Wednesday, June 16

Tag: photography

Tuesdays Artful Response

Tuesdays Artful Response

Photography, poem, poems, Poetry, poetry reading, sabbath, Uncategorized
Sometimes, there is either no time or no energy to do the things that I aspire to do. So, this week, I have no art. For two weeks running, I have not had/taken the time on Mondays to create. Mondays are my set aside day for Sabbath. In general, I try to participate in life-giving activities on Mondays. Visiting my therapist/spiritual director, creating art, Bible study. and such. Even as I typed that, I realized it isn't true! My entire last week was full of Bible study, word study, and appreciating creation. I took some photos. And don't we know that photography is an art? So, I'll share them here a bit. Last week, I was Camp Pastor for a church camp of senior high students. It was busy. Basically 7 messages in 7 days (and preparing a sermon upon my return). So...plen...

the sacred teachers

Photography, poem
out of the threads of your liturgical languages out of the spare sculpture of your homely wisdom we formed clubs and built ironclad canon we spawned conspiracies of hate - now we are goose barnacles clinging to the rotting flotsam of old boats, we are weighted with the dust of fear and the mold of suspicion though we bluster and grandstand our way through time, the original purity of your intentions is still rooted in Eternity, your guileless simplicity is stronger than the dogs of war, it is the calm light at the center of our frenzied dark it is the grace of rain after a drought, the rivers of compassion that flow as tears sometimes we hear your spirits whispering in the mindful pleasure of our morning tea in the rhythmic stirring of a pot of oatmeal or in a fr...

Ms. Weary’s Blues

Healing, poem, Poetry
blues the helpless, hopeless, remorse-filled blues when you've seen the doctor and she's seen you when Time runs out and Eternity beckons blues the darkest hues with shivering slivers of pewter muting to gray, muting to black, muting to light fractures in a surface permeable and permissible, heavenly Light or, so “they” tell me ... But lost in that Universe of Light will “I’ still be? will “you” still be? answer me that What is the character of this Light? Matter or myth? Ah then... after all, pondering on I find I really don’t care I’ll poem my blues and poem my light until all that’s left of me is what I leave behind... and you? Will you leave your unwritten blue poem hanging in the air to be sensed by the few who can? Or, will you, like slaves of old,...