My writing

Three Poems And A Point

For those of you who remember the traditional description of sermons, I hope you enjoy the title of this blog. For those of you who don’t know what I’m talking about, you can ask in the comments. I actually wrote a couple of these poems last week during the time of Easter Weekend. The first relates to the emotions on the Saturday between the crucifixion and the resurrection. While we’red dealing with issues of isolation now due to COVID-19, I tried to imagine the isolation, fear, and sadness of the disciples as they were hidden away, locked out from the world in the upper room.

Saturday

Finished

Death

Dark

Isolated

Alone

Hiding

Fearful

Sad

Depressed

Angry

Tears

Wary

Finished

 

The next poem celebrates the resurrection as experienced on that first Easter Sunday

Mourning Turned to Laughter

An early morning walk

Filled with questions and tears

Who will do it?

An uncovered tomb

Empty

Angels question

Why seek the living among the dead

Worry turns to wonder and then to joy

Running with the news

Others still skeptical

Even after looking

Still fearful and more confused

All but Thomas

Saw Him

Felt His scars

Mourning turned to laughter

Lives transformed, empowered.

He lives

 

After I wrote it originally, I took out a couple of lines relating to Thomas. I’m one of the people who thinks Thomas gets a bad rap. I thought most of that took away from the poem. Still, I wanted to allude to the situation by noting that all the other disciples saw what Thomas asked to see later.

 

I wrote this next poem today. As we deal with the battle of some in the church to continue meeting in the midst of the COVID-19 outbreak as they proclaim that the church is essential, I thought a lot about the problem. While I had some decent thoughts about this, the Breakpoint commentary  “The Non-Essential Church” helped me solidify my thoughts. What have we become as a church, that we need to fight about whether or not we’re essential. The last three lines of this poem are the point in the title.

 

Relevant

The church is dying

Or so we heard

It’s not relevant

In these modern times

When life moves

So fast

And we responded

So fast

And we became

Hip

With it

Relevant

And the church

Was full again

We rejoiced

We were relevant

In tune with the world

Then trouble came

And we were so relevant

We were no longer

Essential

 

My writing

April Camp – From Songs to Poems

I know I’ve been silent here for a long time. It’s been hard getting out to do bird pictures. I’ve been doing more editing than writing, although I just finished a short story for an anthology. I was going to do something completely different for NaNoWriMo April Camp and work on writing some songs. That hasn’t happened yet. But I’ve written a couple of poems. One relates to Isolation, specifically from our experiences with COVID-19, and the other relates to Good Friday. So, I thought I’d share them….

Isolation

No man is an island
Or so they say
That was then
But in this day
The crown spreads throughout the land
A tyrant, demanding tribute and sacrifice
And so
To foil the evil monarch
We separate ourselves
And build walls
Longing to tear them down
We burn bridges to keep him away
Looking to the day
We can build them once again
Necessity may be the of invention
But it’s the wicked step-mother of isolation
And so we sit
Alone
Behind walls
Bridges burnt
Waiting for our glass slipper
That will destroy the crown
And free us from our slavery

and the Good Friday theme…

Who Did This?

The day grew dark
The Son of God hung
Dying
On the cross
I fell to my knees
And cried out
“Who did this?”
He looked at me and gasped
“Father forgive them.”
I heard them mocking
“If…If…if…”
They called out for miracles
Expecting nothing
He looked at them
“Father forgive them.”
Even those hanging beside
Laughed at Him
No matter that
They shared the same fate
Until one changed
And He forgave
I remember the day
That God the Son
Died
For me
I though of all I’d done
And then all He did
And He forgave.

I think sharing poems is the hardest kind of writing to share because they’re written without the barriers we can use with more words. Sometimes I look at them and think about how dumb they are – then someone tells me how much they meant to them. I hope these touch you. They mean something to me and I hope that you relate to the emotions.