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Ye are God’s as gods -an original poem


           of earth groaned
            for the revelation of the sons
             of the Almighty. For from glory
              fell the first, and by them fell our parents,
               sick by the fruit of a tree, in need of the Antidote.
                Our Physician took flesh for us and slept. This night,
God    is    in
                the manger, resting, revealing Himself upon a tree as food
               for the health of souls, our eternal Elixir of Immortality.
              For He, not fallen, risen has raised our parents
             to the glory of the Almighty,
            as sons of the Most High,
           for deification of

-Ye are God's as gods
an original poem


In Thick Darkness, O Lord, Thou Art Ineffable Light -an original poem

I was washed
And when sprinkled, cleansed.
You removed my heart of stone,
And gave to me a clean heart,
O God. In the flood, the gates
Of Paradise were made open for me.
Below the ark, the old man drowned,
And in Your cross was crucified and died.
When the new man rose, you illumined me.
Now, O Lord, I am in darkness.
I have hardened my heart against you.
And no longer have clean hands or a pure heart.
I have turned my heart against my neighbor,
Refusing to meet his needs. So you have
Visited me. My soul thirsted for the waters
Of Your holy city, but my flesh desires the
Nile. So You have made it blood, for I
Refuse to Commune with You.
You have sent to me a great darkness
And in this darkness, I dwell alone,
Unmoving, in silence. This darkness, my
God, I feel. Yet You have revealed the
Hidden and secret things of Your wisdom:
You dwell in thick darkness.

You shall wash me,
And I shall be whiter than snow.
And in the baptism of my tears, I shall
Be cleansed, for every night I flood my bed.
Only the clean of heart shall truly see You,
And ascend Your holy hill. For Noah
Was blameless and ascended to
Your mountain; and Moses at
Rephidim showed us victory in Your cross.
Teach me to wash my garments
And to ascend into the cloud of darkness.
Wash me thoroughly from my iniquity;
Restore unto me the joy of Your salvation, my health.
You are my helper, for I have set
You before me. Strike the rock
For my sake, and let the earth
Swallow up the Korah of my flesh.
For You have set a table before me.
Transfer me to Your kingdom of light in Goshen,
With the righteous on Your right hand.
Let us wrestle, my God, and let
Me limp. For You have revealed
A great truth: There will be no sun, for
You, O Christ, are our light.

Domenico Fetti - Sleeping Girl

As She Sleeps (Another Preacher’s Wisdom) – an original poem

Oh dear feather, falling so gently,
As wind is faint and the sun is hard.

How did you find me?
And how did you make your way to me to comfort my soul?

For such days are drudgery and pain, full of sorrows
(And such that you may never believe).

For these, my bed, my grave, is my only consolation.
The sun is slow, the moon so quick.

And without aid and alone have I had to fight.
Without a companion, I travel with tears.

To limits I’ve stressed my mind,
And with many labors I toiled in vain.

With no enemies around me and at peace with all
Yet, not a friend I find in my need.

But I sit in peace; silence, my good friend,
And you, dear feather falling, keep me company.

Rest, feather, rest,
For the breeze begins your journey again soon.


-As She Sleeps (Another Preacher’s Wisdom)
an original poem inspired by a woman sleeping during a lecture on Ecclesiastes.

A reflection on reputation. -an original poem

Could you know the force you have –
And how, upon my mind,
You were impressed upon me,
Before a word was spoken –
To move this soul to tears when but
Your name is mentioned.
Does a waterfall know the strength of its tumbling?
Or the infant its power to soften a heart?
To hear rumors of your compassion,
And the love you share with God for your siblings, prevent me from forgetting you.
May I be forgotten forever,
Save in your prayers.

Of Memories Hard to Forget -an original poem

I saw a picture of a place
That seemed as though it were familiar.
Perhaps it was the setting sun
In the scene that stirred the mem’ry
Of the woods behind a house I once shelled
Peas. It was not in my nature
To care for the wonder and/or
beauty of nature. I never did know
Why anyone would bother with
It. But I loved her, and she loved
It. This picture stirs a memory of
A place, but it is not that same place.

When You Love an Angel -an original poem

Today I saw an angel in her heavenly array.
In the glory of her face all the others fade away.

I saw her force a smile, push despair out of her eyes,
And then I saw a joy, a peace, that made her want to cry.

But it wasn’t me or mine that had a part to play,
‘Cept simply be around for her to say “Good day.”

What humbling so needful now, so painfully applied
For in your eyes, my love, I see
There’s no one in your eye.

The Mistress of My Dreams (I Condemn Myself) -an original poem

Peacefully I sleep and rest until she comes again,
(She always manages to.)
To disturb the peace I’ve cultivated
In the life I’ve separated from the acts of my past.
The guilt of my deeds haunts me
When she comes to serve notice.
“Have you come again, my dear mistress
To haunt and disturb?”
Yet this dove of innocence and love
Remains unmoved by my interrogation:
In stillness I do quake:
“Oh, Siren of my dreams, will there ever come a day when I am no longer in your service?”
A leaflet (the sentence of days gone by), old and dry,
With many bends and creases, tears and burns, falls gracefully upon me
As I lay resting (unrested) upon my bed:
“For corruption of innocence: 5 years.
For running: 5 years.”
And I weep,
Weep the tears of unsaving sorrow,
Dejection I only knew when I left her.
“Leave me be, sweet lady, my love.
I have moved on to be disturbed no more by my vow,
My hope against hope.
Five years I gave you, and five promised
Keep me bound in despair.
Release me from my oath
And we both may enjoy peace!

Dear Mother, will I ever be free or
Must I from night to night see this pure
And innocent face marred from the scars of my own hands?
Will your daughter ever be free from my memory
Or I from my guilt?”
My decade is not yet over.
My vow to love and to hurt remains.

And Then We Sang -An Original Poem


The start of May without the rain,
A Paschal day when children play,
Across the grass we took our rest
Feasting as God’s children, blest.
I met her there and learned her name,
“Christ is risen” in May we sang.

In time to pass we shared a meal,
All my old wounds had then been healed,
And in her hands I put my heart
And in a moment set apart
Her for me, and loved her name.
Together we were, and then we sang.

A sacrament, a mystery,
A sacred bond in which to be
Eternally wound up in love
And searching out the Father’s Dove,
Here in time she took my name,
Bound as one flesh. And then we sang.

Self-sacrifice, self-emptying,
A larger family meant to be
A cross, a joy. We work as one
Until a crown for us is won.
And when grandchildren had been named
One voice with all, indeed we sang.

And in that time which comes to pass,
God’s glory fully here at last.
True love rewarded with radiant bliss
Those gone before never more to miss,
Those who bear God’s holy name,
We all forever sang and sang.

A Curious Taste of Old – An Original Poem


Now there’s a taste I done forgot.
Might be ice cream or chocolot,
Or cookies and cream. Peanut butter?
Oh I know! It’s Nutter Butter!

Oh wait, no. I have another!
For sure it is not peanut butter.
Maybe Queen Anne’s chocolate cherries
Or even ranch dipped grapes or berries.

To find my taste may take a miracle.
Perhaps I simply want some cereal.
Oh I wish I could recall
Of that taste I had one Fall.

What if it’s OJ with some bacon?
That’s not how my breakfast’s taken,
No. A seasonal egg with cream?
This is all some awful dream.

It’s been an hour, and yet no luck.
At this point I may just eat a truck.
Oh wait! I know! A memory of old,
When I was a kid and was very bold!

Without a doubt it must be pudding
Of chocolate in a queer viewing:
Amid the toppings within a bun:
A burger with cheese, yes that’s the one!