Thursday, April 29, 2010

Ode-ing Books

A book on a bookshelf
Is beauty to me.
Lined up together
For my eyes to see.

Hardcover volumes
Are better I'd say,
And age before beauty
I'd take any day.

Books stacked together,
A gorgeous bouquet
Of sweet smelling stories
To brighten my day.

Sunday, April 25, 2010

The Beginning is Nigh!

My wife is very pregnant.
Her belly's getting round.
The baby's kickin' round in there
All movement, but no sound.
We're waiting for the day to come
When baby says, "How do?"
Then cries a bit  and belches up
And leaves a bit of poo.
My wife is very pregnant
The time is drawing near
When life will change and rearrange
And prob'ly get a little strange,
But we've nothing to fear
For happiness is near.

Saturday, April 24, 2010

Anonymity Seeking Glory Seeking Anonymity...

To be known is at the heart of a man.
With all his unconscious vigor, he longs
For others to count him worthy. The songs
They might sing of him, flames he'll surely fan.
Set in those very same coals, concurrently,
Is a pleading desire, a firm resolve
To hide his myriad sins, unabsolved,
Beneath the smoke of anonymity.

Wednesday, April 21, 2010


I have a cudgel.
Be ye warned!
With whoop and grump
It is adorned.
When comes the moment
That I'm scorned.
I'll swing said cudgel
Be ye warned.
Curmudgeon I
Am wont to be
And find my best
When left to ponder
So leave me please
I beg of thee.

I'm not really this misanthropic, but I do like to cultivate a bit of curmudgeonliness.  I want to be that old guy on the porch who shakes his cane at the kids and then laughs when they're not looking because I'm glad they're there.

Monday, April 19, 2010


Out in the country
The church sat there, tired.
It was really only a shell,
Used as a barn
And a place to dump things.
(No, these aren't
Terrible things.
Jesus was born in a barn;
We're supposed to dump
Our baggage at church.)
Nevertheless it's sad
Because there were no people.
Church is people.

Saturday, April 17, 2010

The Beast of the Books

When I was a lad
I always read books.
I read on the school bus
And sometimes got looks.
"Gosh that kid's nerdy"
Sometimes I heard,
Not knowing twas me
To whom they referred.
Didn't much matter
The stories were great
Though not long my hunger
Did manage to sate.
I gobbled them up
A ravenous beast,
Went searching for more
On which I could feast.

Thursday, April 15, 2010

Winter Apples

Fruit rots, freezes, hangs
Given time, given Spring
Fruit thaws, stinks, falls

Promise unrealized
No, betrayed  Abandoned.
A kind of mockery

Virtue is picking fruit
Noticing provision
Being thankful

Wednesday, April 14, 2010

Beautiful Constancy

The golden orb is settling down
  for the night.
The tree stands sentinel
  over the valley.
The river down below
  doesn't mind.
It's the way things are.
Praise God for these motions
  that make sense.

Monday, April 12, 2010


Oh where, oh were could my pizza pie be?
Oh where, oh were could it be?
I ordered it half of an hour ago,
But it's yet to come to me.

I'm sad because I am wasting away.
I'm sad because I've no pie.
The waitress is nice, but she has empty hands
And I am starting to cry.

Oh Lord, please give me some patience today
To wait for just awhile yet.
I thank you for sausage 'n mushrooms 'n sauce,
The pizza that I will soon get.

Saturday, April 10, 2010


When a rat comes to your house
And makes herself at home
Is it best to shoo her out
Or just leave her alone?
And if the ladies like her,
Your wife and mum and sis,
Wouldn't it be better
To give that rat some bliss?

So have yourself ice cream!
And try a tater chip.
Wait a sec, there's one more thing,
The French onion dip!

Friday, April 9, 2010

Ice Cream Ramble

I like me some ice cream
When weather is sunny,
A cone by myself
Or a dish with my honey.
I like me some chocolate
Though sherbet is splendid,
But give me some Moose tracks,
I won't be offended.
Ice cream is nice 'cause it's
Creamy and cold,
Full of nice flavors
That never get old.
Except maybe mocha,
Though don't get me wrong,
I love me some coffee
Especially strong.

Wednesday, April 7, 2010


Is he falling
From the sky?
Or merely floating
By and by?
Is he crazy
As a hatter?
Soon to be
A human splatter?
Is he brave
And valiant too?
Mocking death,
Cold water too?
I don't know
I couldn't say.
But I won't try it.
Not today!

Tuesday, April 6, 2010

The Tower and the Moon in the Sky

If ever the moon, while in Paris,
Stopped for a time in the sky,
That space right above the grand Tower
Would certainly draw the eye.
They'd surely look like companions,
The moon and the Tower below,
And working their magic together
They'd cast forth a romantic glow.
Starry-eyed lovers at sidewalk cafes
Would look up and smile and sigh,
And count themselves lucky to bask in it all,
The Tower and the moon in the sky.

Sunday, April 4, 2010

Easter Morning 4:30am

In the darkest depths of morning,
In the blackest reaches of mourning,
There, just a glimmer of light,
The most slender hope,
Shining dimly...

"What is this?"
"He is not here; he is risen."
Hope is dawning, light is coming.
Are those lilies in the darkness?
My God, I am overcome.

Friday, April 2, 2010

Good Friday

Why Do We Call it Good?
Of all days it’s the darkest by far.
Judas and Pharisees, soldiers and priests,
All of them coming with lanterns and spears,
Peter cutting off Malchus’s ear.
Why do we call it good?
In the night came a mob with vile intent.
In the night came a mob with vile intent.

Why do we call it good?
When a friend is possessed and betrays?
Judas, companion, disciple for years,
Overcome by the devil, betraying his Lord,
Leading this mob full of soldiers and swords.
Why do we call it good
When a friend is possessed and betrays?
When a friend is possessed and betrays.

Goodness?  What goodness?  I see only blood.
Injustice and hatred roll down like a flood.
Goodness?  What goodness?  I see only pain,
Wickedness pouring like rain.

Why do we call it good?
When they hustle him off for a trial?
In the depths of the night was no justice nor right.
Annas the priest was the first judge he saw
Soldiers were striking him hard on the jaw
Why do we call it good
When justice is lost in the darkness of night?
When justice is hidden for lack of the light.

Why do we call it good?
When a friend who is frightened denies?
Peter, impetuous, quick to make promises,
But when he’s confronted is quick to say “No,
I don’t even know him.  This man I don’t know!”
Why do we call it good
When a friend who is frightened denies?
Sits down in the corner and cries?

Goodness?  What goodness?  I see only lies.
While courage and justice are dropping like flies.
Goodness?  What goodness?  I see only hate,
The inexorable marching of fate.

Why do we call it good?
When soldiers were mocking our Lord?
They gave him a robe with derisive intent.
They fashioned a crown made of thorns
And made him the object of scorn.
Why do we call it good
That soldiers were mocking our Lord?
That soldiers were mocking our Lord.

Why do we call it good?
When the word, “Crucify!!” fills the air?
Clamoring priests all determined to kill.
“We have no king but Caesar,” they said.
“This man is a blasphemer and ought to be dead.”
Why do we call it good
When the word “Crucify!!” fills the air?
When the word “Crucify!!” fills the air.

Goodness?  What goodness?  I see only blood.
Injustice and hatred roll down like a flood.
Goodness?  What goodness?  I see only pain,
Wickedness pouring like rain.

Why do we call it good?
When they stretch him out on the cross?
They nail his hands and his feet to the wood.
Toss dice for his tunic un-torn,
While his mother stands there and mourns.
Why do we call it good
That our Lord is stretched out on the cross?
And his mother, dear Mary, watches.

Why do we call it good?
When he stopped breathing?
Nicodemus and Joseph took him down,
Dressed him with myrrh and a funeral gown,
Placed him in a tomb at the edge of town.
And walked away.

Goodness?  What goodness?  Our Savior is dead.
His body is broken and hangs there like lead.
Goodness is murdered and justice a joke
The world is in shambles, irreparably broken
And hope?  How can there be any hope?
Why do we call it good?

Thursday, April 1, 2010

The Perils of Arriving Late for a Concert at the Green Mill Cocktail Lounge

Out on the rain-drenched sidewalk,
Caught in the jaws of wind,
We waited for an hour and more
Their ban on us to bend.
"Full to the gills" the man had said,
"The Green Mill's chock-a-block."
"We'll just wait then here in the cold."
And wait we did till the clock
Struck a slightly later hour
And several took their leave.
We walked in and the jazz did swing
While the folks inside, sleeve to sleeve,
Struggled for a breath of air
While tapping all their toes.
We're happy for the time we spent
Though we darn near almost froze.