i am a little church(no great cathedral) poem by e.e. cummings

i am a little church(no great cathedral)
far from the splendor and squalor of hurrying cities
-i do not worry if briefer days grow briefest,
i am not sorry when sun and rain make april

my life is the life of the reaper and the sower;
my prayers are prayers of earth’s own clumsily striving
(finding and losing and laughing and crying)children
whose any sadness or joy is my grief or my gladness

around me surges a miracle of unceasing
birth and glory and death and resurrection:
over my sleeping self float flaming symbols
of hope,and i wake to a perfect patience of mountains

i am a little church(far from the frantic
world with its rapture and anguish)at peace with nature
-i do not worry if longer nights grow longest;
i am not sorry when silence becomes singing

winter by spring,i lift my diminutive spire to
merciful Him Whose only now is forever:
standing erect in the deathless truth of His presence
(welcoming humbly His light and proudly His darkness)
***

All in green went my love riding poem by e.e. cummings

All in green went my love riding
on a great horse of gold
into the silver dawn.

four lean hounds crouched low and smiling
the merry deer ran before.

Fleeter be they than dappled dreams
the swift sweet deer
the red rare deer.

Four red roebuck at a white water
the cruel bugle sang before.

Horn at hip went my love riding
riding the echo down
into the silver dawn.

four lean hounds crouched low and smiling
the level meadows ran before.

Softer be they than slippered sleep
the lean lithe deer
the fleet flown deer.

Four fleet does at a gold valley
the famished arrow sang before.

Bow at belt went my love riding
riding the mountain down
into the silver dawn.

four lean hounds crouched low and smiling
the sheer peaks ran before.

Paler be they than daunting death
the sleek slim deer
the tall tense deer.

Four tell stags at a green mountain
the lucky hunter sang before.

All in green went my love riding
on a great horse of gold
into the silver dawn.

four lean hounds crouched low and smiling
my heart fell dead before.
***

Poem Blind Faith Poem by Joan Pond

Blind Faith
by Joan Pond

I look for a sign.
If I could see His footprints,
or some honest to God relics,
like a lock of His hair
or the ring He wore.
If the LaBrae Tar pit were filled
with haloes and harps
perhaps,
I could believe.
If there was a place like Graceland
where I could
touch His bathrobe and bedroom slippers,
Then,
my faith
wouldn”t have to be
so blind.

***

Iphone Poem by Jackson

iphone poem

The Iphone Poem

will I sit later in the coffee shop

are you sitting there
is that you over there
at that table
reading words on the screen
with your backpack beside you

are you on your Iphone

will your finger touch
this word
or this word as we scroll

wheee I roll by
wheee you scroll me the other way
I slide by like there are
tiny bearings under me

I look around

I like the case
looks a lot like mine

nice outfit
looks good

this thing has a good camera

I can see you
are a new visitor
and chances are you will spend
twenty three point seven seconds
and will leave this page

I am that old man
near the window
watching the birds
in the parking lot
and feeling
lost

the birds pause on the
back of a chair
one looks my way

I type these words

your finger scrolls the birds

into view

david michael jackson

Where Poem by Marilyn McIntyre

Where
by Marilyn McIntyre
Where?
are poems alive
upon the page
do words have meaning
does the music sing
when no one hears
am i alive when i’m alone
does my breath soar
and reach another’s dreams
will God hear me
can i feel with no other
to give me bounds
and where do my feelings fly
in the night
mysterious and dark and calling
if my eyes cannot see
is it so
and the candle
what of the candle
will it still glow
without tender whispered murmurs
where will my love touch down
must it float forever
meandering among the stars
where does it all go
where does it go
when it’s gone?

***

First published here on: Jan 6, 2005 @ 16:24