Ready to Make Friends with Poetry? ⟶
The origin of the word ‘journal’ is from Old French–“jornel” meaning ‘daily.’ In Latin the word is ‘diurnalis’, prompting our English word ‘diary.’ A journal is “a record of daily events, a day book, a ship’s log.” People, myself included, used to ‘keep’ a journal, a place to collect important events, timely thoughts, the occasional…
Jesus, because He said I could (ask) about a Five Year Plan– like a plannable annuity with a guaranteed return on my investment. as if… as if a sure answer for my tomorrows would bring me peace today. He whispers instead what’s doable– the Five Hour Plan-a chunk of time allotted to say, oh, baking…
Facing the stove, I busy my hands with this thrice-cooked fowl, weaving waterherbs and onions to conjure a warming repast for our souls.Skin holds meat, meat holdsbone (or is it the other way around?) andas chunks slip and slide into the bubblingpot before me, I wonder, wordless,at the speed with which we revereand revile our…
Disclaimer: the following is a sort of movie review. This film was made in Hollywood. There are a couple bad words in it and people sleep together. They are fully clothed and nothing happens, but still. Just thought I should say that. My friend Jill and I finally got to go see “LaLa Land.” (Los…
What can you hear in a winter sky? Trees sleeping, sap coursing slowly stopped by these northern climes and their accompanying chill. The sound of sunlight, settled like a theater’s best ending, shadowplay kept…
Son, ferried within water, the womb of his mother. She, comforted on the back of a donkey, led at the hand by a hopeful man, father, to the House of Bread.Seer, sounding words that seared the hearts of those who…
The whole universe was stilled as tho’ listening for a voice. For the space of one heartbeat there was peace on earth…Existence rested against the heart of God, then sighed and journeyed again. Elizabeth Goudge, “Green Dolphin Country.” I enjoy saving and savoring words—new words, old words, your words. Although I am not endeavoring…
I flatten myself carpetside, legs parallel as the lines of a crosswalk,arms a perpendicular “T”to my torso, aching as theystretch (or do they stretchand therefore ache?) Open-bodiedstance releases all weight of this weary week.White-flagging my way to the floora wide space spans my once-tightpalms, now held by an invisiblesilken thread index to index.Sprung free from…
Autumn morning, my eyes are trainedthrough windows to the shadowshow on tree trunks, crayon box of colors falling through space from newly-revealed branches.Creator comes to mind, how Hecarries us, colors us, covers uswith His power, tree-like arms ourstrength, raising us Heavenward. Aware that sap is invisible, a pulsing, stickyriver, carrying nourishment in its wake while…
view of our backyard, early Summer, from the upper deck I have been pondering the tension lately between between the image I project to the world about my life and what is ACTUALLY going on. Every morning I stand at my kitchen sink, I see a variation of this view above. I often post the…