Recent Poems

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Moored         Print this poem only

 

Floating upon the waters

has been natural for me

on my wavy journey of faith

yet for most of my life I have been moored

to one or another church or spiritual dwelling

and there in the six directions

of the medicine wheel

or in mindful silence and meditation

I found solace and inspiration

and challenges to be a better man.

 

Born into the Roman church

from a mother whose tie to sanity

was her rosary

each bead a knot

and the chain her bond to the holy.

 

Novenas, prayers, litanies, and creeds

became the native tongue

taught when we were young

mysteries and sensory symphonies

of the rituals filled us to the brim

spilling dreams and designs

for a special future

ending in the Great Upthere.

 

But a destiny of storms

awaited me on my journey there

as I fled into a barren night

a zeal and appeal of career my light.

 

Now in the lateness of life

I am again moored in a church

in love with several humble followers

of Jesus the Christ there

songs and Word and wisdom fill the air.

And back home I have my own medicine woman of a wife

a five decade anchor of faith

a vessel and fiery heart full of love.

 

So here I am no longer floating

or boating from one port to another

my friends are dying and growing old

my body battered and heart weary

but I am alive, again brimming and often teary

for God has taken hold of me

Jesus who hounded me has tackled this old fool

and the Spirit has chiseled and shaped a jewel

tenderized my heart with his reckless love,

his overwhelming endless push and pull

and with his merciful Light has re-created and made me full.

Written 4-9-19

Moored-collage.JPG
 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A Quiet Moment         Print this poem only

 

In this quiet lake 

floating on a fugue and the Clair de Lune

the softness of your touch 

soothes me smooths and sands away

rough edges. 

 

How sweet this pianissimo movement

before the bombast trumpeting of work and muscle.

These times make a life of worth and dignity 

give now its power

and hint of eternity. 

 

Written 4-27-19

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

My Heart          Print this poem only

 

Tomorrow makes its way into the history

of my heart – always a mystery to me

it is full of people, music, feeling, and strain

a morsel of ache and moments of drain

it has taken me

walked and run

from rising to setting sun

from shame to grace

from a lower to a higher place.

 

This old heart has filled me with tears

of sadness, joy, faith and fears

awe and anger, glorious heights

lowly dark and bruising disgust

love full of passion, pain, and trust.

 

Touched by victories over incredible odds

moved from darkness to cirrus gods

from squalls and brawls and angry shouting

snatched me from moments of demons and doubting.

 

Heart to beating heart in warm embraces

football in sandlots and youthful races

fearful greetings and tearful goodbyes

falling in love with her big brown eyes

heart to heart in evenings of sharing

from being apart to coupling and caring.

 

And so tomorrow I and my heart

go again for another new start

in the hands of healers

and angels from afar

whatever comes from this

if all is well or it goes amiss

I fear not whatever the course

for I have been - and will be - in the hands of the Source.

 

Author's Note:  This poem was written the day before I was to go into the hospital for an outpatient procedure to get my heart back in normal sinus rhythm.  I've had these procedures before, but still get a little concerned about the outcome.  This poem is my reflection of that procedure and what my heart / heart means to me.

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Written 4-10-19

 
2020 Copyright by Glenn Currier