Written several weeks ago while I was taking some days away at a cabin.
Pine needles scattered
Latticework beneath the trees
Draped on everything
Thoughts on Life, Faith, Stuff that I like
I like to read poetry now and then. It brings some peace and satisfaction to my mind. But I am reluctant to act like a true poetry enthusiast. I am not good at reading or finishing longer, epic poems. Maybe some day I will grow up. But for now, with my short attention span, I enjoy bite size verse. So I found this cheap kindle book of short poems. The poem below is a good example of how to write a beautiful poem about a dark subject. It reminded me that strife in marriage is an old game.
Matthew Prior (1664—1721)
On his death-bed poor Lubin lies:
His spouse is in despair;
With frequent cries, and mutual sighs,
They both express their care.
“A different cause,” says Parson Sly,
“The same effect may give:
Poor Lubin fears that he may die;
His wife, that he may live.”
It was my birthday yesterday. The effect of having so many dozens of friends say happy birthday is wonderful. And so many of these friends are from long ago, and from all over the place… wow. Thanks
So, here is your free gift, a Haiku:
I wrote these after our son unexpected stopped by our home. He attends a nearby university and we hadn’t seen him in a little while (about a week, I know that is not long, but it still feels long when you enjoy your children). Our conversation volleyed back and forth like a good tennis match. These poems are as much about conversation as friendship. Is there really much of a difference?
Between friends after a break
Catching up on life.
Words share life and love
Friends speak of things that moved them
While they were apart.
Stories delight us
Nourishing the souls of friends
Bringing joy to life.
Edited photo used by permission of Kathleen Conklin. Some rights reserved
The power was out at our house for 3-4 hours last night, starting at dusk. Even our cell internet connection was affected. We sat and read together and it was enjoyable. But it was a reminder of how completely dependent we are on technology, and how that even impacts our relationships.
A power outage
Darkness. No lights. No Wi-Fi
Candles lit the room
The power went out
We sat together and read
Ancient people lived
But we forgot how
Without light, dusk brings
An end to the work of Day
Now rest, talk, and sleep
More offerings for your enjoyment. Today is a sunny spring day with still enough cool to make pants enjoyable.
Gentle breezes blow
Small twigs like a metronome
Shadows dance beneath
Even a dry spring
Wakens the blossoms to life
And tunes the bird songs
On a cool spring day
Distant lawn care machines roar
Drowning out the birds.
More amateur poetry offerings. In the last year I have been writing more haiku. Today I am taking a day off and wrestling with the benefits and difficulties of rest when it is both needed and difficult. I am a workaholic and have been learning that rest is a form of both worship and repentance. It is a way to confess that I am not God, and that it doesn’t all depend on me. It is also a way to express my trust that he will take care of “business” while I enjoy some time of restoration. Enjoy.
I love this poem. It is so easy to deceive ourselves. I first read it in high school and it left a deep impression. I have come back to it so many times when looking at favorite poems. And by the way, YOU MUST REVISIT FAVORITE POEMS!
Whenever Richard Cory went down town,
We people on the pavement looked at him:
He was a gentleman from sole to crown,
Clean-favoured and imperially slim.
And he was always quietly arrayed,
And he was always human when he talked;
But still he fluttered pulses when he said,
“Good Morning!” and he glittered when he walked.
And he was rich, yes, richer than a king,
And admirably schooled in every grace:
In fine — we thought that he was everything
To make us wish that we were in his place.
So on we worked and waited for the light,
And went without the meat and cursed the bread,
And Richard Cory, one calm summer night,
Went home and put a bullet in his head.
Edwin Arlington Robinson
.Photo Used by permission Bruce Fingerhood. Some rights reserved