Tag Archives: poetry

The Advent Of What?

Advent has come.

 

But the Advent of what?

Sharp clanging sleigh bells and presents wrapped so bright they could cut?

Of smiles painted like plasterĀ  over hearts that wait in darkness?

 

The Advent of what?

Pressure that wraps like snakes

And drowns each one in gilt and dross?

 

The Advent of what?

Of whitewashed hope?

Of optimism as see-through as cellophane?

Of solitary, desperate cheer?

 

Why not wait for a different Advent?

One so poor it lies in straw

One so dirty that shepherds share it

One so unlovely that the unlovable can wait for it

 

Why not wait for a different Advent?

For faithfulness that always persists

For hope that springs from dry places

For love that grows green things in grey spaces.

Poetry Mondays – Prayers Contract

My prayers:

Once piled carelessly

Like children’s blocks on the carpet

Stacking my words to heaven.

Godwouldyoupleasehelpmetodaybecauseiwanttodothebesticanandfollowyouandmakesurethatiaskyoufortheright thingsinalltherightwayswiththewordsjesuslovetrustforgivenessandarethereanyi’mforgetting

Slowly they contract.

God, help me follow you today and do the best I can, and hear me as I pray, although I still don’t know what to say and what I might forget.

God help me follow you and hear me as I pray, I don’t know what to say.

God help me follow you and hear me.

God help me follow you.

God help me.

God help.

God.

.

Poetry Mondays – I Cannot Offer You My Wisdom

I cannot offer you my wisdom:

Bullets shooting

To turn ignorance into red dust.

 

I cannot offer you my success:

Bands marching

To the beat of my drummer.

 

I cannot offer you my wit:

Night club singer crooning

To make you laugh and blush.

 

I cannot offer you my strength:

Adonis in a mirror

To catch your hurried glance.

 

I can offer you my foolishness:

Drunkard stumbling

Too early in the day.

 

I can offer you my failure:

Left feet tripping

Too clumsy to stand.

 

I can offer you my stuttering:

Gears grinding

Too jagged to glide.

 

I can offer you my weakness:

Broken and straining

Too small to be Atlas.

 

Will you accept?

Poetry Mondays – The Ringing Phone

The phone it rings,

Again I say,

Please hang up!

Please go away!

 
 
No, I’m afraid

I’m not at home

Just leave a message

At the tone!

 
 
Don’t call back

And simply trust

That I’ll respond

When I must.

 
 
There are others,

You should see

That need me more

Than you need more.

 
 
Not a war?

Not an attack?

Can’t it just wait

‘Til I get back?

 
 
My phone rings once,

Two, three, four, five

Are you scared

I’m not alive?

 
 
So just wait,

My dear goodwife,

Please hang up,

And get a life!

Poetry Mondays – Faith is Not

Faith is not belief

That echoes hollow

Cold statements

in stone spaces.

Faith is not belief

That cocoons

A cloak

From pain and failure.

Faith is not belief

That swings

Like a sword

On other’s blindness.

Faith is a seed

That grows or dies

In dark, fertile places.

Faith is a vine,

Engulfing

Even unwanted spaces.

Faith is a tree:

Roots always deep, without thinking

Branches always wide, without stretching

Leaves always reaching, without trying.

Silence

Questing, searching restless fingers,
Wander now across the band,
Seeking stimulation, meaning,
Find a place to rest, to stand.

But instead of slowly stilling,
Of a measured oscillation,
Instead my fingers find a speeding,
Growing, creeping agitation.

From each station hurling, flinging
Screaming, dancing melody,
Reaching, praising, frantic, driving,
Unrelenting harmony.

Can I slow my questing fingers,
As they race across the dial,
Each small moment coalescing,
Resting silent for a while?

Turn the volume to a whisper
Finding moments to remember
Hear the quiet silence singing
To the stillness I surrender