Topic: “poetry”

The way the world ends

This is the way the world ends:
with a woman’s pain and a squalling child
the old world dying and the new world rushing in
like the newborn’s head forcing its way in pain from

A Big Bang of agony and delight
to start a life of sorrow,
to end in death,
to inaugurate forever joy,
to end in life with the end of ending lives.

The end of the world comes with a bang, a whimper,
a cry muffled by sheep-sound and mother’s breast
the groaning of the earth as she whirls under the silent,
shouting stars and the assembled host of heaven,
waiting to be born

Spring forest after rain

…and as the drenching downpour faded into barely-more-than mist, the clouds began to let shine through a springtime sun—and though still gray the sky (if mottled, now and then, with blue), the leavèd trees all round flamed brighter in their verdancy than any I have ever seen…

The first line would be set on the ragged right edge of the text to mark its rhythmic position, were that possible.

I nearly wept

I nearly wept: my daughter could not understand why her body ached, rebelled, suffered from the stain of sin in sickness form – sin she’s yet to will – and my sorrow ran deeper than song: she has entered now into the pangs that make us hunger for eternity resurrection re-Incarnation Read on, intrepid explorer →

No poetry tonight

I sat with pen And sweetly swelling strains of strings, Poetry to write – Alas, my sleeping girl-child woke; There’ll be no poetry tonight.

harvest face

A single dark arc cuts across A harvest face, oranged by thick atmosphere ‘tween it and me, hung low and solid in the east, its face turned partly away to face its bright lord.

A patchwork quilt of / Farms: circle-tangent squares for / Half a thousand miles

Moon shadows dapple

Moon shadows dapple the asphalt
As it rolls away beneath my feet
Outdone now and again by lamplight
Till golden shadows give way again
To silver glimmerings through tree-limbs