Poetry

Gene Grabiner 03-09-2015

Mother, mother / There’s too many of you crying / Brother, brother, brother / There’s far too many of you dying            —Marvin Gaye

then they stomped
          John Willet
as he lay on the sidewalk
hands cuffed behind his back
and shot
                      Michael Brown

who was on his way this fall to college

Donna Pucciani 02-05-2015

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The tale of nails and wood
is retold on the BBC from Winchester,
with hymns about a balm in Gilead,
a wondrous cross, and the choirboys’ echo
of the Fauré Requiem. Cardinal Newman
sends blessings from the grave,
and the organ grumbles “Amen.”

I.
The wailing and the murmured prayers,
the animal ruckus, and coin against coin,
smoke hanging in the temple spaces—
offerings that bear our love to the seat of heaven.

For sixty years my soul has leaned
so hard toward the Almighty, I’m open
like a flower drenched with light
that blossoms into words.

Yet I wonder, will I rest too soon
will I sleep like Miriam
with no honey from the Promised Land
to sweeten this old life?

51.

Marilyn Seven 11-06-2014

Wizards! Caspar! Melchior! Balthasar!
Why fly straight to Fox Herod? Through
Unbounded night—! Bringing only news
Ripe for bloodletting. How black a star
You follow. Herod knows. How bizarre
A kingly claim. Will he oppose? Muse
Like Mary? Ha—! Mothers’ sons lose
Heads to swords & axes. Herod bars
The throne to Jesus. Who kills first?
Herod orders. Dash ’em every one—!
Every male child under two years old.
God’s son Jesus flees to Egypt. Thirst
For blood remains. Later he won’t run.

Naomi Shihab Nye 10-10-2014

Boys on a beach,
women with cookpots,
men bombing tender patches of mint.

There is no righteous position.
Only a place where brown feet
touch the earth.

Maybe you call it yours.
Maybe someone else runs it.
What do you prefer?

Lou Ella Hickman 08-05-2014

for miriam

Brian Doyle 07-09-2014

And it turned out that they had gone over the million / Prayer mark for our son

Madeline Mysko 06-04-2014

I consider the moonflower: / how the big spent blooms look like / three linen tea towels rinsed and wrung out

Samuel Harrison 05-13-2014

"Elevation of the Cross," by Peter Paul Rubens

Through the slippery spirit's incomprehensible means / A perfect surrender.

Kathleen Gunton 04-03-2014

So that for a short moment there is no death.

Zach Czaia 03-05-2014

There are tour guides who speak / all the human tongues, and we are trampled / for being famous blades / but then are resurrected.

Kathleen McCoy 02-04-2014

Sometimes even we— / pierced with arrow-words, with brassy / cacophonies of slurs—stand in calm.

V. Jane Schneeloch 01-05-2014

If my belief were a hickory nut / I'd keep it safe in my pocket

Harry C. Kiely 12-11-2013

The voices are singing, “All will be well, All will be well.”

Philip Metres 11-05-2013

Image by K. J. Snoes

If Advent is a time / of waiting, of joyful anticipation, why are we / so often troubled?

Robert Manaster 10-02-2013

Be the pulse driven from a broken shell.

Ewuare X. Osayande 08-02-2013

Excerpt from Stand Our Ground: Poems for Trayvon Martin and Marissa Alexander

Leigh Donaldson 07-01-2013

Early morning
before he unlocks the church gate
the rector kneels before
the gridiron fence surrounding the Cathedral,
not in prayer
but to collect empty wine bottles,
snack bags, and used condoms.

Gene Fox 06-05-2013

Detail from "The Sea Stopped Raging," by Barry Moser, from Pennyroyal-Caxton Bible, 1999, used with permission.

From the midst of the nether
world I cried for help.
 —from the Book of Jonah

A gray whale blows off Cardiff Beach,
just beyond the glamour homes,
boutiques, and drive-thru windows,
valet service and all-u-can-eat sushi.
I want to swim out and be swallowed.

 
Jonah’s whale wasn’t Ahab’s, all
tripey white and peg-toothed, but
a strainer of phosphorescent shrimp,
which lamped the reeking gut, like
fireflies we swallowed once, in jars.

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