Steven Jacobson- A Poem

Cherub-Child

the being and birth,

of the bethel babe,

sharing and shining like a new penny.

circulating and collecting,

the imagination and innocence of hearts

and harboring soul and spirit.

charming and caring,

celestial cherub-like

connection within the child-being.

partaking, pleasing and possessing,

our true disembodiment of spirit

from the physical mind and body.

effortlessly emptying, enduring and endlessly,

overflowing like a brimming brook,

safe haven and a sanctuary,

for the tirelessly, throbbing and touching,

tributaries of love and life, forever entwined.

Lela Marie De La Garza- A Poem

MAKE A JOYFUL NOISE

I will praise Him

With notes like pearls;

I will thank Him

With chords of gold

I shall sing

Till the silver clouds

Covering Heaven’s

Floor unfold.

Richard D. Hartwell- A Poem

Divulged

My self, my soul,

I neither know,

for both seem

far beyond me.

Yet when I kneel

before my God,

then all will be

disclosed to me.

Jnana Hodson- Three Poems

OUT OF THE RESTLESS AIR

rather than turning to the more pressing matter of worship

or guiding those irregular in their attendance

what else do we do

in all the cars racing past the meetinghouse

on First-day morning?

in many ways, my neighbors are strangers

more fugitive than I am

*   *   *

free gospel ministry

“in the faith that is Christ Jesus”

captures more madness than each individual requires

*   *   *

O Holy One, draw forth

new aspirants

out of the restless air

into service

NOW TO BE HONEST

if I reprimand you

after you sin against me

or against others

if you acknowledge our interaction

if I admit to myself what you’ve done

or my participation

one will invite Revelation

now be honest

adapting

to change

MONTHLY, QUARTERLY, YEARLY

punctual attendance at Meeting for Business is important

as worship

for to love is finding work also

there unmasked, when failing

a shining model of uprightness

and moderation

this purposing of expectation

coming to befriend each other

in daily labor and dreaming

vigilant close labor with any who slight

the holy standard

purposing

a forgiving spirit cherished by the whole 

to resume anew

aggregating strength

for individual tribulations

where you’d otherwise succumb

*   *   *

the old pendulum, tick-tock

causes more than one who attends

to sit on the far side of the unadorned room

and that’s their business

 

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.