You don’t need a pony to connect you to the unseeable or an airplane to connect you to the sky. Necessary it is to love to live and there are many manuals but in all important ways one is on one’s own. You need not cut off your hand. No need to eat a bouquet….
Category
Poetry
A Christmas Prayer
“Help us, O God, to rightly remember the birth of Jesus that we may share in the songs of the angels, the gladness of the shepherds, and the worship of the magi. Close the door of hate and open the door of love around the world. Let kindness come with every gift and good desire…
Nay, we honor no kings without kingdoms
Nay, we honor no kings without kingdoms; nor hear the sound of harps save when the strings are plucked by hands; nor do we see a child playing in our olive grove as if he were a young olive tree. And all words must needs rise from lips of flesh, or else we deem each…
Original Poem: As Viewed By Descendant
What is seen with baby eyes? Perhaps it’s sprouting sights unknown, Dressed in mops and donned with suits. Then forgotten fragrance upon which spilled Gets bumped whenever starry sky’s are held, Fraught until the end we sort; gathered, As if tortured tinder doused in rain, Shivering by night, but held so close (Those baby hands…
He comes to find an empty tent within – poem by Teresa of Lisieux
“Do you realize that Jesus is there in the tabernacle expressly for you – for you alone? He burns with the desire to come into your heart…don’t listen to the demon, laugh at him, and go without fear to receive the Jesus of peace and love… “Receive Communion often, very often…there you have the sole…
Why I’m Afraid of Heaven
If you stood on Venus, where the atmospheric haze is so thick that it bends light, it theoretically would be possible to stare at the back of your own head. Which would mean you’d never again have the pleasure of helping a beautiful woman fasten the clasp on her necklace. On Jupiter, a beautiful woman…
What is a poet?
A poet is an unhappy being whose heart it torn by secret sufferings, but whose lips are so strangely formed that when the sighs and the cries escape them, they sound like beautiful music… and then people crowd about the poet and say to him: “Sing for us soon again;” that is as much as…
What if you slept…
What if you slept And what if In your sleep You dreamed And what if In your dream You went to heaven And there plucked a strange and beautiful flower And what if When you awoke You had that flower in you hand Ah, what then? Poem by Romantic poet Samuel Taylor Coleridge. Painting, Chalk…
On Children by Kahlil Gibran
And a woman who held a babe against her bosom said, “Speak to us of Children.” And he said: Your children are not your children. They are the sons and daughters of Life’s longing for itself. They come through you but not from you, And though they are with you, yet they belong not to…
‘Thou art indeed just, Lord, if I contend’ By Gerard Manley Hopkins
Justus quidem tu es, Domine, si disputem tecum; verumtamen justa loquar ad te: Quare via impiorum prosperatur? &c. Thou art indeed just, Lord, if I contend With thee; but, sir, so what I plead is just. Why do sinners’ ways prosper? and why must Disappointment all I endeavour end? Wert thou my enemy, O thou…