Beauty

Dodgeball "But we have the mind of Christ." 1 Corinthians 2.16 Sometimes my thought-life is a dodgeball game— except that I’m the only one on my side of the line—and when at length I try to launch my views, distracting thoughts take aim at my attention; a barrage of lame...

  This is an abridged version of the original. A reading of the original can be found here. A chilling breeze blew through the trees, which filtered beams of light That danced in play as dying day gave way to shades of night. As in a dream, each golden beam...

  This season’s colours will be brown and gold Fading to sepia, like a photograph. The leaves, still splendid, are already old, Their richness is a kind of aftermath. This, like all seasons, is a time of change. The new awaits, the old must pass away. But this is autumn’s...

A Treble's Song Is there a thing to match a treble’s song? The joy perhaps of spring-time larks in flight, Or how the migrant birds so deftly throng? What of the mane that speaks the lion’s might? The gentle rain that tempers summer’s drought, Or breeze to soothe its heat,...

  The skylight lets the nascent streak Of gold inside this darkened room; Some wisp of scent invades therein, A perfumed faith to counter gloom. Those orbs of light cast patterns old, Of perching birds, of twigs, of leaves; Though most designs appear archaic, Their lasting touch, my heart perceives....

  Here stand I happ’ly on classical grounds, inspired; the voices speak distinctly in enchanted tone from worlds of today and former times expired. Taking counsel, I leaf through beloved elders’ words, I write, eager, and startling pleasures conceive. (But in the nights, distracted by amour I burn.) However, though...

  Irrelevant If the room is the tomb then the elephant is irrelevant.   Haiku From my heart was shown how very much I loved her— could she not have known?   I have found my voice. I do not rejoice—I fear I have lost your ear.   Haiku remind...

Helen Keller (1880-1968) Your eyesight and hearing were gone, yet you felt just as blithe as a fawn ___when you learned that a word ___could stand for a bird or the flowers that bloomed in your lawn. The very first word that you learned was “water.” Thereafter you yearned ___for...

A breeze came out of the North one day, and cried, "September's begun!" A breeze came out of the North one day, declared, "The Summer is done!" by Jack Ahlers You know the fall air—it is somehow clearer than that of dead summer's heat. Sounds take on a different tone...

Writer's Block I feel like I am plodding through cement; My mind is full of cotton batting. Dull, And dense, and empty-headed, thinking spent On trying to find clarity. To mull About within and come up vacant. Try I might but efforts are in vain. My words Seem plastic, or...

Sandprints Yes: Life is pleasure, life is grand, __Life is sweet and fleeting; Alike a stroll upon the sand, __Alike a heart that’s beating In measured pace, step after step, __In meter through our days, We grow, we build, and then we ebb, __And then we wash away. The waves...

The Pain of Foreign Occupation The land lay naked under hobnailed boots Of German occupiers in The Hague. The Blitzkrieg had commenced with parachutes And covered sedate Holland like a plague. That’s how the war began, there in the west; First Rotterdam was savagely destroyed, A terrible example for the...

. . Spoke the Mansion All around be the space of a halcyon day, Some salon where discussion meets wine and croquet; There are salads of crab, on the sun-mottled court For my gracious old neighbor, the stone-crafted fort. . . I Heard the Geese I heard the geese go...

  I. Is curiosity the bane of man As seeking knowledge often leads to woe? Do only fools pass their allotted span Disclosing some things better not to know? Or is pursuit of truth its own reward, Stagnation of the mind the lesser choice? A perspicacious man is never bored,...

  "Progressive" mind accompanies the art Of writing poetry at present time. Great intellectuals from forms depart, And love free verse that spurns meter and rhyme. If poems be composed in such a way That lines consecutive are relevant, They may attract the readers’ snort today Though they convey what...

Keeping the Door Ant hordes scurried in purposeful files; Angry, alert, full to demonic marching: They came in batteries to batter: _____But I kept the door. Worms twisted achingly upwards into wiles Of air and ever coiled most arching On pathways which would be straighter, later; _____But I kept the...

Song of the Crab Nebula in celebration of 50 years after Apollo 11 Long before the first eyes ever saw me __Floating like a ghost upon the night, Long before human minds even feebly __Pierced beyond their dimly shrouded sight, I was there, though clothed in different raiment, __Blazing like...

Of All God’s Living Creatures Of all God’s living creatures only we With subtle artifice create our style Of dress and image, and with painted smile Construct the me we want the world to see. Though what they are is all that they can be, Would any beast consider it...

a villanelle Ye let it flow, the bitter brine, let flow! How long you hold it back, those snowy streams! Don't stop their course, until they touch your toe! Your past congealed as solid misery and present still a volatile daydream! Ye let it flow, the bitter brine, let flow!...

inspired by “The Lady of Shalott” by Tennyson Part I The forests loom at Nottinghamshire. The river oaks still aiming higher, Surround the field where from the byre The cattle trample through the briar ____Down to the surly water. The gristmill stands along the shore As barefoot on the sawdust...

The Moon Festival, also known as the Mid-Autumn Festival, is a traditional holiday that celebrates the Harvest Moon (the full moon nearest the Fall Equinox).    Through Mists of Tears The moon shines sharp through mists of tears, Gas, thick bullets, shields en masse. Socialist police bring fears: A preview...

. Quiet Night Pondering by Li Bai (701-762) A bed before the bright moonlight. Does frost below lie on these halls? I lift my head: the moon is bright. I lower it—my homeland calls! . Original Chinese 靜夜思 李白 床前明月光 疑是地上霜 舉頭望明月 低頭思故鄉 . . Century X Quatrain 74 by...

by T.M. Moore I had just finished teaching one of the adult classes at our church on the meaning of Christmas, using John Milton’s Ode on the Morning of Christ’s Nativity as my text. We examined many aspects of this great poem—themes, development, structure and rhyme scheme, poetic devices, and...

  Today I strolled upon the shore Where Grandad walked in days of yore; Along its sandy, glossy sheen Where once his imprint would have been. And thereupon I did behold ‘Twas here, when I was two years old I dangled from his sturdy hands In gleeful awe of foaming...

Originally published here. ALBUQUERQUE, NM — July 27, 2019 — Sonnet 5, a marriage poem from MacKenzie’s Sonnets for Christ the King, has inspired award-winning producer, composer, and vocalist D.G. Hall to put forth a timeless song in the contemporary pop genre. With its positive vibe, soaring vocal lines, and...

Cape Horn They lifted anchor, spread the sails, __Quit shores where they were born, Bound for spice isles from doubtful tales __By way of far Cape Horn— Rough seamen, fortune-bound, to trade __In gold and peppercorn And woo a grass-clad island maid— __But first to round Cape Horn. They crossed...

Anonymous Diagnosis In ancient China, a sense of propriety did not allow women of high social status, and women in general, to expose any part of their bodies to a male physician. A woman suffering an ailment could only point to an anatomical doll to show the area of the...

https://youtu.be/RFqk98nHuA0      

  Pale would be the water ____Reflecting only skies, Gracing not the splendor ____Of your enchanting eyes. Pale would be the moon ____That only marks its pace And fails to see the boon ____Of your much fairer face. Yet paler is the poet ____Whose words cannot express One word that...

An Open Letter to a Fellow Poet for Adam Sedia But why against one poor poet, a hundred men? —Cyrano de Bergerac (Edmond Rostand) What dreams do come to distress needful sleep, to cause me wakeful to take up my pen and write by Roman candle light of deep portentous...

  Learning Experience The world is filled with rules For making things; and schools Where ziggurats of thought, Erected there, are taught. The language that we use Now hides within a ruse Of passive terms and texts, Protects and disconnects. The work I do is not Perfect and without blot,...

Love Song for a Grapefruit Dear Grapefruit, I of late have been untrue, Seduced by sweet confections of all sorts; My tastebuds languish, and my girth reports Unwanted gain from my neglect of you. The cakes, the cookies left me dull and slow; My sugar-ravaged tongue is all athirst. Now...

I. The Evacuation of St Kilda The remote island community on St Kilda had existed for thousands of years in considerable hardship until, from the 1890s, tourists began to visit in large numbers. The wealth of these visitors introduced the St Kildans to another world far more affluent than theirs...

When our new park enticed me to a walk I saw a dandelion on the trail. Its yellow bloom hung on its broken stalk And it appeared to call me with a wail. Was it a she, or rather she a he? I was bemused: can flowers have a sex?...

  My father woke the day that he __Was in the forest born To find that all gentility __Was from his nature shorn. A base unwilled enchantment laid __That jealous fairy scorned. For in that tale of sleeping maid, __My father was the thorn. His portrait on the cover of...

Haiku   When a newborn cries, locked in a room by itself, does it make a sound?   Fog enshrouds the night. Woven in the heavy mist, a thread of fireflies.     In Time - a Limerick When a beautiful moment transpires, In the midst of the smoke and...

Evening Stroll by P.C. Boutens (1870-1943), written in The Hague in 1909, translated by Leo Zoutewelle We wandered much too late today! __Nearby the final bridge, There where the trail just fades away __We turned back toward our ridge. Behind us rose a whitish fog __Over the dusky lands. In...

  The Moon, torn from the Sun, her only lover, Rose, starry-eyed and weeping beams of light, A mourning widow left to wisp and hover, A torturously pitiable sight, Wan from the strain of sobbing out her eyes, Now crater-like and dark from sleepless grief, Still hoping that the Sun...

After the Rain After the rain, it’s time to walk the field again, near where the river bends. Each year I come to look for what this place will yield— lost things still rising here. The farmer’s plow turns over, without fail, a crop of arrowheads, but where or why...

The Devil at Woodstock I was a mere sixteen that Summer day We all piled in a beat-up car and drove To Woodstock, or someplace we had been told That a great spectacle was to occur— An earth-shaking event where all the stars That lit a generation’s sky would be...