Man in the Maze: poetry

Showing posts with label poetry. Show all posts

Thursday, March 20, 2014

SPRING HAS SPRUNG

A Prayer in Spring

by Robert Frost

Oh, give us pleasure in the flowers today;

And give us not to think so far away

As the uncertain harvest; keep us here

All simply in the springing of the year.

Oh, give us pleasure in the orchard white,

Like nothing else by day, like ghosts by night;

And make us happy in the happy bees,

The swarm dilating round the perfect trees.

And make us happy in the darting bird

That suddenly above the bees is heard,

The meteor that thrusts in with needle bill,

And off a blossom in mid air stands still.

“If people did not love one another,

I really don't see what use there would be

in having any spring.”

.
Victor Hugo, Les Misérables

.
Here's a beautiful "video poem" by
Gary T. Czerwinski I found on YouTube.
Video poems are a unique, and fascinating, way
of presenting this ever-changing medium of art -
poems no longer just written or verbal,
but more than that. A couple of
quotes seem appropriate:
.
"Genuine poetry can communicate
before it is understood."
.
T.S. Eliot
.
"Poetry is an echo,
asking a shadow to dance."
.
Robert Frost.
.

BURIED TREASURE

by Clay Harrison

Beneath the snows of Winter,
Spring treasures can be found
In seeds that lie there sleeping
Below the frozen ground.
.
While snow falls in the meadow,
The rose must get her rest.
Soon Spring will kiss his princess
And she must look her best.
.
Sleeping beauty shall awaken
And yawn without a sound
As sprigs of buried treasure
Come bursting from the ground.
.
All earth proclaims God's glory
When Spring is in the air.
Each bud fulfills a promise -
Each rose an unanswered prayer.
.
Spring is a resurrection -
Winter's stone is rolled away
To reveal God's buried treasure
Each sun-kissed springtime day.

.
Song of Solomon 2:11-12
.

for behold, the winter is past;
the rain is over and gone.
The flowers appear on the earth,
the time of singing has come,
and the voice of the turtledove
is heard in our land.

Saturday, January 28, 2012

A FEW GOOD RELIGIOUS POEMS

.
John Berryman

1914-1972

This is from a much longer poem titled

"Eleven Addresses to the Lord"

....this is "Address" Number 1.

Master of beauty, craftsman of the snowflake,

inimitable contriver,

endower of Earth so gorgeous & different from the boring Moon,

thank you for such as it is my gift.

I have made up a morning prayer to you

containing with precision everything that

most matters.

'According to Thy will' the thing begins.

It took me off & on two days. It does not

aim at eloquence.

You have come to my rescue again & again

in my impassable, sometimes despairing years.

You have allowed my brilliant friends to destroy themselves

and I am still here, severely damaged,

but functioning.

Unknowable, as I am unknown to my

guinea pigs: how can I 'love' you?

I only as far as gratitude & awe

confidently & absolutely go.

I have no idea whether we live again.

It doesn't seem likely

from either the scientific or the philosophical

point of view

but certainly all things are possible to you.

and I believe as fixedly in the Resurrection

appearances to Peter

and to Paul

as I believe I sit in this blue chair.

Only that may have been a special case

to establish their initiatory faith.

Whatever your end may be, accept my amazement.

May I stand until death forever at attention

for any your least instruction or enlightenment.

I even feel sure you will assist me again,

Master of insight & beauty.

Denise Levertov

1923-1997

.
Flickering Mind

Lord, not you

it is I who am absent

At first

belief was a joy I kept in secret,

stealing alone

into sacred places:

a quick glance, and away - and back,

circling.

I have long since uttered your name

but now

I elude your presence.

I stop

to think about you, and my mind

at once

like a minnow darts away,

darts

into the shadows, into gleams that fret

unceasing over

the river's purling and passing.

Not for one second

will my self hold still, but wanders

anywhere,

everywhere it can turn. Not you,

it is I am absent.

You are the stream, the fish, the light,

the pulsing shadow,

you the unchanging presence, in whom all

moves and changes.

How can I focus my flickering, perceive

at the fountain's heart

the sapphire I know is there.

Allen Ginsburg

1926-1997

Psalm III

To God: to illuminate all men.

Beginning with Skid Road.

Let Occidental and Washington be transformed into a
higher place,

the plaza of eternity.

Illuminate the welders in shipyards with

the brilliance of their torches.

Let the crane operator lift up his arm for joy.

Let elevators creak and speak,

ascending and descending in awe.

Let the mercy of the flower's direction

beckon in the eye.

Let the straight flower bespeak its purpose

in straightness - to seek the light.

Let the crooked flower bespeak its purpose

in crookedness - to seek the light.

Let the crookedness and the straightness

bespeak the light.

Let Puget Sound be a blast of light.

I feed on your Name like a cockroach on

a crumb - this cockroach is holy.

Seattle, June, 1956

Joseph Awad

1929-2009

For Jude's Lebanon

It is said he was a relative of Jesus,

That his apostolate

Was to the land we know as Lebanon,

That he gave his blood for Christ.

What wonders did he perform

To win the Barnum & Bailey blurb,

"Patron saint of the impossible."

I'm beginning a novena to St. Jude.

His lone epistle opens lovingly:

"Jude, the servant of Jesus Christ

And brother of James, to be called

Who have been loved in God the Father

And preserved for Christ Jesus,

Mercy and peace and love

Be yours in abundance."

I'm beginning a novena to St. Jude.

He had a poet's way with words.

Evil, sensual men he called

"Wild wave of the sea,

Foaming up their shame,

Wandering stars for whom

The storm of darkness

Has been reserved forever."

I'm beginning a novena to St. Jude.

In Lebanon there is loud lamentation.

Beirut, once beautiful Beirut,

Bloodied by Christian, Jew and Druze,

Weeps like a wound just under the

world's heart.

Pontius Pilates in world capitals

Wash their hands, pronouncing solemnly,

"The situation is impossible."

I'm beginning a novena to St. Jude.

Wednesday, February 23, 2011

THE FOOL'S PRAYER

THE FOOL'S PRAYER

by Edward Rowland Sill (1841-1887)

THE royal feast was done; the King

Sought some new sport to banish care,

And to his jester cried: "Sir Fool,

Kneel now, and make for us a prayer!"

The jester doffed his cap and bells,

And stood the mocking court before;

They could not see the bitter smile

Behind the painted grin he wore.

He bowed his head, and bent his knee

Upon the Monarch's silken stool;

His pleading voice arose: “O Lord,

Be merciful to me, a fool!

“No pity, Lord, could change the heart

From red with wrong to white as wool;

The rod must heal the sin: but Lord,

Be merciful to me, a fool!"

“’Tis not by guilt the onward sweep
Of truth and right, O Lord, we stay;
’Tis by our follies that so long
We hold the earth from heaven away.

“These clumsy feet, still in the mire,
Go crushing blossoms without end;
These hard, well-meaning hands we thrust
Among the heart-strings of a friend.

“The ill-timed truth we might have kept–
Who knows how sharp it pierced and stung?
The word we had not sense to say–
Who knows how grandly it had rung!

“Our faults no tenderness should ask.
The chastening stripes must cleanse them all;
But for our blunders – oh, in shame
Before the eyes of heaven we fall.

“Earth bears no balsam for mistakes;
Men crown the knave, and scourge the tool
That did his will; but Thou, O Lord,
Be merciful to me, a fool!”

. .

.
The room was hushed; in silence rose
The King, and sought his gardens cool,
And walked apart, and murmured low,
“Be merciful to me, a fool!”

Tuesday, February 22, 2011

FAITH IS AN OASIS - KAHLIL GIBRAN

Kahlil Gibran (1883-1931)

Lebanese-American Artist, Poet, and Writer

The third best-selling poet of all time,

behind Shakespeare and Lao-Tzu.

"I love you when you bow in your mosque,

kneel in your temple, pray in your church.

For you and I are sons of one religion,

and it is the spirit."

"Faith is an oasis in the heart

which can never be reached by

the caravan of thinking."
.

. .

.
"Advance, and never halt, for advancing is perfection. Advance and do not fear the thorns in the path, for they draw only corrupt blood."
.

.
"Are you a politician asking what your country can do for you, or a zealous one asking what you can do for your country? If you are the first, then you are a parasite; if the second, then you are an oasis in the desert."

"Nor shall derision prove powerful against those who listen to humanity or those who follow in the footsteps of divinity, for they shall live forever. Forever."

Tuesday, January 18, 2011

A PRAYER AND A POEM FOR THE ROAD

May I love this day and all that it brings
The dust, stones or mud beneath my feet
The air I breathe, food I eat, water I drink
May I open my heart to mysteries along the way
Greet fellow pilgrims with welcome and grace
Move lightly and simply through the day

May I give thanks for the Earth, our fragile home
For all my relations who have gone before me
And for all who will follow ... I am not alone

May the spirit and blessing of the One who is love -
Holy One among us, all around us, and within us -
Be with me today, and surround me with love

Diane Ransom

A prayer she composed for a pilgrimage in Spain

to the shrine in Compostela on the ancient

Camino de Santiago.

We are pilgrims on a journey,
We are travelers on the road;
We are here to help each other
Walk the mile and bear the load.

I will weep when you are weeping;
When you laugh I'll laugh with you.
I will share your joy and sorrow
'Til we've seen this journey through.

*
Richard Gillard