Monday, June 29, 2009

MAY – I

MAY – I

I’m not quite yet the person
I want to be for you.
The process may take eons
Before the work is through.

I’m not quite yet the servant
I long to be for Thee.
The meekness may take ages
To offer perfectly.

I’m not quite yet the daughter
I hope to be for Him,
My weaknesses seem larger –
Though time makes Love less dim.

(3 May 2009, Provo, Utah)

CALCIUM LINE

CALCIUM LINE (from James K. Hallen and Emily E. Dickinson)

The stars that move away are red –
Approaching ones are blue.
Red arteries give oxygen –
The blue veins will refuel.

The Magellanic clouds are stars
Below Equator’s ring.
The Earth – light’s brightest radio –
Has prayers for signaling.

Circumference – periphery
Will bear the words around.
Mimesis – imitatio –
A Milky Way of sound.

Periphrasis tells truth by slant
In rays of slight degree.
Circùmlocútion tilts the Pole –
Reception’s apogee.

(21 June 2009, Pleasant Grove, Utah)

CORDS (John 2:15)


CORDS (John 2:15)

Why did He cleanse the Temple twice –
Confront the thieving den?
So patient facing many wrongs –
Why risk the wrath of men?

Why turn the tables in the Court –
Why purge the blasphemy?
Instead of overlooking graft –
Why challenge usury?

He had to show us how to act
When desecrations spoil.
He had to teach us how to guard
The consecrated oil –

Instructing us to choose the Right
When opposition reigns –
Exemplifying Majesty
To break corruption’s chains.

The inner vessel must be cleared –
The chambers purified.
No unclean thing can enter where
His presence will abide.

Though persecutions rant and rage –
No accusation stands.
He valiantly redeems the space
Blessed by His Father’s hands.

(21 June 2009, Pleasant Grove, Utah)

“I BELONG TO A FAMILY”

“I BELONG TO A FAMILY”

You made a trusty Nest for me
Before my mortal birth –
So I could learn to feed and sing
When I arrived on earth.

You kept me safely snug and warm,
Then taught me how to fly.
I thank you, Mother, Father dear,
For showing me the Sky.

(28 June 2009, Pleasant Grove, Utah)

ROBIN’S DISCREPANCY

ROBIN’S DISCREPANCY

I held him in my Hostage Hands –
He yielded to my weak Demands –
He settled in a cotton cell –
Recovered in a cardboard shell.

The Robin is the Bard – the Bead.
His eye – a prayer to intercede.
Upon the ground a wild cat creeps –
Beneath the earth a Robin sleeps.

The Robin is the Poem, I said.
These not my words, but his instead.
I only listen and record
The funeral of a wounded bird.

(2 April 2008, Pleasant Grove, Utah)

Thursday, June 25, 2009

HOW A POEM BEGINS (for Emily D.)

HOW A POEM BEGINS

That every one will rise again
Astounding Clemency –
That every corpus spirit meet
Refutes Duplicity –

To love – to sing – Circumference –
A Poet’s legacy –
Our Business is to Resurrect –
Resplendent Company.

(25 June 2009, BYU, Provo, Utah)

Monday, June 15, 2009

LONGING PSALM

LONGING PSALM (for CSW)

I wish I could have been the one
In lone Gethsemane
Who held the Savior when He wept
For them – for you – for me.

I wish I could have cooled His brow
And wiped the sweat away –
I wish I could have stayed awake
As long as He could pray.

I wish I could have heard the plea
Of mediation’s case –
I wish I could have eased the hurt
That marred His patient face.

I wish I could have helped Him pay
The price of sin that night –
I wish I could have run to Him
When others fled in fright.

I wish I could have followed Him
And stopped the brutal men
Who desecrated holiness –
Who made Him bleed again.

I wish I could have shouted “No”
When Pilate asked the crowd
If they would crucify their King –
But that was not allowed.

He willingly accepted doom
To finish Judgment’s claim –
I wish I could have bourne His griefs –
Instead – I’ll bear His name.

(20 April 2009, Provo, Utah)

“YET IN MY FLESH”

“YET IN MY FLESH” (for K. S.)

All Synagogues and Mosques will glow –
All Temples be restored –
All Tabernacles rise again –
By Virtue of our Lord.

All desolation be Redeemed –
All broken walls Replaced –
A Restitution of all things
Prepares us for His Face.

The body is a Sacred Space
Defined by Purity –
The heart is the Most Holy Place
Where we can ever Be.

(6 June 2009, BYU, Provo, Utah)

LEADER

LEADER (for J. R.)

Kindness is the renovator –
The walls come tumbling down –
A Jericho defensiveness
Becomes an open town.

A note on linen paper card
With message from a Peer
Who pours out praise in equity
Will help bring Zion here.

(5 June 2009, BYU, Provo, Utah)

ASLAN

ASLAN (for Truman Madsen)

The fact the Savior will come back
Grows clearer every day –
Though Spring is on Sabbatical,
And Summer is away,

And winter wants to stay all year
With breezy chilly blast –
An unforgiving attitude
Like grudges from the past –

But Light replaces every front
Though storms are brisk and bold,
And cheerful Robins – plus Magpies –
Rebuke the lagging cold.

While potentates and prodigals
Pronounce that Earth is spent,
Great Companies and Chariots
Surround the innocent,

And underneath the straggling frost
In every Garden bed,
A Tree of Life is rooting deep –
Producing Fruit instead.

(27 May 2009, Alnö, Sweden)

DOILY

DOILY

Making lace means counting space –
The looping strands make rime –
Slender hooks spin filigree
That threads life into time.

Delicate translucency
Creates a candid net –
Intricate simplicities
Not easy to forget.

Doubled damask tapestry
Impresses connoisseur –
Fragile chains of sheer crochet
May also please Monsieur?

(24 May 2009, Alnö, Sweden)

OVE’S ODE

OVE’S ODE

“Old people look like birds,” he said –
A splendid senior man.
“It’s good for people to grow old –
The ageing helps them plan –

For they have long to travel yet
From here to other years –
Their blinking eyes anticipate
The higher atmospheres.”

He kindly showed me how to buy
My tickets for the train,
Then cycled off to Sweden’s trails
In sun – or cloud and rain.

“The need to eat beats politics,”
He taught at evening’s board.
“Will you please tell what you believe?
I’d like to know the Lord.”

(20 May 2009, Stockholm, Sweden)

DRAMA QUEEN

DRAMA QUEEN

I thought that poetry would fail
When Hope seemed hoax again –
But words still work, and light peaks through
The curtains in my brain.

Who says that artists have to brood?
A writer’s heart must break?
Though blood looks rusty in my lines,
I write – for goodness sake.

“The Poet” left the titles off –
But I like naming verse –
As if to christen sets a stage
Where wonder can rehearse.

Paralysis is merely pride –
Procrastination’s gone –
The patient actors wait backstage –
The Epic must go on.

(15 June 2009, Pleasant Grove, Utah)