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Posted on 01/02/2006 7:52:08 AM PST by Soaring Feather
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Morning Queenie!
Got any poems today about slackers?
*HUGS*
Hope all is well!
*HUGS*
All is well, cold here.
No slacker pomes yet
my slacker ways make me forget
that poetry is my forte
but, I may do it another day!
....hehehehehe..
Good grief! You did that in what?? 2 seconds?
You need some chocolate for inspiration huh?
I wish I were that capable. Back to my slacker ways!!
*HUGS*
Spring is springing,
warm is the air
my asthma's fading
to I don't know where,
and I am as silly
as a blue carebear.
(I've been dealing with cold weather induced asthma lately.)
And now for a real poem:
Sunrise
As he drew near to Jericho, a blind man was sitting by the roadside begging; and hearing a multitude going by, he inquired what this meant. They told him, "Jesus of Nazareth is passing by."
And he cried, "Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me!" And those who were in front rebuked him, telling him to be silent; but he cried out all the more, "Son of David, have mercy on me!"
And Jesus stopped, and commanded him to be brought to him; and when he came near, he asked him, "What do you want me to do for you?" He said, "Lord, let me receive my sight."
And Jesus said to him, "Receive your sight; your faith has made you well."
And immediately he received his sight and followed him, glorifying God; and all the people, when they saw it, gave praise to God.
Luke 18:35-43
The road was dusty, that day, as usual.
He could taste the dust in the air,
the sun on his back,
smell the touch of spring in the air,
and his his darkness,
anticipation.
He could hear the crowd gather near his usual place.
ignoring him, wrapped in darkness,
abuzz with talk about the teacher,
waiting for something different to do,
waiting, perhaps,
to fan the flame of hope,
to warm themselves by his fire,
this holy man,
this wonder,
this healer,
teacher.
As the teacher drew near,
who had the kindness
to describe what was happening,
to feed that hope,
to help him to the right spot?
"Jesus, son of David, have pity on me!"
he cried as that hope burst into a roaring flame.
Others were not so kind,
pushing this useless beggar out of the way.
But the wildfire of his hope would not be silenced.
"Jesus, son of David, mercy!"
his voice rang out
as thrusts and pushes taunted his darkness.
A hush,
and the unkind hands fell away.
A kindly hand took his.
"Come, the master wants you," a kind voice said,
and led him through the darkness,
his heart beating like a drum,
the rocks crunching under his feet.
He could feel those eyes upon him,
he with no sight,
could taste the kindness of that smile.
"What do you want, friend? What can I do?"
"Lord, let me see!"
And in that moment, sunrise.
Lord, heal us
from our own blindnesses,
the darkness of our own willfulness,
and may we, too be brave enough to cry,
Lord, let me see!
and find in you our light.
Amen.
Wonderful work.
Your images are so vivid.
Thank You.
Ah, the aches and pains
are enough to send me
to the land of counterpane
Robert Louis Stevenson
a poet I learned to love
as a child
The Land of Counterpane
Something like this (from memory)
"When I was sick and laid abed
with two pillows at my head..."
Oh, dear I had better stop here
my memories faded o'er the years,
but I remember well the graphic
in the book....
17. The Land of Counterpane
WHEN I was sick and lay a-bed,
I had two pillows at my head,
And all my toys beside me lay
To keep me happy all the day.
And sometimes for an hour or so 5
I watched my leaden soldiers go,
With different uniforms and drills,
Among the bed-clothes, through the hills;
And sometimes sent my ships in fleets
All up and down among the sheets; 10
Or brought my trees and houses out,
And planted cities all about.
I was the giant great and still
That sits upon the pillow-hill,
And sees before him, dale and plain, 15
The pleasant land of counterpane.
My Uncle bought that book for me.
He introduced me to another world.
Good day, ms feather, happy Friday.
Good morning to you Kathy.
Thank You, for Blessed Assurance.
Off to celebrate Nancy's Birthday, so will be back on Saturday to play here. Package off to you, Caribbean Poems and a strange guide to life, the book of 'Wrong Shui' the ancient art of finding your way through life that makes Funky Sway seem logical!
;^)
Okay, sorry I missed you.
I'll be looking for the mail, one headed out to you, also.
Happy Birthday to Nan.
I wrote this in 2003, but I think I am going to work it over, because my image of + Peter's motivation has grown:
Peter in the Courtyard
A nightmare night,
a night of shadows,
he sat there by the fire,
cold,
alone,
afraid,
yet drawn to this place of danger
by a desperate desire to do something.
The darkness of his soul
how it matched the darkness of the night
as he sat by the fire
not listening to the jibes
of those who sat near him.
He stared into the fire
and waited.
His world falling apart,
he thought there was nothing left but fear.
"No, I don't know him," he said,
the words escaping his lips
in an unstoppable reflex
of self preservation.
Fear and anger and anguish,
the darkness of the night,
the pain of waiting,
"No, you are mistaken!"
he chokes on the words, perhaps,
torn in two.
The third time with curses,
and then he sees
the eyes that know,
the eyes so tired, so sad,
the eyes touch his
with loving forgivness
and his soul plunges into the final darkness
as the cock crows.
Wow this is chilling, the way you have captured the thoughts and feelings of Peter.
Very good as it is, but you're the poet.
bump
This a truly moving poem, I can think of no truly lonelier man than Peter as the cock crowed!
Hey you how goes it?
You up to writing a line or two??
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