Form Friday: Ekphrastic

Albert Bierstadt, Looking Down Yosemite Valley, California (1865)

How can one capture living light with paint
And make it move, or grasp a glimpse of time
And translate it to canvas, from the faint
Stone’s shadows to strong sunbeams, make it rhyme
Reality? I see, and I am stopped,
Struck by the detail, stilled by majesty.
An artist dared create; now I am dropped
Into the glory of Yosemite.

Painters and poets, like the prophets, point
To truths oft hiding right before our faces.
They look upon creation and anoint
With holy purpose e’en the commonplaces.
They see then sow the seeds of what they saw,
Thus fostering in us the fruit of awe.


Albert Bierstadt, Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons

Every Friday in November’s poetry challenge was dedicated to a different poetic form, giving us an opportunity to stretch ourselves a bit. This second Form Friday poem is an Ekphrastic, where the poem is a response to a painting or some other work of art. I chose Bierstadt’s painting after seeing it on one of Russ Ramsey’s Art Wednesday posts (see here).

Who Are You?

Who are you? Majestic Maker of all
That moves and all that remains still. You fill
With fullness all spaces, unperceived, call
Dead things to life, direct with perfect will
Without removing our ability
To truly love and to be loved by you.
You are the true source of tranquility,
The good shepherd, trustworthy, steadfast through
Every scene of the story. You are
The center and the circumference, all-
Encompassing and all-surpassing, far
Beyond, nearer still. Somehow you still call
Our small souls into fellowship and free
Our idol eyes to readjust and see.


Photo by Zach Betten on Unsplash

Fear of the Lord, part 1

fear-of-the-lord-part-1-image

My eyes behold a sight so terrible
And lovely I cannot but stand in awe
And dread at knowing now what others saw,
The truth perceived in part through parable.
The Lord of all that is, in love and wrath,
Has ev’ry right to rid his world of me.
And I, now seeing him, do suddenly
Abandon all excuses for my path,
This road which led me to my own demise.
I am a sinful man deserving naught
But righteous condemnation without end.
Yet now I hear a spotless lamb’s last cries,
And now I learn my worthless life is bought,
And now I know that Christ has called me friend.

Who Is A God Like You?

Who is a God like you
That you should hear our cries,
And pardon our iniquity,
And never speak in lies?
Who is a God like you
That we are not too small
For you to stoop and seek and save
Our souls from our great fall?
Who is a God like you
That you should suffer loss,
And leave your throne to bear the curse
Of sin upon that cross?
Who is a God like you
Who overcomes our death
Who makes the broken heart to beat
And gives us saving breath?