Thursday, April 30, 2009



Top lit thunder heads
Those fearful breasts of heaven
Our mouths open wide


This marks the end of National Poetry Month. I have only wetted my whistle heh heh.

Wednesday, April 29, 2009



Passion’s hawkish fever
Updraft captures descent
Feathers and Talons



Tuesday, April 28, 2009


Just a flower. But life. Oh it would have faded and died anyway. Never the less, a life given for my pleasure. Makes me want to say thank the flower? to God?


Water and a knife
Slender neck measured and slit
Sacrificial rose


Monday, April 27, 2009

Oh God


Shaking petals loose
Little wind off the water
Oh God there you are


Sunday, April 26, 2009

Faith Rises


Faith pushed from the nest
The urgency of falling
Shall rise the sun


Faith rises on the wings of a thankful heart.

Saturday, April 25, 2009


My dog Punkin. She nearly died today. A piece of a rubber bone that she swallowed lodged in her intestine. She is not out of the woods yet. O Lord, thank you for good veterinarians. Thank you for dogs.
Furry face big head
Happiness chewed into bits
The life or death toy

Friday, April 24, 2009



Lost pathways of blood
Narrow spaces between roots
Scraped to the bone


Thursday, April 23, 2009

Fog Frog


38 degrees
Under a blanket of fog
A chorus of toads


Wednesday, April 22, 2009

Leaf Bones


Fierce pillow of stone
Wrestle yesterday’s lace wings
Endure the mourning


Tuesday, April 21, 2009



Cornflow'r’s throaty flesh
Beauty’s endless looking up
Connoisseurs of blue


Muchas Gracias B. J. Schafer for the photo.

Monday, April 20, 2009

Sunday, April 19, 2009

Raw Mist


Breeze softened and caught
Slightly between words bending
Raw Mist into tears



Hey Non-Poetry People

Ok all you non-poetry people. What do you think of all these haiku? Too much? Not enough? Do the pictures help? Do I hear a yawn? Is it poetry in general? Are the gaps too big? Need a little more story? Want me to comment more? Worried that there is more there than you are getting (probably not hahaha)? How can we, ahem, how can I, do better?


Saturday, April 18, 2009

A Good Man Dies


Death curls on the sand
Lift of vast wingspan unstirred
Still rises the tide


A good good man I know has died. Husband. Father. Teacher. A humble Christian man. If he had lived in the US he would yet be alive. But his home was Kenya. We have been working to bring clean water and a medical clinic to them. Just not soon enough.

Lord, your saving grace is a severe mercy. And your timing indecorous. Sorrow swells wide as the sea between us.

Still I will praise You.


Friday, April 17, 2009

Good Friday--One Week Past


Dare we speak to nails?
How many blows, strength of man?
How many breaths, wind?


Memory of events comes back to us in questions? This is not disbelief? This is the awe of hearing you, someone, anyone, say the impossible is true? You have seen Him?

Thursday, April 16, 2009

Taste of a Sunset


Light never lingers
Held in the mouth a moment
The bright taste of salt


Wednesday, April 15, 2009



Withered wrinkled face
Releases stem of winter
Love drops to the earth


Tuesday, April 14, 2009

Folded Hedged Hushed


Folded like a map
Hedged in darkness, a scion
Hushed as a closed book


Monday, April 13, 2009

Beauty and Resurrection

What can follow Resurrection? What can compare? Perhaps that is why we find nature so beautiful--the endless cycle of death and resurrection.

A pouch of seeds we
Plant with mirth........a promise dropped
In a warm pocket

Sunday, April 12, 2009


Dawn's first blue atoms
Of sky....... triumph scattered by
The panic of birds


Hope runs to meet fear and disbelief--oh then, how it took wing!
The panic of coming that close to disbelief becomes a breathless panic of words spreading the most awesome truth.

Christ is Risen!
He is Risen indeed!


Saturday, April 11, 2009

Falling Through (or the Longest Day)

I don't want to look stoopid, but that man I said was God just died.

Quit looking at me.

Depression’s largess
Hood over fallen tears, short
Fall of heart not skill


Shame wipes a damp brow
Salted self-preservation
Casts itself seaward


Nets gaping with holes
Cast hope into the ocean
The hollow buoy floats


Friday, April 10, 2009

Good Friday

Jesus agonizes on the cross for six hours. During morning coffee it begins. The last 3 hours (noon to 3 pm) darkness covers the whole land.

Consider a disciple, sipping his coffee, who has put all his eggs in this one basket. Could it have felt like anything but losing?


Doubt lets itself in
While hours hum of hoodoo
Death's encore wakens

A Note to Newcomers

Just a note for anyone new to the site-- since April is National Poetry Month, I have invited all to the assignment of a haiku a day. A haiku is a simple 17 syllable poem. Please see the entry on April 1 titled DO NOT RUN. Enjoy.

Thursday, April 9, 2009

Maundy Thursday

On this day four events are commemorated: the washing of the disciples' feet by Jesus Christ, the institution of the Eucharist at the Last Supper, the agony of Christ in the Garden of Gethsemane, and the betrayal of Christ by Judas Iscariot.

A weariness pours over me when I read this. I am thinking of the strength it took for Jesus to press on.

Oh Passover wine
And tremendous bread of God
Here we suckle rocks


Wednesday, April 8, 2009


Fields of strong young stars
Recite guttural prayers
Disguise hope as night
Hope for us is in death. Pure irony.

Tuesday, April 7, 2009

Tongue in Heart

We hide from the Storm
Under a sky broken with
Syllables of love

Today I am thinking about words. How they spill pill out from the spring of the heart--Peter says to Jesus, after Jesus tells the disciples they will all , all , fall away--I shall not, though all the others do, I shall not.

As foretold he denys Jesus three times.

And Peter's tongue reveals Peter's heart.

Peter's heart was pure--he wanted to be found faithful. His flesh was weak and eventually angry and maybe even frightened, and he didn't even have a chance to contain the deluge of frothy words of denial.

Words. They make a person look two-faced, don't they? So easy to be judgemental.

The heart is more complex than I thought.

May the words of my mouth and the meditation of my heart be pleasing in your sight, oh Lord my Rock and my Redeemer.

Monday, April 6, 2009

Fig Monday

Monday of Holy Week--some have called it Fig Monday because it is the day Jesus cursed a fig tree. Jesus was hungry.The tree had no fruit. Jesus cursed it. The tree died in short order.

The story is somewhat perplexing because Jesus' curse seems like a random act of anger--come on, it was not the season for figs.

Turns out that the fig tree has two "fruits" that may be eaten. It was not the season for actual figs, but it was the time of year that one might find the precusor of the fruit, which is also eaten.

So facts are facts. The tree had no precursors. So He cursed it. Kind of puts a point on living a fruitful life doesn't it.....(?!)

Align Center

Leave no waste as fruit
Justice mingles with hunger
Shadows cross cursings


Sunday, April 5, 2009

Palm Sunday

Wave the palm's psalm
Overhead underfoot Hail!
Chills God the King


I was taken aback that no mention of Holy Week was made at church this morning. Call me old fashioned. Not just Easter ( Ressurrection Day), I want to appreciate the whole week, which is rife with things that I want to remember. Help me remember with your thoughts this week.

Saturday, April 4, 2009

Love Poems

Water on water
Vast surface tensions shudder
Your lips on my palm


Have you ever noticed how a love poem doesn't need to mention the word love?

Have you ever noticed that mentioning you are serving, suddenly makes it self-serving?



Friday, April 3, 2009

Finding Love

Horizon sky tide
Thin line where your lips meet slight
Curl swallows me whole

Thursday, April 2, 2009


Making love in a
thousand dif’rent darknesses
old scars look like frost

Wednesday, April 1, 2009


Uh-Oh. April is National Poetry Month.

You have an assignment...

Don’t run! It’s only a haiku—the 17 syllable English form of a kind of Japanese poem. But the parameters are simple. NO, it doesn’t have to have all that HDM (hidden deep meaning). More like small observations. In a nutshell:

3 lines of syllables (5,7,5)
A mention of nature. And a seasonal reference.
A caesura or natural pause in the poem—frequently at the end of the second line.
Has strong sensory images (nouns and verbs –not so many adjectives, prepositions etc).
Happens in the present
No titles.
No punctuation necessary. These are not necessarily sentences-they are phrases.
They are not proverbs masquerading as poems—the images do the talking (i.e. show don’t tell)

Begin with an observation—see if you can avoid the predictable.

One a day for the whole month. JUST TRY IT! Like anything, some will be winners and some will be there simply because. Put them in my “thoughts?”

Even in giving
Make a place for emptiness
The gift of a bowl