continues to crucify

Christians—23 the other day—and he hears

no mention of it on our mainstream media. 

Donal Mahoney- A Poem

Angels, Devils and Halloween

Three are known by name, 

Michael, Gabriel, and Raphael, 

but there are a zillion angels,

pure spirits who have no wings 

like those we draw on Cherubim, 

the baby angels, or the wings we add

to Seraphim, that mighty choir 

of angels singing Hosannas 

day and night in heaven.

You see, it’s the Guardian Angels

I’m partial to, not the ones 

who patrol Central Park

separating guns from joggers.

I mean real Guardian Angels, 

the ones who fight fallen angels,

the real devils who create hell in us

while kids wear horns on Halloween.

If Guardian Angels had wings

I’m sure they’d be battered and torn 

after fighting the devils we entertain

every day not just on Halloween. 

Donal Mahoney

——————————————————————————

Angels indeed are in the Bible but in recent years they seem to have been adopted by the New Age Movement, something that recently brought them to the attention of the writer who previously had not thought that much about them. He’s happy believing in the Trinity even if due to the finite mind he shares with all humans, he will never understand the Trinity on Earth. 

Andrew M. Bowen- A Poem

No gems adorning
throats can match the stars sprinkled
across the sky.  I
wonder which of them warms the
world upon which Christ now works.


Andrew M. Bowen works as a sales manager in Bloomington, IN.  He has published 26 poems and recently submitted his first two novels for publication.  He is also an actor who has has appeared in eight independent films, six stage productions,and one radio teleplay.