Category Archives: Poetry

My poetry. Mostly Collects

The Song Remains

Voices gather at the front of the sanctuary
longing to lift a harmony pleasing to the gods.

They sing of kingdoms and realms yet to be
and how praise can be lifted to the heavens.

The choir stands firmly on earth slightly circled
around one who waves a rhythm in the air.

One voice cracks on the downbeat following a rest
and others smile through their notes.

The song constructed from the movement of air
remains floating upward through the roof to the skies.

Fathers and Daughters

Fathers and daughters turn circles holding hands
and paint each other's faces with favorite colors.
The words spoken as the evening moves into night
gently rest upon the air and need not go further
towards demands for the future or place expectations
that flinch in the face of possibilities.  Peace rests
between the generations after having shared
the experience of the weekend together.  Small miracles
have not been overlooked.  All attachments honored.
Those who stumble walk again with the help
of every presence.  No talk of salvation arises
as the fathers write daughters a letter.  Each one
inscribed with the words, "I am the luckiest Daddy
in the world to have you as a daughter."

We Are Wine

"We were water and now we are changed into wine!"
we cried two thousand years ago.  Where has our cry
gone?  The lip of the cup circles and circles forever
into infinity; surely there is enough room for a thousand
lips and more to drink the drink of life well into the evening.
Demons do not need to appear each and every time
we dare to come to the table.  And all waiting will cease
as we bring the chalice to our mouths and allow the 
juice of forever to wet our tongues.  This is our prayer,
we pray.  To be drenched in the love of one another.

First Blessing

We receive our first blessing when
the boy living down the street
asks us to be his girlfriend.

My daughter came inside for the evening
glowing with all future possibilities
embraced into the joy of being cared for.

She shared the unexpected news
before taking off her shoes and we danced
together with the front door still open.

How many times have our hearts
been made whole and for how long
do we frolic before laying our heads down?

…to walk in all God’s ways… – Deut 10:12

God, 
who strolls in the garden and in the desert,
who walks the sea and down from the mountaintop,
who dares to become human out of curiosity
and who dwells in our midst where we are gathered,
sometimes your steps are so wide apart
that our all-too-human strides stumble and trip
trying to keep up with the latest demands
of our own interpretation of your holy ways.
Pick us up and dust us off once again
and as many times as is needed
so we may more than dream
but yearn to walk with you.
Amen.

This Morning

This morning I write when I do not feel like writing
without thought of ought or should
or striving to meet any standard of perfection.  
The words are all there in the air and,
whether I pull them down through my typing fingers
or leave them for another day or for someone else
to use for me, they patiently do not call for attention.

This morning the busyness of the world can go ahead
and compete against itself believing one side
or another can and will prevail.  I choose not to be
in the press of such effort but in the rhythm
of small places where people once stood
thinking there was something more to all of this.