Birth pangs
It cannot be stopped —
spring comes
Copyright Francis 2021
Haiku (Irregular): Birth Pangs
Tag: birth
Thought for the Day – 23 December – What Jesus Wants From Us — AnaStpaul (Reblog)
Thought for the Day – 23 December – Meditations with Antonio Cardinal Bacci (1881-1971) What Jesus Wants From Us “Let us contemplate Jesus lying on a rough pallet of straw in the manger.When we see Him looking at us, let us ask ourselves what it is that He requires of us.In fact, He wants many […]
Thought for the Day – 23 December – What Jesus Wants From Us — AnaStpaul
Alone
Alone —
this solitude pounds deafeningly
between my ears.
After the forgotten slap
inducing that first
sharp intake of air,
to my first memory
of a Dresden widow beaming down
into the four walls of my pram,
just what kind of oblivion did I inhabit;
how does it differ from the misery
gripping me now?
In this realm it is the sentence
of every soul to be alone,
even as flesh touches flesh,
reaching the heights of ecstasy
of mortal love.
Soon it is over
and the wails return,
cursing the passion which ensnared
this fractal of spirit
in a world of its own.
Copyright Francis 2020
I Believe (for Advent)
As the song relates
in my happy-ever-after moments:
I believed in the Israelite.
What a circuitous, tortuous route
this mind has been dragged through,
chained to the runaway horse
called magic, or deception,
along with most of the world,
sore and buffeted
through cyclone and fire,
the machinations of men.
I take on board
the doubts and conjecture —
did such and such ever exist;
yet I have studied the shroud
and the napkin of truth — to me
science and the Spirit are one.
So this year as Advent moves
relentlessly on to that crystallization,
when Sol’s southern tropic is reached,
with the death of the sun,
the incarnation of the Son
and the Word,
switching northward towards Light and hope,
I feel my soul and sinews ignite.
This time, more than any other time,
I believe in the Israelite.
Copyright Francis 2020
Death or birth—choose — Jane Dougherty Writes (Reblog)
The message of the Oracle today was unexpected. I would say she has en election on her mind. Bald as death in the eggspilling dark honey into the light mist-paleare those bitter words (not truth)driven by ambition and greed. You would deny the music of the moonthe singing of the starsclaim the sky rains stonesand […]
Death or birth—choose — Jane Dougherty Writes
Haiku: Inner Power
Poem: ‘Delivery’
You see the old lady over there?
The one in the blue mask
heading for the church.
She delivered me, though
no, she’s got no idea who I am.
I see her quite often
alone having coffee,
a bagel and jam.
Many times
I’ve thought of saying hi,
but what do I say?
“You may not know me
but you brought me into this world.”
So I guess I’ll leave her again,
to struggle with handbag and stick
towards her cleansing nave,
while I wrestle with my faith
Copyright Francis Barker 2020
Poem: Your Kiss
I was unaware
of your kiss at first, on forehead
and cheek, maybe even on
my foot – you know, when babies’
feet are cute and pristine, before life
gets too serious and rinds the soul?
Then later, and with equal ignorance, I
noticed your lips, though they’d always
been there. Now the way you walked
and talked
and brushed your hair – suddenly
you were magic! A vision! My lips
against yours, the most natural
avenue in life and love. Then
all too soon, you gave me air
kisses at weddings
and christenings
and funerals, the social graces
that count, their passion sucked
out by convention. And right now
I’m all too aware of
your kiss, on my forehead,
my cheek once more, though you stay
clear of my foot. You realise
that I am slowly leaving, retreating
into soft make-beliefs
of self, sheaths which soothe
the cool airs of emptiness
poem © copyright David F. Barker 2013
