Archive for the 'Poetry' category

If…

February 5, 2010 11:40 pm

IF you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too;
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about, don’t deal in lies,
Or being hated, don’t give way to hating,
And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise:

If you can dream - and not make dreams your master;
If you can think - and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build ‘em up with worn-out tools:

If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breathe a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: ‘Hold on!’

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
‘ Or walk with Kings - nor lose the common touch,
if neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it,
And - which is more - you’ll be a Man, my son!

~Rudyard Kipling, If…

Maelstrom Salvation…

February 4, 2010 2:46 am

I no longer hesitated what to do. I resolved to lash myself securely to the water cask upon which I now held, to cut it loose from the counter, and to throw myself with it into the water. I attracted my brother’s attention by signs, pointed to the floating barrels that came near us, and did everything in my power to make him understand what I was about to do. I thought at length that he comprehended my design - but, whether this was the case or not, he shook his head despairingly, and refused to move from his station by the ring-bolt. It was impossible to reach him; the emergency admitted of no delay ; and so, with a bitter struggle, I resigned him to his fate, fastened myself to the cask by means of the lashings which secured it to the counter, and precipitated myself with it into the sea, without another moment’s hesitation.

~Edgar Allan Poe, A Descent into the Maelstrom

  • Edgar Allan Poe: Complete Tales and Poems
    Edgar Allan Poe: Complete Tales and Poems
    Author: Edgar Allan Poe

Thanks be to the critic

July 15, 2009 1:56 pm

Thanks be to the critic
Bring your precision
That well crafted word of deflation
That righteous eye of observation
Convict us of the sin
Of settling for the lesser thing

Thanks be to the critic
The one motivated rightly
Born of pure honesty
Tempered with humility
Defending the senses diligently

Thanks be to the critic
Friend of the populous
Scourge of the callous
Seeker of the righteous

Thanks be to the critic
Revealer of beauty to us
Mindless enjoyment your sacrifice
In a pursuit zealous
For art and culture beneficent

Can we

July 13, 2009 2:48 pm

Can we create
More than a complaint

When it’s just not right
or worse;
evil
unholy
sinful
Where do we put our fight

Does our creativity end
In line with the boycott procession

Fed up with the propaganda
Do we jump start the same old band wagon

Full of fear
Miserable anxieties
Leftover diatribes
a Homily from yesteryear

Is this all we have to offer
Still safer
Retreat into subculture

Oh holy cloister
We make our last stand fervently
Alone in a cemetery

Can we enter into
Something honest
and Sincere

Does that rug still have a tear
a Reason to prepare

More than our favorite abstraction
More than a novel invention
Oh God, please more than a duplication
Convention
Placation
Imitation
Slighted with condescension

This will so free
Certainly
an Eternal perplexity
but, Is it capable of creativity

A dimension of surrender, completely

So worried about our audience
do we Forget, it’s only You in attendance

Social Life 2.0

July 9, 2009 9:42 pm

Social Life 2.0
Or a fad of the modern ego

Am I just being silly
Or is there a valid warning

A new frontier of possibility
Or the same old lie of technology

Broadcast a thought immediately
Or miss the chance for intimacy

Organized threads of efficiency
Or forget how to dialogue meaningfully

Every moment captured visually
Or is every picture meant for all to see

Life shared whimsically
Or cheapened with flippancy

Distant friendships tingle with activity
Or do fleshly neighbors retain anonymity

Share the spotlight equally
Or disenfranchise others’ dignity

Business finds a fertile new campaign
Or do friendships become network marketing

Our lives joined with cyberspace
Or no attention left for shared space

No need to ever again be lonely
Or is solitude avoided perpetually

Thank Zuckerberg for a new context of community
Or should we look to old Wendell Berry

Captives

July 3, 2009 7:41 pm

Forgive us Lord, this transgression

We of little imagination

Lost in the night of pace

Alone in the market place

Permit us to see the fire

In the desert a pillar

To free our creativity

From industrial captivity

The first born were not enough

Confused, their very lives are snuffed

Standing on the other side

Watching our captors, swallowed alive

O glorious day

We do celebrate

But how soon we forget the task at hand

Is a journey to the Promised Land

Brave artist tends gardens and relationships…

7:17 pm

Gloria and me

I met Gloria a few years ago, and I immediately knew she was special. My first instinct was to work an angle to capture her on film somehow, thankfully that pursuit proved impossible and I had to settle for something much better. I don’t even feel quite right about trying to describe her at all anymore.

Some have discovered her art and poetry, but only a few will have the privilege to walk in her garden.

Q & A…

June 26, 2009 3:07 pm

Dear friend,

Have patience with everything that remains unsolved in your heart. Try to love the questions themselves, like locked rooms and like books written in a foreign language. Do not now look for the answers. They cannot now be given to you because you could not live them. It is a question of experiencing everything. At present you need to live the question. Perhaps you will gradually, without even noticing it, find yourself experiencing the answer, some distant day.

~Rainer Maria Rilke

Delivered by a neighborhood friend at just the right time.

Father from the Past

June 22, 2009 10:11 am

Discovery of the West

My father describes

An adventurous time

Just before the credit line

Rescued from the draft by childhood infirmity

1965 built a damn for California’s prosperity

Simple stories of work and wonder

A feeling of jealousy

My inquiries do uncover

Like a time traveler

With a busted machine

I’m stranded in a scene

From the future obscene

A small world of facts and figures

At 32 I have far too many answers

Gloria’s secret garden

June 19, 2009 12:25 pm

I ran away

To her secret garden

Pine needles and leafy cover

Potted plants and nurtured ground

A place soaked by love found

Attention and care of a mother

Conversations for sure

But a wounded spirit better still

Vulgar words that heal

One place that is real

Most are ready not to receive

Nothing forced will be perceived

Only wind, water, and sun will allow it to grow

The perfect pleasure of being known

Respect for age for sure

But the art of life mediates pure

You only can take a little at a time

Surprise is the messenger of sublime

Make it hurt so good…

May 12, 2009 3:47 pm

Our Nonage

The number of fools not yet acknowledging the first condition of manhood nowise alters the fact that he who has begun to recognize duty and acknowledge the facts of his being, is but a tottering child on the path of life. He is on the path: he is as wise as at the time he can be; the Father’s arms are stretched out to receive him; but he is not therefore a wonderful being; not therefore a model of wisdom; not at all the admirable creature his largely remaining folly would, in his worst moments (that is, when he feels best) persuade him to think himself; he is just one of God’s poor creatures.

~ George MacDonald

  • George MacDonald
    George MacDonald
    Author: C. S. Lewis

I think I am going to be spending a lot of time with this wise old Scottish Christian full of hard truth, tender guidance, and humorous observations.

Creeping Christians…

April 24, 2009 10:35 am

We are and remain such creeping Christians, because we look at ourselves and not at Christ; because we gaze at the marks of our own soiled feet, and the trail of our own defiled garments… Each putting his foot in the footprint of the Master, and so by defacing it, turns to examine how far his neighbor’s footprint corresponds with that which he still calls the Master’s, although it is but his own. Or, having committed a petty fault, I mean a fault such as only a petty creature could commit, we mourn over the defilement to ourselves, and the shame of it before our friends, children, or servants, instead of hastening to make the due confession and amends to our fellow, and then forgetting our own paltry self with its well-earned disgrace, lift up our eyes to the glory which alone will quicken the true man in us, and kill the peddling creature we so wrongly call our self.

~ George MacDonald

  • George MacDonald
    George MacDonald
    Author: C. S. Lewis



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