Agatangeghos palimpsest‘Palimpsest’ and Other Poetry by T.M. Moore The Society December 27, 2019 Beauty, Culture, Poetry 8 Comments Palimpsest …written in their hearts… Romans 2.15 We try, but cannot fully scrape away those ancient words engraved upon the soul. We would instead compose upon the scroll of our morality that which today appeals, although we understand that too will overwritten be at some point soon enough. Whatever pleasing, wooing tune is in the air, whatever views are new and chic, we write upon our soul, and think we are at least not out of step with what the world defines as true and normal. But we write such codes with disappearing ink. __Meanwhile, those ancient words of love for men __and God persist, and will bleed through again. Prime Time I look around our home at Christmas time – the lighted, decorated trees, displays of the Nativity, and all the ways we mark this special time of year – and I’m filled with contentment. Christmas is the prime of every year, and how we keep it says a lot about our faith, and how we praise our God. Our decorations are a rhyme of lights, folk culture, and creation’s glory, while music of all kinds invokes the joy of seasons past and precious truths that give us hope and fill our days with peace: The story of the eternal King, Who came, a Boy in swaddling clothes, that we might ever live. Let Not My Words a villanelle after 1 Samuel 3.19 Let not my words fall to the ground, O Lord, like Onan’s wasted, self-indulgent seed. Let my words sound Your ever-fruitful Word, and let them be far-flung, and gladly heard or read according to each person’s need. Let not my words fall to the ground, O Lord, like some old, splintered, poorly-fastened board. Let many take them up, and as they read, let my words sound your ever-fruitful Word; and in the chambers of men’s souls, deep bored, let them embed and germinate with speed. Let not my words fall to the ground, O Lord, but draw them from Your scabbard with Your Sword, and let them truth advance and lies impede, that they may sound Your ever-fruitful Word. Let my vocation with Your will accord, in diligence and faithfulness, I plead. Let not my words fall to the ground, O Lord; let my words sound Your ever-fruitful Word. Lift Me Psalm 141 He parks his front paws on the hassock right in front of me, looks up, and barks – just so I know he’s there. He seems as if he might jump up, but doesn’t. For, as we both know, he can’t. And anyway, that’s not the drill. He gazes plaintively, his black eyes so intent on gaining mine. I know he will persist there, shifting on his hind legs, to and fro, a whimper now and then, until he captures my attention and I do what he desires. He makes me smile, and when I do, his ears droop and his eyes look through my eyes, and we connect. And once again, as always, he secures the outcome he intends: I lift him to my lap, and then he curls up, settles in, and rests on me. And that’s the way I want my prayers to be. T.M. Moore’s poetry has appeared in numerous journals, and he has published five volumes of verse through his ministry’s imprint, Waxed Tablet Publications. He is Principal of The Fellowship of Ailbe, he and his wife, Susie, reside in Essex Junction, VT. Views expressed by individual poets and writers on this website and by commenters do not represent the views of the entire Society. The comments section on regular posts is meant to be a place for civil and fruitful discussion. Pseudonyms are discouraged. The individual poet or writer featured in a post has the ability to remove any or all comments by emailing submissions@ classicalpoets.org with the details and under the subject title “Remove Comment.” Share this:Click to share on Twitter (Opens in new window)Click to share on Facebook (Opens in new window)Click to print (Opens in new window)Click to share on LinkedIn (Opens in new window)Click to share on WhatsApp (Opens in new window)Click to email this to a friend (Opens in new window)Click to share on Pinterest (Opens in new window) 8 Responses Amy Foreman December 27, 2019 “Palimpsest” goes on my list of favorite sonnets, T.M. Chock-full of truth and meaning and perfectly adhering to the palimpsest metaphor throughout. Well done! I thought, also, as I read “Lift Me,” of Psalm 123:2: “Behold, as the eyes of servants look unto the hand of their masters, and as the eyes of a maiden unto the hand of her mistress; so our eyes wait upon the LORD our God, until that he have mercy upon us.” Thank you for sharing your well-executed, masterful interactions with the eternal Word. Your poems are a treasure. Reply Mark F. Stone December 28, 2019 T.M., The dog in the final poem sounds just like my dog. That’s what makes me like this poem so much. Mark Reply C.B. Anderson December 28, 2019 T.M., You have mastered the fixed forms, you have mastered the meter and the rhyme, so what is left for you to master is the deft touch of past masters who produced quotable lines. God knows, I am very sympathetic with the content of your messages, but I would like to read some lines now and then that are a bit more edgy. I can’t explain my preference, except to say that blandness can sometimes kill the most incisive buzz. Overall, you should keep on doing what you’re doing, disregard anything I have to say about it, and follow your own star. Reply Christina December 28, 2019 T.M. These poems are beautiful, and so peaceful and prayerful a contrast to the recent frenetic commercialism that is, sadly, all that this holy season has come to mean for so many people. I love the picture of your dog joining you as you pray. Although I may be reclining in an armchair (dodgy joints) when I pray, my dog infallibly senses the change in me, nuzzles my knee to secure eye contact followed by gentle stroking that is a mutual comfort and no distraction for me. Thank you for these poems. Reply T. M. December 29, 2019 All Y’all: Thanks for the kind words of appreciation and encouragement. Reply Monty December 31, 2019 Strong, immaculate poetry, TM . . you’re back to your best. I particularly like the way you describe your dog’s routine ritual to gain your lap. Reply T.M. January 2, 2020 Thanks, Monty. Reply Amy January 21, 2020 T.M.- your poem ‘Palimpsest’ brought me to good tears, as I cannot recall when last I read or heard a poem that lyrically pleasant and meaningful. As a writer, I am grateful to have stumbled across your poetry and look forward to reading more works from you. There is a certain beauty and poetic stillness in your poems which I very much admire. Reply Leave a Reply Cancel ReplyYour email address will not be published.CommentName* Email* Website Notify me of follow-up comments by email. Notify me of new posts by email. This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.