Poems

Near

Can you hear Him ?
Wafer cracks, reminiscent
of torn veil-divisions;
through Body broken
portions pieces
making us, stars, God, a whole
Can you smell Him ?
Scent stirring air
as Communion cup breathes
through gentle morning breeze
Fragrance
more pungent than lilacs
Can you taste Him ?
Mingled grain and grape
past palate are pressed
Blood and Presence
sadly sweet
between teeth and tongue
Can you see Him ?
With open eyes look to
once fellow dinner guests
now silent together takers
bearing an
inward Image unmistakable.
Can you feel Him ?
Extend healing hands
dare to hold other’s
heart-deep wounds and
Scars
honoring His by compassion.
Behold Him !
Sentient Son of God
Divinity in constant Incarnation:
A Sound—, a whiff—, a sip—,
a glance—, a touch—,
Near.

poem index

Song of the Harlot
( A Song by The Violet Burning : Luke 8:36 )

One Night the harlot moves across the floor
She turns the handle on the door
A hundred eyes seem to look right through her
And why she’s there their not sure
Behind her love she falls down to her knees
And without a word she begins to weep
And her tears, they fall down upon His feet
And she smothers them with kisses
And she dries them with her hair
My life, sorrows kiss my lonely heart
Fear of man tears me apart
And I’ve tried, but many times I’ve loved the world
So many times I’ve been the whore
And I’ve cried a million tears of a whore
So many times I have been the whore
I will fall down on my knees
And I will sing ‘I Love You Lord’
I will sing ‘I Love You Lord’
And my tears, they fall down upon your feet
Let me smother them with kisses
Let me dry them with my hair
‘Cause if I could be anyone at all
Oh if I could be any one at all
Let me be the whore at your feet
The whore at your feet

poem index

Ozymandias

I met a traveler from an antique land
Who said : "Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
Stand in the desert. Near them, on the sand,
Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown,
And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command,
Tell that its sculptor well those passions read
Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,
The hand that mocked them and the heart that fed.
And on the pedestal these words appear:
‘My name is Ozymandias, king of kings:
Look on my works, ye mighty, and despair!’
Nothing besides remains. Round the decay
Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare
The lone and level sands stretch far away."

—— Percy Bysshe Shelly ——

Poem Index

God’s Grandeur

The world is charged with the grandeur of God.
It will flame out, like shining from shook foil;
It gathers to a greatness, like the ooze of oil
Crushed. Why do men then now not reck his rod?
Generations have trod, have trod, have trod;
And all is seared with trade; bleared, smeared with toil;
And wears man’s smudge and shares man’s smell: the soil
Is bare now, nor can foot tell, being shod.
And for all this, nature is never spent;
There lives the dearest freshness deep down things;
And though the last lights off the black West went
Oh, morning, at the brown brink eastward, springs—
Because the Holy Ghost over the bent
World broods with warm breast and ah! bright wings.

—Gerard Manley Hopkins—

Poem Index

Ruins of Salvation

Beneath the smoldering ruins lie,
A crown of thorns that bid thee die
A whim of courage, though courage be dead
I kneel before it, placing it on my head
At first there’s pain, yet it will go;
Or am I wrong and will it grow?
And if it does, will I not flinch
Or stand my ground, not render an inch?
Here they come, shrilling through the air
Flurries of doubt, depression and despair
My Last drop of strength I use to kneel
With a flash of calm, a silent peel
Of thunder crashes to reveal
Set in stone my faith; my shield.

— Jonathan David Rue —

Poem Index

Resurrection

Why did you pause and fold the cloth?
I would have bolted for eternity
Leaving behind tombs and wombs
All dark places for endless light
What thought you at that moment?
Pausing on the cusp, the threshold, the rim
almost spilling over but not quite
As your rough hands smoothed
creases, coaxed corners
(the way your mother taught you)
The snake leaves behind his skin
desiccated, in the desert, like
Time: Marching footless forward
in measurable moments
perpetual progress
Devoid of sentiment, and former things forgotten
Jesus, you are not so careless
nor eschew ordinary order
Our cause was not so common
To be left with mere carnal chaos
Nor a linen shroud rumpled
Memories, matter and method meet in you
Even at that imperceptible circle point
When reverent remembrance
ushers in
Resurrection —

Sarah B. Wheeler

Poem Index

Daddy

Peace swept over me,
Like a long awaited rain;
And my heart began to ache
At so much love.
My eyes, I closed in shame
And tears spilled down
My cheeks;
I collapsed to my knees
Before the throne of my King.
He breathed in deeply,
And I winced at the thought
of what He might do.
He reached down and
cupped my face in His hands,
And titled my head so
I no longer looked down —
But was looking into
His eyes.
He looked deep into
My soul,
And told Me, with out
Speaking, more than I
could comprehend.
He took my hands into
His own,
And My eyes fell upon
two scars on His wrists.
Like a house of cards,
I crumbled to the floor.
I found no strength left
in my body,
And my heart searched for
some song of praise
to sing ...
some words to express
a deep, unknown feeling,
But all I could do —
was weep.
Apologies and Regrets
Raced through my thoughts,
And just as if He had
Read my mind....
He Spoke.
Not Convictions ...
Not Guilt Trips ...
Not Sermons ...
But, He spoke out of
Love ...
He spoke, the desire
of His heart.
I lifted my eyes and
saw that He was
crying,
Each tear conveying
a love deeper
than I understood.
He simply said,
"Let Me be your Daddy.
Let Me love you.
Trust in Me and you
Will never be alone
I would never, never,
Leave you."
And at that moment,
Everything fell into Place.
I found what I had been
searching for, all along.
I abandoned all doubts.
All fears. All questions ...
And I ran to Him.
I ran to His open arms,
And fell into His embrace.
"I have found my soul’s
desire. You, are what
I was longing for," I
Cried
"My Abba, how I love
You."
And with that, a smile
spread across His face
And He kissed my forehead.
"I love you Daddy. Stay
Close to me. Thank you
for the lullaby," I
Whispered."
And He rocked me to
Sleep,
And gave to me,
The sweetest dreams.

--- Katie May Peterson

Poem Index

You

You have never let me down
Your love will never run out.
They claim to always be there,
To always understand and care,
But what they claim has been untrue,
Everyone and everything left me, all but You.
It took me a long time to see the light
But now I trust in You and Your might.
So many things have gotten in my way,
and, I have a need to change.
I cannot do this without you,
For you are the one I will conform to.
I am here for you to take.
So do Your part and Make.

— by Jessica Glaeser —

Poem Index

Would I

( Jonathan Rue)

Would I lay down my life
For the one killing me
Would I sacrifice it all
For a friend in need
Would I stand firm to the very end
Through trials and tests in brokenness
Would I look Pain right in the eye
Would I stand firm and die
Would I empty myself
And be clothed in suffering
Would I still obey,
Would I still believe
Would I get down on my knees
And cry out to be released
And if this cup won’t pass from me
Would I be faithful unto the end
I’ll stand firm to the very end
Through trials and tests in Brokeness
I’ll look pain right in the eye
And I’ll stand firm and die
Yea I’ll get down onto my knees
And cry out to be released

Poem Index

Go Slowly

If you want your dreams to be
Build it slow and surely.
Small beginnings, greater ends
Heartfelt work grows purely.
If you want to live life free,
Take your time, go slowly.
Do few things, but do them well.
Simple joys are holy.
Day by day, stone by stone,
Build your secret slowly.
Day by day, you’ll grow too,
You’ll know Heavens Glory.
If you want your dreams to be,
Build it slow and surely.
Small beginnings, greater ends
Heartfelt works grows purely.
If you want to live life free,
Take your time . . .
Go slowly.
—- St. Francis of Assisi —-
( From the movie Brother, Son, Sister, Moon.)

Poem Index

The Song Of The Man of Heaven

I see a man of shinning gold, gloriously dressed in simple linen, yet bowed low, touching his face to the floor, his kneeling form chained by a thousand iron chains. He is in a dark & dank dungeon. Acrid odors and pungent waste assault this sense of smell. Soreness and inflamed joints fill his body; despair and depression trap his mind behind prison doors. Confusion and resentment bind all his thoughts. Alone and yet angry he remains.

Suddenly the Sword of the Lord appears, looking like a hundred knife blades slicing through the air and flashing reflected light. Though his head is bowed, yet he perceives this. As the blade, or is it blades, pass by him there is pain, real pain, and yet as the moments pass he finds that for the first time the chains binding his head, neck and back are loosed. He lifts his head and back with a groan of relief at his new movement. Looking up he discovers star and moonlight where he anticipated a ceiling. The beauty of heaven!

Time passes and the man moves in his new freedom, yet he still is forced to kneel in the bath of sewage and waste that clings to the dungeon floor. Yet he begins to praise heaven for it’s beauty and he refuses to be absorbed by the corruption around him; that enslaves him. The man’s beauty and strength are seen more clearly by heavens light. With the raising of his own eyes he has seen himself more rightly and the despair and resentment begin to dissolve like a mist. In time, he sings, trying to echo heaven’s call. Yearning grows in him to be closer, He wants to be free of the dead weights of anger, bitterness and self-pity. He rejects them for Heaven.

Again the Sword of the Lord appears flying towards him, again appearing as a hundred knife points approaching him. He is afraid of the pain and yet he knows the freedom it brings. He senses that he can refuse; that he can choose to remain in the isolated, bile-like surroundings or submit to the Sword of the Lord. Again there is pain — he cries aloud, surprised at the sound of his own voice that revealed the silence that cloaked him. Yet, once again, as he waits for the pain to pass, as he continues to hope for Heaven, he finds that chains binding his waist & legs removed. He is free to stand, and yet that is new and uncertain! The sewage is dark and putrid, but it is also familiar & warm. A pulse of light from Heaven momentarily beckons him and he

yearns, once again, for glory. Unsteadily, shaking and even falling several times, he finally rises on untrustworthy legs. Yet he rises! It is different than the slime. There is more to see and therefore more to be responsible for, yet it is better than below. Though his hands are still chained to the floor he honors Heaven with his face upturned and body standing. He sings and cries and calls to heaven in response to glory. He jumps and almost dances as much as possible, using his freed legs. Oh, he wants to lift hands to Heaven, but he will use what he has free, for now. The pain and lack of use in his legs are overcome by the exercise & stretching. He even feels more like a man now, his golden skin and beaming eyes reflect energy and joy. He again experiences the confusion and despair recede as he purposefully rejects them and the multitude of things they tell him. Lies! Vile lies! In the darkness around him, his new height reveals many others kneeling in the muck and mire at various distances, thought there are a few who also are standing. He calls to them; only the ones standing can hear and reply in the Song of Heaven. The kneeling forms seem unable to perceive him. Yet the standing ones encourage one another, singing of Heaven’s joy and hope. They also encourage the kneeling ones, though they themselves do not perceive it. The Bride of Heaven, all of them, calling one to another and then in unison cast their hearts upward to the Lord of Heaven. Looking together they yearn and grow.

Again time passes for the man and again the Sword of the Lord appears. He now knows the Lord’s discipline and tests, painful though they be. Yet, he also knows the ties to the darkness, his fellowship with corruption, must be cut. Again and again he yields and surrenders to the Sword. Stinging pain occurs and recedes. The sound of the floor receiving heavy chains echoes in the dungeon. Lifting hands he blesses the Lord of Heaven and singing, he walks freely to go and sing to others who have not heard as much of the Song as he. "Soon," he says, "and we will all be free to soar into the Heavens, out of this dungeon!"

—- Dedicated to all of my friends, younger brothers & sisters of JC’s, DVY & God Rock.

Thank You, . . . so much,
you may not fully realize what you have given me !
As my mom always says,. . . .
"I love you more than you could know"
Your Friend, . . . Chris Sarris . . . PEACE !