Because I lay on my back as a boy in the grass of the small yard behind our house watching clouds move and become faces, mostly,
Poetry
David Denny 1-01-2010
Of all the saints, my Anthony,
I love you best. For you did
what I long to do: you walked away
from a life of comfort and ease,
Scott Cairns 12-01-2009
This is the Month, and this the happy morn
Wherein the Son of Heav’ns eternal King,
Of wedded Maid, and Virgin Mother born,
John Gosslee 9-01-2009
The ram’s horn bellowed.
Fused with snapped spears and hatchet heads
nicked shields covered the field,
Nancy White 8-01-2009
that light kept me a year in its grip first
my feet caught fire then my blood
we moved at the edge of endlessness
headless handless mouthless mind-
Richard Schiffman 7-01-2009
To you who are lost today
like a needle in a haystack, reading this poem alone.
Alone, brother island, sister moon. The ocean is big,
Annie Deppe 6-01-2009
A grace of green, the underleaf
of olive, the birdsong’s
cradling. It’s as though
Nicholas Samaras 4-01-2009
How the earth now
struggles into spring.
How the cold hangs on,
each morning cracking to begin.
Heather Hallberg Yanda 2-01-2009
Violet, whispered Eve, because
saying the names aloud
made the act too real. Pansy
and woodruff, the flowers so small
Jacob Bathanti 1-01-2009
Who am I to cast light upon the human soul?
Sitting down to write peace-verses for mercenary gain,
Hunting for poems and hoping against hope that I need not
Rachel Guido deVries 12-01-2008
Imperfection is the place where the spirit enters,
the small hole in your shirt, the loosening threads
of carpet, the ache in your soul for forgiveness.
Murray Bodo 11-01-2008
She consoles me as I meditate
before Mass—Julian of Norwich,
that is, who says, “We are clothed,
wrapped in the goodness of God.”
And she consoles me after Mass
when I drive home to the friary and
pass two prostitutes who are sitting
on folding chairs next to the curb
helping each other with makeup.
Chandy C. John 9-01-2008
Praise God for all things green
Lime jello, blades of grass, emeralds
Chameleons, the neon river frog
Heavy papayas begging to be picked
Carol Hamilton 8-01-2008
I expect the whitest dove,
purity as the Spirit breaks apart
firm blue of our ceilinged sky,
a tapered shape, an elegance.
But Picasso was right.
Louis Templeman 7-01-2008
She spoke softly, calmly recounting
her pain through a furnace of litanies
that helped her hold on to the unbelief
Kevin Hadduck 6-01-2008
I have seen that I must
Confess to ignorance
I do not know you, although
I have loved you twenty years
The lifting of your lashes
Confess to ignorance
I do not know you, although
I have loved you twenty years
The lifting of your lashes
Carol Tyx 3-01-2008
Like the iris
in the side yard,
I have stopped blooming.
Dig me up, O Spirit,
and split me; where I have grown
calloused, break me open;
Kathleen Hirsch 2-01-2008
I cannot tell you why
I taste death;
the cupboards
are reasonably
arranged,
the windows clean as rain.