Poetry

Write

/ joethewaller / Leave a comment

Good work is born of disciplined desire
And quiet moments staring at the page
With pen in hand, slow, stoking, till the fire
Begins to burn more steadily. The wage
Is for the workman. Work, then, holding fast
Through highs and lows of labor. There is fruit
That will outlive this age. The truth will last.
The sower’s scattered seed is taking root.
So start the process. Tell the story. Write,
And keep on writing till the final rest,
For though your work seems but a meager light
With meager warmth, yet souls will call it blessed
For helping to sustain them on their way
Through this long night to never-ending day.

Photo by Artem Maltsev on Unsplash

Day 25: Epoch

/ joethewaller / 3 Comments

For years, I wrote of learning how to walk,
Of following the Master of the waves,
Of choosing to obey instead of balk,
Of trusting in the God who loves and saves.
But I misdiagnosed anxiety,
Embracing fear as if it was the Lord.
I was a slave to scrupulosity.
My death was unto him but was untoward.
But light was shining though I could not see,
And love was better than I ever dreamed.
In time, he led me through and set me free,
And all that I had broken he redeemed.
I lost my hold but still was held by grace.
Through suffering, I better learned his face.

Photo by Kelly Sikkema on Unsplash

Form Friday: Poet’s Pick: Curtal Sonnet

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At Poet’s Corner, Hopkins has his place
Among the greats of English poetry,
A testament to mastery of form,
Near Auden, Carroll, Byron, and the face
Of Milton, shape of Shakespeare – symmetry
Of syllables from these still keep us warm.
And we, in fear and wonder, follow close
Their patterns and their pictures, for we see
Their work as strong safehouses in the storm.
They live in legend for they still engross,
Transform.

Day 22: Living in the Future

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I wonder how long Paul thought it would take
  for the Lord to return.
Did he imagine 2,000 years of suppers?
Could he have conceived of
   freedom of religion,
   digital doxologies,
   the never-ending writing of books?
If he were somehow
   transported
   to our time,
      would he encourage,
         rebuke,
            or simply
               join the work?

Photo by Geda Žyvatkauskaitė on Unsplash