Beauty

. 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...

. After the Snow The snow fell through the night, night-long, The deepest snowfall of the year. By dawn it covered everything, Pearl gray unfolding everywhere As light leaked inward from beyond Through curtained distances of gauze. Since there was hardly any wind Snow-feathers fell straight down in bars, White,...

. On the Death of a Child To lose a child is tragic, yet those winks to tenderness, to bonding, still exist as memories, creating lasting links twixt parent and the prematurely missed. The day of birth; the constant nightly bawl; the downy smell of innocence; the cry for mother’s...

. Meditation 1 “Grace has drawn nigh to mouths, once blasphemous, and has made them harps; sounding praise.” ---Homily on Our Lord, (1) "Let your speech always be with grace." ---Colossians 4.6 Grace wields transforming power. Not even speech is free from its effects. Diffusing from a sin-cleansed soul, renewing...

. Roofless Church The stone-hewn walls, No window sash. No pews, no halls. Burnt logs, damp ash. The roof, vanished. No organ flues. Shaped block, granite, And endless view. Above, hawks soar. No bells to chime. No wooden floors. The rasp of time. No stained-glass panes. A Celtic cross. Stony...

. "It Just So Happens" Dark creatures prowl the islands of the mind On silent paw, as panthers in the night; Two em'rald eyes, and shadow intertwine To weave a myst'ry with the curved moon's light. We sail our craft across this vast expanse Of island-speckled seas, in search of...

. Speak Loud God's Praise ---to the tune of Ellacombe ("I Sing the Mighty Power of God") Speak loud the praise of God most high!__Give thanks for He is good!Let those who know His power to save__Be first to speak the word.God’s power is seen in ocean depths.__The surging waters...

. Ode to the Dogs Puppy to playmate they bring us much joy whether sleeping or hunting for favorite toys. Mischief abounds while they teethe and make noise as we patiently groom their behavioral ploys. Rapid maturity seven-to-one amidst training and gaining of loyalty won with sincere admiration and mutual...

. Samhain Behind the turning leaves a red-breast peeks,In light dim-lit by mists on Samhain dawn;The earth is churned by drumming, grubbing beaks,Before the frosts are hard and food is worn.In orange landscapes washed in autumn rain,Hang soggy gloves that dance on windy lines.Soft bobbing fruits are tricks and treats...

. Underfoot Fescue and clover: A luxuriant carpet Fit for a king’s feet. . . Murder They take noisy flight, Leaving the harvest’s stubble To hungry field mice. The crows will not make a sound When they return for the mice. . . Hunger _Silent and stately, The prince of...

. Contemplative Days A sky of dim and pale display __Brings forth late autumn calm. "A restful peace," it seems to say; __My soul receives the balm. The faded leaves of golden tint __Which cover thick the ground Disguise a path with subtle hint __Of hibernation mound. A tepid sun...

. Smile “Nothing you wear is more important than your smile.” ---Connie Stevens I didn’t weigh your sway and worth__Until you left my faceDevoid of joy and minus mirth.__You left without a traceOf warmth and light---no hint of brightAnd beautiful---no shining sight__Imbued with rays of graceTo melt the mournful corners ofThe...

. Melancholy Hues (of Autumn) ---an ode The third of four trimesters of the yearsees summer flag. The mercury recedesand chilly grey replaces skies once clear,while on Earth’s tilted axis, Autumn feeds. From bole and trunk arboreal poisons coursethrough branches, twigs and into verdant leaves,which, tainted, turn to russet, red...

. Truth Streaked Across the Sky Truth streaked across the skyAlighting on a foreign strand,Where politicians buried itBeneath the lying sand. The truth was stranger than the lies,Too dazzling for the mind.The leaders meant for it to dieIn the land of the half-blind. With gradual revealing tides,Truth showed as life...

. Diners For single men alone, what impulse spurs us To find them everywhere? –the burned-out lights, the squat brick block, so many times repurposed, the worn, clichéd inside, lit over-bright: Plump rows of sticky pseudo-leather booths, And dusty ferns suspended from the ceiling. The waitress looms like Venus, sturdy...

. Raking Leaves The blaze of autumn's orange-gold is gone, And now it's time to rake the fallen leaves, __To clear the cluttered eaves, __And face a colder dawn. Those piles and piles of crispy, mottled leaves Become as chaff between my sieve-like hands __And whirl in changing winds. __I...

. Solid Rock With open heart, but eyes shut tight, led by our feelings, not by sight, they are the rock upon which we once built the fantasy that the foundation that we engineered inside our mind as thoughts appeared, perhaps inspired but likely not, still we approved the plan...

. First Pick Flamingo They used to call this player the flamingo; They chaffed and mocked; they were full of bravado. ‘Cause he’s the new kid, they didn’t know his skills He missed three practice shots, so he was grilled. A weird name to deride his faultless form. The children...

. A Brief Respite From murky depths, I rise, by duty fetched,And breaking surface in the waking world,I find my horizontal self outstretched,Exposed to view, like some old map unfurled. Upon this couch, I sink with gentle sighsInto its softness, briefly now set freeFrom stresses, like a caravel that liesHalf-buried...

. Beryl Spring ---Yellowstone National Park Towering torrents of steam and mist Rise next to the side of the road, Beckoning drivers to park and trudge toward a cloud. Roars like the noise of jet engines persist, Crescendo their clangorous mode; Vents firing volleys embark on cannonades loud. Beryl Spring...

. The Garden Dense boughs and variegated blooms __That once festooned a garden Are dying as November births __Pellucid forms that harden On them, my attic's roof, and grass. Now every morning when I pass __This place, once deeply green, A stark, white blandness greets my eyes; __No colour's to...

. A Recruiter Tells It as It Isn’t Your World War One recruitment agent prays he finds you well. Your King and Country says we need you for a dalliance in France. In gay Paris, you’ll get to chat and dance with mademoiselles before you reach the Front. With pals,...