Tag Archives: poetry

Triduum

It means three days – the Easter Triduum – from Maundy Thursday evening, through Good Friday’s afternoon, to glory at midnight on Saturday. This year we rang in Easter with the Hallelujah Chorus on bells. I’m sure I messed up. But I’m also sure it sounded good, and it was strangely wondrous to be part of it.20190421_104739

Bread and Wine

Bread and bitter herbs and oil
Sponge was dipped in gall
Wine with water smoothly blends
While blood and water pour
One of you betrays me, we
All ask Not I? while each
Betrays him when the end is near
And each forgiven cries
He’s risen; where am I to go from here?

Behold!

Behold the wood—
And cloth of purple dyed is slipped aside—
Behold the cross on which he died.
Behold the wood.

And so I cry—
I did not ask that he should die for me—
And yet I weep
And yet this vigil keep.
Behold the wood.

I am not good.
I do not do the good I would
And what I should not, do,
Yet even with my woulds and shoulds and coulds
He says I’m good enough—
Behold the wood—
For him to pay my price.

So on that tree—
Behold the wood—
He died for me—
Behold the wood—
That I might be—
Behold the wood—
So much much more than me.
Behold the wood.

Behold—I will behold,
And I will try.
Behold, he dies.

And he will rise.

Holy Saturday’s Planting

Yellow in the green grass, suns
Are lit, and, passing, Easter’s Son
Has fit the crime to gift of
Bread and wine. The Son-shine lifts,
And yellow lions bend their heads to Him.
I touch the yellow lion, see
God’s Lion set me free.

Risen Indeed

What threatened us was promise
And what we feared was hope.
In the grave we laid him
Left him then he rose.

Do not fear he whispered.
Tell the world he said
Love to loveless given
Risen from the dead.

Now he gives us promise
Hope instead of fear.
In the grave our trials
Were crushed. The future’s here!

He’s risen indeed!

 

 

How many words is a picture really worth?

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They say a picture’s worth a thousand words,

but silently it waits for you

and never moves nor says to you

one answer, never graces you

with scent or touch or taste for you;

so the much the picture aches to do;

a thousand words will maybe prove

 of higher worth appraised by you

when they describe a thousand pictures too.

Writing Exercise:

  1. Look around. Where are you? What can you see?
  2. Pick one thing that you can see and either listen to it or imagine it making a sound. What do you hear?
  3. Can you smell the object? Would the object smell anything? It it’s not in its natural habitat, what would you smell if it were?
  4. What might the object feel like? Is its surface rough or smooth? Or, what might the object feel – a cooling breeze, hot breath, soft cushion…?
  5. Does something smelled or felt have a flavor too? Does it leave a taste in the back of the throat?
  6. Does your object have feelings or evoke feelings in you?
  7. Does it have or evoke dreams or memories?

Now write:

Describe your object, its past or its future, in a short paragraph that includes all seven senses above. Or describe that troll under the bridge in the picture above. (It smelled green, and the air was rich with flickering shadows and pollen.)