Poetry Collection

I am starting to organize the poems that are on this website.

I normally post my poems simply as blog posts, usually after spending some time editting them.

However, so are posted as fairly raw drafts.

Eventually, I go back, revise some of the poems, and place them into a structure related to other poems. It helps me think about how my poems interrelate. Hopefully, it will be helpful to you as well.

Some poems end up in a section at the bottom of uncategorized poems. These are often poems I haven't gone back to work on or to think about how they relate to other poems.

In particular, poems that I write during periods where I post a poem a day end up in this section.

There are links below to navigate through the different sections, subsections, and the poems within each subsection.

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Finding Skittles on the Altar

A form of poetry I’ve been very interested in recently is called ‘found poetry’. Here is what I’ve found recently.

The second and sixth stanza are from a political campaign, but I changed one word in the latter stanza for more impact. The first is a comment a friend made about those quotes. The third stanza is from Matthew 20. The fourth is from the Episcopal Book of Common Prayer, and the fifth is from the musical Jesus Christ, Superstar. I end off with putting the question in the form of the questions asked during baptism in the Episcopal Church.

While some people looko at the political quote as a poor political analogy, I think it is really a great analogy for the Christian life.

Eating the skittles
is following
the way of the cross.

“If I had a bowl of skittles
and I told you
just three would kill you.
Would you take a handful?”

“You do not know what you are asking, Jesus replied.
“Are you able to drink the cup I am going to drink?”
“We are able,” the brothers answered.
“You will indeed drink My cup,” Jesus said.

“After supper he took the cup of wine;
and when he had given thanks,
he gave it to them, and said,
"Drink this, all of you:
This is my Blood of the new Covenant,
which is shed for you
and for many
for the forgiveness of sins.
Whenever you drink it,
do this for the remembrance of me."

“I will drink Your cup of poison
Nail me to Your cross and break me”

“Let’s end the politically correct agenda
that doesn’t put God first”

“If I had a bowl of skittles
and I told you
just three would kill you.
Would you take a handful?”

“I will, with God's help.”

Summer Reverie

I never tire of the sound of the tires
grinding the gravel road
to the summer camp.

On those lovely evenings,
I’d loaf at the campsite
with a loaf of French bread
assorted cheese
and wine.

Or I’d head into town
for my sole meal
of stuffed sole
or perhaps scallops
au gratin
gently baked.

Now, the autumn moon shines
on freshly picked apples
and I pine for the pines in the sands of the Cape
with their wind gnarled branches withstanding the storms,
their long winding roots traversing the path.

Mornings I’d trip on those roots on my trip
to the surf on a trail lined with beach plums.

The seaside solitude of early morning
was only marred
by trash
disowned by others:

lost toys
by frenzied families,
the tools of the trade
of fishermen
on trawlers passing by;
I once saw a saw
of unknown origin
washed ashore.

Standing quietly
by the remains of a campfire
I thought to myself
even here,
I can help
restore beauty
and I picked up the cans
of an earlier party.

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It was a special vase
full of magic and grace
that we acquired
fifteen years ago.

Over the years
it had tumbles
gained cracks
but stayed intact.

in was smashed
beyond repair
and I just don’t care
any more.

So I sat under the broom tree
with the prophets of old
and sulked.
Then the Lord came to me
and said,
“You know that’s not true.
You know you care
more than you can stand.”

I replied,
“Yes Lord,
but I just don’t have the energy
to pick up
all the broken pieces.”

Then the Lord replied,
“but I do.”
So the Master Craftsman
gathered several apprentices
and we all worked together
picking up the broken pieces
building a new vase
with the cracks filled with gold
even stronger
and more beautiful
than before.

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Fiftieth Birthday

(For Kim on her Fiftieth Birthday)

Half century seems nigh unto eternity
to the young
but to others
fifty is the new twenty one.

Her daily grind was littered
with death and disappointment
but still on the weekends
a young girl
eagerly rode
wild and free
on her loving pony
over back woods trails
in the memories
and body
of a chronically ill mother
as she looked on
to her daughter’s bliss.

In the midst
of all the pain and suffering,
of the mother,
of the daughter,
of the world;
each day
contained the hope
of enjoying the world
God had made
especially for her.

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