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Lamplights at Dusk 

Along the tree-lined lane, I walk at dusk,
On pavement gray, well-washed by autumn showers,
And watch the fading day discard its husk,
As countless leaves cascade from russet bowers.

Beneath their noble, outstretched arms I stroll
From pool to pool of light along the way
Cast cheerfully by each lamp-bearing pole
That holds the evening’s growing gloom at bay.

Before me now, the shades and swirling sheen
Of mist keeps veiled the winding path ahead,
Which disappears into a realm unseen,
Beyond this lighted lane on which I tread.

I pause and think about the steps I’ve made
And of the steps remaining till I pass
Beyond this lighted pond in which I wade
To that deep sea seen dimly as through glass.

Eternity! The word fills one with awe.
Yet on this truth my trusting soul relies—
That He whose Word is true and without flaw
Will not forsake His child the day he dies.

The One who paved this path and lined this mall
With glowing lamps to guide me on my way
Will surely be there when on Him I call
To take my hand in His at end of day.

He’ll lead me into regions yet unseen
And draw me forth upon that fateful night
To leave this narrow lane for fields of green
Prepared for me, though hidden now from sight.

So, looking up, beyond the lamplight’s glow,
I see in heaven itself more radiant beams,
Whose muted glory makes my heart o’erflow
With hope of joy beyond my wildest dreams.

.

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A Song in the Night 

“You shall have a song as in the night when a holy
feast is kept, and gladness of heart, as when one
sets out to the sound of the flute to go the
mountain of the Lord, to the Rock of Israel”
—Isaiah 30:29

You shall have a song, my child,
__A sweet song in the night,
When thunder rumbles, winds blow wild
__And lightning flashes bright.
When danger in the dark alarms
__And seizes you with fright,
I’ll come and take you in my arms
__And put your fears to flight.

I’ll sing to you a lullaby
__And hold you to my breast,
And rock you gently, as you sigh
__And close your eyes in rest.
Then through the wee night hours that flow,
__Contentedly caressed
By cheerful song and candle’s glow,
__You’ll lie in bed, so blessed!

As long ago, in sacred feasts,
__With joyfulness of heart,
The Jews, parading with their priests,
__At eventide would start
To climb the temple mount and sing,
__Each sounding his own part,
To make the hills with gladness ring
__And make the shades depart,

So shall I sing to you, my dear,
__To fill your heart with peace,
And banish from you every fear,
__And make your trembling cease.
May all your terrors fly away
__Like noisy flocks of geese
And night become to you like day
__As light and joy increase.

And shall I not receive, like you,
__Sweet comfort on that day
When my finale comes on cue,
__And I must pass away?
When, in the dark of night, I cry
__And to my Father pray:
“Be with me, Abba, as I die,
__And by my bedside stay!”

Will He not then sing songs to me
__And to my weakness bend,
And lift me up so tenderly
__As my most faithful Friend?
Ah, yes! For from God’s love, so strong,
__No force can ever rend
The soul to whom He sings His song
__And grants a blessed end.

.

.

Martin Rizley grew up in Oklahoma and in Texas, and has served in pastoral ministry both in the United States and in Europe. He is currently serving as the pastor of a small evangelical church in the city of Málaga on the southern coast of Spain, where he lives with his wife and daughter. Martin has enjoyed writing and reading poetry as a hobby since his early youth.

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17 Responses

  1. Jeremiah Johnson

    Martin, What a wonderful lullaby! I love the transitions from holding a crying child, to ancient processions of worship, to Our Father’s arms. Not to mention the comparison of night terrors to “noisy flocks of geese” – which, though a flock of geese is a joyous thing – is still a very fitting metaphor!

    Reply
    • Martin Rizley

      Thank you, Jeremiah, for your feedback! It is quite true, as you point out, that the sound of geese honking as they fly overhead is a lovely sound that stirs joy in the heart of those who are nature lovers. But I think that in this context, as you say, it is not inappropriate to use the image of noisy geese to flying away to represent the departure of former fears.

      Reply
  2. C.B. Anderson

    Some beautiful lyricism here, Martin, where each poem, in turn, uses autumn or going to sleep as metaphorical circumstance for what is really the point: the impending passage into a somewhat/somehow mysterious realm. Your control of mood is superb, and the language itself sparkles.

    Reply
    • Martin Rizley

      Thank you for your very encouraging critique, C.B.! I think autumn is my favorite season for so many reasons; there is something about the change from summer to autumn that inspires thoughts about human mortality and the world to come. Autumn hangs in that mysterious twilit zone that lies between the torrid heat and blazing sun of summer and the icy cold and dark of winter; its dropping temperatures, cooling breezes, overcast skies, melancholy mists, and wafting leaves all speak of the transcience and mutability of this present life, and that for me, has always stirred my heart to write. Thanks again for your feedback!

      Reply
  3. Roy Eugene Peterson

    Martin, these are two elegant poems with outstanding meter and rhyme transitioning from the limited heights of joy on earth to the transcendent supernal realm. The first one brought to mind an old song about the old lamplighter of long ago. Your vivid detailed imagery with occasional alliteration in both poems completely entranced me and I felt I was allowed access to a beautiful mind and soul. Amen.

    Reply
    • Martin Rizley

      Roy, I am moved by your words, and so glad that the poems resonated with you on an emotional level. I remember my mother reading to me when I was a child the poem you mention about the lamplighter. She probably read to me over the course of time all of Stevenson´s poems in “A Child´s Garden of Verses” a book which no doubt, had a great impact on my young mind, awakening in me a love of language and of poetry, in particular.

      Reply
  4. Yael

    These are 2 beautiful poems which I enjoyed reading very much, thank you for sharing! May God bless you and make His face shine upon you.

    Reply
    • Martin Rizley

      Thank you, Yael, for your appreciative feedback; and may God bless you, as well.

      Reply
  5. jd

    Both poems are beautiful. I especially love the cadence in the first. Thank you for them. You are blessed to speak so well for Our Lord.

    Reply
    • Martin Rizley

      jd, I really appreciate your kind words and am so glad you enjoyed both poems. It is a blessing to me to be able to share them.

      Reply
  6. Joseph S. Salemi

    Those are very beautifully crafted quatrains in “Lamplights at Dusk.” And as Kip Anderson says, the command of language in both poems is remarkable. I believe the line “To that deep sea seen dimly as through glass” alludes to the scriptural passage “Now we see as through a glass darkly, but then we shall see clearly…”, and the contrast between “this lighted pond” (our earthly existence) and “that deep sea” (eternity) is perfectly interwoven with the allusion.

    The first poem deals with sight and vision, while “A Song of the Night” deals with sound and hearing. It is in the voice of a mother speaking to an infant, but it skillfully moves from that situation to a meditation on the “sleep” of mortality, which the mother (and all human beings) must face. This poem reminds me of the religious work of Christina Rossetti.

    Reply
    • Martin Rizley

      Thank you so much, Dr. Salemi, for your much valued critique. I had not picked up on the contrast between the two poems in terms of how the first focuses on sight and vision and the second on sound and hearing. Thank you for your feedback.

      Reply
  7. Gigi Ryan

    Dear Martin,

    I love these poems!

    I, too, find that scenes before me as I walk provide me with analogies. Your walk moves the reader from the night lit by the street lamps to the brilliance of eternal day. What joy!

    And your lullaby for adults is steeped not only with comforting truths, but with the tender love of the Heavenly Father.

    Thank you for both of these.
    Gigi

    Reply
    • Martin Rizley

      Gigi, Thank you for sharing with me the joy you felt in reading the poems! It makes me very happy to know that the images and message in the poems resonated with you.

      Reply
  8. Shamik Banerjee

    Your poems always make my days better, Mr. Rizley. These pieces are gems. “Lamplights at Dusk,” like all your observational poems, is rich with imagery and bears an undisturbed rhythm—an absolute joy-heightener. You give life to everyday things by weaving such beautiful lines to such an extent that they change our outlook toward these objects. And yes, linking them to God and your personal concerns/ thoughts about Him and His methods. “A Song in the Night” is a carefully-constructed melodious piece. How beautiful: a father is singing to his son, imparting hope and strength to him, assuring him of his unceasing protection, while also pondering whether the Father of all will do the same to him. Touching, beautiful, and musical!

    Reply
    • Martin Rizley

      Shamik, Thank your very encouraging words. I am so glad my poems “make your days better”– I can´t think of a lovelier compliment! I hope you have a wonderful day and look forward to reading more of your poems.

      Reply
  9. Margaret Coats

    The evening scene in “Lamplights at Dusk” is a lovely one, Martin. It flows easily and naturally into the spiritual considerations it suggests. These are “yet unseen,” but approached in calm and logical trust. The final stanza, with the reprise of “lamplight glow,” and each line thereafter moving further forward into imaginative expectation of the unknown future, does in fact end on the highest possible note. This is risky, as the attempted crescendo might fail, and thus many poems on such a subject employ a quiet ending instead. I think your expansive yet measured tone overall enables you to succeed.

    Reply

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