Beauty

. The Shepherd God On Autumn eves when solipsistic stars__Peer down on bloody, towering oaksWhose gnarled, twisted branches create bars__Encaging man in Fortune’s spokes,When groaning wind rustles through sloping eaves__To make one wonder why she grieves Despair parades these things before my eyes__Dungeoning the world with gloom,Obscuring heaven’s vivifying skies__To...

. Topics Over Time At 10 boys talk about the games in which they’ve played. At 14 they discuss the girls and “progress” made. At 16 there’s the homework everybody’s got, At 18 work or college and their future lot. At 25 it’s new jobs or careers presaged, At 30...

. Oh, the Days Oh, the days of poop and vomit! My best dress had drool upon it While I walked my teething child Up and down the hall for miles. Oh, the days of poop and vomit! When the baby chose to not sit In a high chair during...

. Meditation 4 "Now our Lord bestowed great gifts through small means..." ---Homily on Our Lord (11) "Therefore, whether you eat or drink, or whatever you do, do all to the glory of God." ---1 Corinthians 10.31 The glory's in the small stuff, for the small stuff's never small to...

. My New New Year I’m shunning bards of lilt and kilt tonight. My cup o’ kindness guzzled dry by kin Has urged the spurning of that worn-out rite Of seeing lame old, same old new years in… The fizz. The fuss. The toasts. The ghosts. The grief Of echoed...

. December 31 __Another year _Gasps out its dying breaths. __Oh, do not spare _Any further Death’s ___Swift hand _From seizing its demand! __Do not rue __An end now due. Another year begins anew. __The heavy sum _Of myriad events __Weighs burdensome _Beyond all tolerance, ___Sapped, drained, _And cannot be...

. Lines Written in a Time of Illness My body is weak, and this reflects my soul,Who baser pleasures is obsessed to know;For the mind, of late, has been filled with resentmentAnd not contented by mere sentimentWhich, however piously it’s offered,Relief from pain has never, ever, proffered.Just like the blessed...

. The Matters of Life With furrowed brow she knits away her troubles,Her wrinkled face so tight and drawn with age.The skeins of yarn unwind in rapid motionAs woes translate to tight and tighter gauge. Tho weary of her task, she stays determinedTo process life through each and every stage,Intent...

. On Learning of a Lover’s Death Your parting words were not exactly nice, But when I read the news that you had died, At least for old times’ sake, I should have cried. I haven’t—yet. Is that a crime? Suffice To say upon a time we loved, made love,...

. The Blank-Page Stage I once embraced the blank-page stage, when words would somehow always rhyme, but now my brain shows signs of age, and operates on its own time. So now, I dread the clean-slate state since often, the right anapest remains elusive as I wait until my brain...

. Ode to a Christmas Pudding O fragrant orb of dark and luscious depths Made with magic conjured every year By souls who know the spell---those tricky steps That summon plummy culinary cheer, You started as a heap of shriveled fruits Steeped in sticky sherry till imbued With zest of...

. Stars Voluble Profound and lightless silent night _Lay still with curtains closed. Into unspeaking dark the Word Descended from his regal throne And rose from Israel below, _A supernova blaze Encircling music of the spheres. The stars were called to add their light: _Clear voices interposed, “We’re present! Instantly...

. A Present Unclaimed Under the tree is a present unclaimed Paper and ribbon and bows, good to go. Who is it for? “Who it’s from” isn’t named. Where is the tag? No one here seems to know! “Maybe,” Mom says, “There’s a misunderstanding.” “Bet it’s a joke,” says young...

. Make Room, He’ll Come In Have you spent much time wandering, feeling distressed,and upon your arrival, found no place to rest?You can’t possibly know what it’s like till you’ve beenwhere you longed to be but found no room at the Inn. And you know they’d have made room for...

. Santa Claus Has Passed Away As is their custom every year, the Men’s Club promptly after class had half the hallway commandeered and cheerfully began to pass out toys and games as grade by grade the children headed out of school. In former years what always made it fun...

. Love Broke Through Time On the first Christmas night Love broke through time With pain to Mary and her child whose bed Was straw with ox and ass in nearby stalls. Love arrived in suffering and shame. All glory be to God and peace to men! He radiated light...

. A Christmas Eve Sestina “He who sings prays twice.” ---Saint Augustine The vagabond had too much Christmas cheer. He doesn’t notice that the air is cold Although his clothes are unseasonably light. A crowd of carolers comes by to sing Of Good King Wenceslaus, The First Noel. Oh, Sir,...

. Jupiter Hammon’s Christmas Poem by Michael Curtis 1761 was a slow, yet interesting year for poetry. The imposter Macpherson announced the discovery of Ossian’s Gaelic Epic and the collected works of the rotted rake Wilmot, Earl of Rochester was published. Romantic passion was seeded, and creative destruction was soon...

. Home for Christmas Beneath the sinking skies I ride, a traveler on his way,                     .Through drizzling mist and fading light until the end of day.As skies grow dim and gray clouds droop and icy breezes blow,Wrapped in the growing gloom,...

. The Story the Stars are Retelling ---to the tune of 'Sterling' When burdens are heavy and Christmas is near And faraway star luster barely appears, Tomorrow’s prediction of rain with a chill Won’t drown the afflictions that cling to us still. The darkness we see all around through our...

. Dim and Not He carries one white candle in the space Beneath cathedral vaults. He has to hold His hand in front of it so just a trace Of light escapes. The candle’s flame shines gold Yet it is blocked by palm and fingers, so A forward gleam is...

. Be Still and Know . . . Gulls brawl over a chip and squawk. __Waves wash shell shards on sand. On the sea shore, a morning walk. __I wade through tidal strands. Colossal clouds roll overhead. __A pelican glides by. Like sails, its silent wings outspread— __Then rises to...

. Aubade: Composure The first light tints the eggshell walls From dimmest grey to violet, And light-spokes through the window’s shade Glance over eyes asleep as yet. But light is opening within The mind still closeted in sleep, Like the Word creating space from void And a seed troubling the...

. The Lonely Sailor No sailor is so lonely __As one who rows alone Across the vast and battered seas __Along the cliffs of stone. He has no one to read the chart __No one to man the oar No one to keep the tiller straight __And aimed towards the...

. A’sailin’ ‘Twould seem quite true I never was __the captain of this ship, though in my youth I did believe __in charting my own trip. But Master Time has made it clear __how lowly is my rank. I’ve silver locks and aching limbs __and soon I’ll walk the plank....

. Come, Spring When by the winter cold we’re most oppressed, mere thoughts of spring’s arrival make us smile. We dream of earth in vivid colors dressed, blue skies, sunshine, birds trilling tunes with style, and all that lives fulfilling with pure zest the springtime roles, with winter in exile....

. The Wreath Circle of green— What does it mean? Never ending, Ever bending. It’s hope that’s vernal And faith that’s welling For God in-dwelling And life eternal. . Pruning Trees   Now that all the fruit has dropped __And all the leaves have fallen, It’s time to get those branches...

. A House in Winter Preternaturally silent, still.The omnipresent biting chill, And deepest, darkest night surround.The snow’s soft crunch, the only sound; Fierce, unrelenting wind gusts downFrom boreal realms afar, unknown Through naked woods, through night-abyss,To chafe and rouge with icy kiss. Yet winter chills and haunts no moreBehind that...

. A Simple Prayer Crown my head in gray, dear Lord, __And bless my tangled tongue. Return to me the mystery __I knew when I was young. Before the echoed scorn of cynics, __Before the sophist’s sneers Condemned and then converted me __And ground me in the gears Of mundane...

. I Saw An Angel Weeping I saw an angel weeping In the graveyard by the brook, Her silent vigil keeping, Yet when I turned to look, She spread her wings before me To shield me on my way, And thus, did she implore me To remember my dying day....

. The Drift of Dark Days November is a time for us to grieve About the dying of the warmth and light, About the passing of our joie de vivre, As we await the bitter arctic bite. Near-perfect vees of fleeing geese are gone From curdled skies reminding us of...

  In Advent Stillness In Advent stillness and its purpled nightsWe turn within and with a solemn gazeConsider well our soul’s more reconditeAnd sundry impulses: the many waysBy which we hamper grace’s sweet releaseAnd godly intuitions misappraise.Within that holy mood we sense the ceaseOf wayward thoughts, the birth of something...

. Motherly Motives ---of the 5% of American women with 5 or more children The greater good is motherhood. Let wealth be vast and health ideal, These blessings are not understood To be too much. The dear appeal Of children overfills the heart With precious pearls of joy that seal...

. In a Twenty-minute Tuk-tuk Ride That day, the river of our luck had dried. No taxis. Air-conditioned buses crammed with half the town. Just when I said, "We're dammed," a tuk-tuk by the roundabout defied my words. Its backseat, partly occupied by an old couple, still contained enough capacity...

. The Bar ---after Lord Alfred Tennyson's "Crossing the Bar" The sail is set, the breeze is strong. I pray the crossing won’t take long. My Pilot knows these waters well. But time and tide no man can tell. The time ashore has been fulfilled. Frenetic searching soon be stilled....

. I No Longer See It on Mulberry Street I used to walk home from school each day, then report back to Pop, what I saw on my way. I'd imagine all sorts of things wondrous and neat, in my mind, with my brain, on old Mulberry Street. But now...

. Galileo Under Confinement Scene: Florence, 1636 AD. In the third year of his life imprisonment (as sentenced by the Holy Inquisition) Galileo Galilei---now 71---poses at his prison-home for the Flemish painter Justus Sustermans. Signore Artist, may we stop and rest? Remember, I’m not young. Give me your hand. Some...

. Notre Dame Re-Opens To touch this holiness we have no right, Nor did we earn the privilege to restore Its grandeur. Bringing anguished hearts to soar, We purge remembrance of one fiery night. No lives were lost—these living aisles of light May shock our visitors as we adore God’s...

. Variation on a Poem by Blok How hard it is to walk among the living And make like you are not already dead, And speak up apropos of life’s misgiving To generations shrouded out ahead. And, looking straight into your own bad dreams, How hard to find peace in...

. Offerings of the Heart A Symbolic Poem . The songs of Yamato From seeds of healing sprout As offerings of our hearts, And if ever hurt we feel, Swiftly songs arise; Heard by hearts, we heal. For one need not to heal, From voices heard that hurt, Could we...