Beauty

. Homebound They get too old to come to Mass, too sick, Too shaky on their legs or just too scared To leave the house. The bleak arithmetic Of life has caught them sorely unprepared And suddenly the simple life they shared In prayer within the safety of their pew...

. The Darkened Hill We drove and found the childhood place where you would run and hide for space away from family pain and disgrace. Up to the top of the darkened hill we crept and stopped to drink our fill of midnight growing, falling still. All was quiet in...

. Without a Dad Without a Dad, you are not sure, And never know you could endure The many doubts that blur your sight, Or fears that stalk you every night; If he’s not present, there’s no cure. And then there is the world’s allure That offers all that is...

. Venus Sighed Venus sighed and turned aside, tired of seeing people try to feebly mimic Beauty’s pride, too easily pleasing hungry eyes that eat what they are given. Steeped in heaps of plastic flowers, plastic breasts and plastic towers, the Goddess sought a fleshy bower on which her blessings...

. The Old Native Chieftain The old native chieftain from forests among __Bright sparkling lakes of the tribe, With death approaching instinctively covets __The spot where his transition lies. Reclining in solitude ‘midst verdant hills __Where spirits more closely abide, He’s drawn to rare lightness where portals are linked __To...

. Puffins The puffin’s beak is bright: Quince yellow stripes contrast With chests of fluffy white And wings of satin black, But suit dense orange web feet. When jauntily upcast, Snouts call for tap and clack, Long spells of smack and slap, Headcracking snaps aback As nozzles overlap When friendly...

. Unchristian I hope you burn in Hell for nasty things You said to me, but if you don’t, I hope A host of energetic angel wings Will lash your eyes.  The blurry King of Kings, As toward His golden God-side throne you grope, For words you spoke, should wash...

. The Barista’s Hands Surprisingly, she knew my name and used the chance to give a fleeting glimpse and catch me off my guard. I cocked my head, perused her angled pose, and stretched enough to match her risk. "You have one up on me, I think: I never caught...

. Kintsugi  There is an ancient practice in Japan--- Chipped and broken vessels, dear to hearts, Are mended with a striking golden blend. These cracked ceramics, kissed with artistry, Have former glory honorably restored. Each gleaming seam adds meaning to their worth. This emphasis of imperfection shows The wonder of destruction and rebirth--- The value of life’s scuffs and...

. Foothold Of hearth and home the better part is not the decorator’s art: not tasteful pillows, painted walls, or photographs along the halls, but sturdy footing, on whose rust a body steps with careless trust. One walks most surely when at home. But I have gone, away, alone, and...

. Symbolic Expression As polar opposites these days,The liberals and conservativesExpress opinions different ways. They rarely ever are in sync,Since Liberals always say “I feel…,”Conservatives start with:  “I think….” . . Out Of Order When life interrupts my routines,It then is a rather good bet,That such change of regimen means,Some things...

. The Hunchback The belfry beckons. Once again it’s time. This is my cross, the task I’m forced to bear. “To the Cathedral! Hear the noon bells chime!” I summon all of Paris here for prayer. Monseigneur says this justifies the scraps Of moldy bread which keep my wounded heart...

. In The Beginning We’re stuck in the middle, unsure of the ending but guessing the outcome by how things are trending should make it apparent it’s foolish to frolic and cause us to worry and be melancholic. When all the signs indicate evil is winning, it’s good to remember...

. On Turning the Page of a New Year---2023-2024 The hour-glass is almost void of sand,a rounding of the sun described in grainsthat drain away. Now little time remainsas New Year stalks the browns and greens of land.Don’t ask me with what warring tribe I stand,the sting of every squirming...

. A Prayerful Pantoum for the Perpetually Pessimistic  "We'll take a cup of kindness yet, for auld lang syne."  ---Robert Burns For bellyachers belching bile this year For sourpusses (huffish and offended) I’ll pray for spines of steel and hearts of cheer--- A splendid year where rifts are swiftly mended. For sourpusses (huffish and offended) For...

. New Year's Eve So swiftly tick the minutes to the close Of these twelve months, this day, and life itself! Which jars of clay will stay upon the shelf Another year, and which will break? God knows. For only He who gave us life has power To take us...

. Anniversary Pastoral for Benedict XVI Trustworthy Shepherd of all shepherds, hear Today’s renewed appeal in concord made For Benedict, departed now one year. That he to restful comfort be conveyed, His mourners beg from pasture, grove, and glade. Ye pastors of dejected flocks, arise And lead your sheep in...

. An Abandoned Cemetery Pines thinly hid them on the forest floor: huge, useless molars, only three or four upright---a sign remembrance, too, had died. He climbed the rusted gate and jumped inside. Thick, unpruned brush could mask but not deny these double deaths.  But leaf-flecked morning sky gave him...

. Christmas Medley performed by Jeff Eardley . . Absent Friends The Christmas lights are twinkling on the houses all around. All we need’s a frosting and some snow upon the ground. But as this old year rattles on, and crashes to its end, It’s time to raise a glass...

. The Evening The Times Newspaper Turned Into Jane Eyre My life had become like a broadsheet,__The Telegraph, maybe The Times:The financial section---prose sober and neat;__Inflation---the yen falls and climbs. While reading this daily, and ever more jaded,__By boring discussions of wages, My newspaper tore, the ink quickly faded: __You...

. Common Currency There’s little written that cannot be said in some way that misunderstands or read as was not meant to be. There’s little heard that’s taken just as meant. There is no word confined by edges---words are not like coins, though valued nonetheless; they don’t enjoin some measured...

. At The Metropolitan Museum one good reason for the French Revolution Once at the Met, we walked the halls, and she Looked past locked doors, each shaded mystery; Then gazed in silence at a gilded bed— Gasped in delight. French fripperies! she said. Not any couch where Mama might...

. To One Outspoken for A.B. If I had but a fraction of the zeal That burns in you like a volcanic flame And rings like a war-trumpet’s brazen peal Enraptured by the truths it dares proclaim, I doubt not my own righteous rage would deal Deft, crushing thunder where...

. Christmas Hallelujah sung to the melody of “Hallelujah” by Leonard Cohen When I hear a song of destiny, Of peace and love and harmony, From deep within I feel an Hallelujah. When I can feel a tingling spine, A heavenly vision with earth align, Then from my soul I'm...

. The Ancient Christmas Tree A Dream Memory . The ridge out the window was blanketed white With snow that had fallen that long winter’s night. A lad of eleven, I woke to the noise Of far-away shouts from the neighborhood boys Who were rolling up snowballs and forts for...

. The Ultimate Christmas Gift “Maybe Christmas, the Grinch thought, doesn’t come from a store.” ---Dr. Seuss This gift winks in the sparkle of the star That tops the twinkling tree with spangled joy __In honor of His boy--- The one who drew three Magi from afar, And shepherds from...

. Author/Composer’s Note: The noël, Il est Né le Divin Enfant (“He is Born, the Divine Christ Child”) is one of the most beloved and beautiful French carols to have crossed into the English-speaking world. For Christmas this year I have taken the opportunity to compose a new piano arrangement...

. . “Even now, in sordid particulars, the eternal design may appear.” ---T.S. Eliot, Murder in the Cathedral . Among the moan of kine and smell of sheep, The plaintive whine of fowls half-asleep, A woman in the throes of Eve’s distress (Who never chose this charge, yet answered “yes”)...

. The Wisemen and the Shepherds after Eileen Duggan The camels’ footfalls over and around Baked dunes, through pebbled streams, on forest floors; The sages straddling humps without a sound Who’ve long exhausted scholarly word stores; Like galleons cresting glittering hill on hill, The sunburnt sailors’ wills bent to their...

. Christmas by Force The jostling beast increases the distress Of Mary whose first labor has progressed. Joseph of the donkey’s reins keeps hold; The night is clear and calm, the desert cold. In town each door rejects their urgent need, Prophetic theme for this, the promised Seed. Labor does...

. Christmas I don’t recall the tree or what we ate With sentiment Dickensian and sweet. The tree was in a Midwest way ornate; The food: potatoes certainly; some meat. The past for me gives off more light than heat And memory is nearly pure caprice: As images within its...

. . Decay What causes a relationship to fail? Decay sets in when thoughtlessness persists, when selfishness extends beyond the pale, and chances to show love are blindly missed. . Vacated houses crumbling with decay once teemed with life and families with dreams. Now in the wind, these spindly structures...

. Midwinter “O blesséd day we now enjoy, from heaven it is granted.  He brings us bliss, He shows Himself for all our joy and worship!  O may our Lord each one today defend us from all evil!” ---from W. Stenhammar’s symphonic poem “Midwinter” Across the frosty fields the bleak...

. . To a Budding Ode   with apologies to John Keats   . I’m in the mood to crack your odic code; To load your stanzas in the mode of Keats--- Acanthus leaf-fringed Grecian urns bestowed To you with rhythmic pipe and timbrel beats. My bardic bent may hit the odd...

. December Oak Leaves Puis çà, puis là, comme le vent varie, A son plaisir sans cesser nous charrie, (The wind, gleefully, pushing us, changing its mind, Forwards and backwards, all of the time.) ---François Villon, "La Ballade des pendus" (“The Ballad of the Hanged Men”) The oak leaves are...

. . Webb Beyond the vast and empty sky, Where darkness dwells forever wide, The eye arrives to question, "Why?" The universe has long denied A distant glimpse to those below Who seek to see where stars collide. But now the eye can help them know The stars the heavens...

. Miles Fidelis (The Faithful Soldier)  for Joseph Salemi, whose essay introduced me to the soldier of this poem. The city shakes! Vesuvius spouts fire As Vulcan grins through Jupiter’s hot breath. Brute thunder roars. Pompeii’s become a pyre Of sulfur-crusted rubble rife with death. A ghastly pall has crimsoned...

. Are you looking for a good poem to read at your Christmas party or gathering? Is it a more serious or light-hearted event? Christmas poems come in a great variety of shapes and sizes. They can be short or quite long, such poet Talbot Hook's adaptation of Dickens' A...

. Against All Earthly Fire “Our earthly fire … no matter how fierce or widespread it may be is always of limited extent.” —A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man, James Joyce A checkered board in frozen mates, gray stones —seen from the hills that rise above the...

. Cattleman Sinewed arms and knotted hands, head inclined, intense you peer Toward the heavens, clear-sky eyes Viewing the parade of years. Corrals of cattle, sagebrush, sun with grief and gratitude are blessed, Nestled in a weathered heart, like heirlooms in a cedar chest. Few now ask to see them,...