Communion

I cannot fathom the idea of sinlessness –
my life is permeated with sin
Thoughts go astray that I do not rein in
I take actions that I shouldn’t
(and don’t take actions that I should)

Even the good that I do is
too often sullied by a
desire for praise
or a sense of self-righteousness

I am like a land
blanketed in thick smog
for the last thousand years
where no eye has seen
the blue of the sky
nor can they imagine it

so how can I fathom
that the one who was sinless
would wear as a cloak
all my filth
so that I
can truly be clean?

my heart cannot hold
the amount of thanksgiving
that is owed to my Saviour
for his gift
his unimaginable gift
his indescribable gift
his unfathomable sacrifice

for what kind of sense does it make
for the whole to be shattered
to mend the fragmented?
and yet somehow
that’s exactly what happened!

The Challenge of Art

as a poet I’ve discovered
that the beauty an artist intends
is never quite transferred
from mind to completed project
Beethoven’s Sixth Symphony
in all its glory is merely a glimmer
of what was in his mind.
Van Gogh’s Starry Night
while stunning
cannot compare
to the splendour
of the loops and swirls
that he saw in his mind
before he picked up his brush
and I so often
strive for words
that will stun the reader
with their beauty
but must finely settle
for something
so much less
even this poem
does not really say
what I wish it to.

 

Ostracon

you, like me, know the name
of the one who is causing you
the most grief, the one
who is fragmenting your soul

I, like you, hope that my name
is not the one thought of
by too many people when they think
of who is fragmenting them

but that is the way of it
isn’t it?
that we would be willing
to cast another aside
but would not, ourselves,
be thus cast?

for what use
is a clay jar
after it has been
hurled against stone?

~~

for dVerse OLN

Ten Thoughts On Sin

I.

a small stone
does not merely impact
the water where it strikes
but creates ripples
felt for
a great distance around

II.
you can stab
and slash
more deeply
with actions
than with knives

III.
I once bought some strawberries
and noticed that there was mold on one
I decided to deal with it later, but
before long they were all ruined

IV.
Your garden may seem pristine
but don’t drop your guard
or it will soon be
over-run with weeds

V.
looking tasty
does not prevent a poison
from being a poison

VI.
I wondered:
would the bear trap be sprung
if I stepped on it.
It was.

VII.
a man made a statue of himself
so that everyone would see
how great he was
soon the pigeons came
and covered the statue in filth
and then what everyone saw
was much closer to the truth

VIII.
the room looks empty
when the lights are on
but only because
the rats are hiding

IX.
a hornet seems small
until it stings

X.
There is only One
who can wash me clean
but first I must admit
that I am not

~~

sharing with NaPoWriMo

Fallow

Does the earth have need of us
to tend and till her? Does she
have need of us to plant and
water her? Leave her fallow
for a time and see.

At first perhaps, only weeds
will appear. Look closer.
Are they weeds, or merely
plants that are not of
immediate use to you?

Leave it long enough
and observe the beauty
of wild-flowers, and
eventually enjoy the
shade of trees

Leave her fallow for a time
and see her become a
refuge for birds, foxes, deer
and soon enough you will see

The earth does not need
or tilling and tending
but she willingly allows
us to do so for our
sustenance and even
for our pleasure

~~

Georgic for NaPoWriMo .  Happy Earth Day!

Life as an Elevator

Whoosh Whoosh

“…pose you heard the one
about the rattle snake
who had a nasty fear
of a garden gnome?
it turns out that he…”

whoosh whoosh

“…and so I said honey
if you ain’t go the cash
right now,
then I ain’t…

whoosh whoosh

“…eggs and bread
and cheese and salt
do you need anyth….

whoosh whoosh

sometimes exciting
and sometimes mundane
the snippets I hear
nearly drive me insane
I hope that I’ll learn
the rest of the tale later
but that’s not my fate
for I’m an elevator.

~~

written for NaPoWriMo – the prompt today is to write poetry based on overheard snippets of conversation

Grocery Poems – Aisle 3

018

the yellow rubber chicken
waits patiently by the blue raspberry Kool Aid
for the boy in the red over-alls
to discover her in Aisle 3

IMG_0230[1]

~~

this poem is being shared at dVerse for Open Link Night with apologies to William Carlos Williams

note:  all images in my “Grocery Poems” are taken at a local grocery store.  I have not re-arranged any product, but have taken the pictures as I have found the product.