ArborVitae (Tree of Life) – Reflection in a Japanese Garden

Roadrunner3 · Dec 17, 2017

I spied a window to my world
While sitting knee to knee,
Next a tranquil sensate-swirled
Pastoral sat we three.

No house was needed, nor a sill,
Nor glass for looking through,
Soft lens of nature Whippoorwilled
Entreat of form and hue.

I held her hand, He held us both,
Our bench a fallen tree,
Our audience a cornucope
Of critters, cranes and bees.

We gazed upon enchantments
Formal-hewn, fair inscribed
By ancient patterns, foreign gems
Embedded for our eyes.

Pure and dainty Dogwood leaves
Had parted, beauty’s frame,
Portal to a liquid peace
Enwreathed, Azalean flames.

Greying dock, herringboned,
Lay low, inviting chafed
To dip their sore, ill-ladened soles
In waiting, lapping lake.

“Truth is beauty,” seemed to waft
In words unspoken, felt,
Grand design of One who oft
Seemed distant now impelled.

Enwrapped in moment vitalized,
Creation’s glimpse exposed,
Through window Love immortalized
ArborVitae rose.

Greatcloud · Dec 17, 2017

Instead of truth is beauty...... I think beauty is truth is better for this poem. But maybe they were discussing truth. I like it and the oriental flair it has. Thanks.

afishamongmany · Dec 20, 2017

RR a truly beautiful capturing of 'the moment'. Lovely picture.
A joyful Christmas to you.
><>

Roadrunner3 · Jan 6, 2018

Glad you liked it, Greatcloud, and afish we did have a nice Christmas but it was too hectic as usual.
Hope you are surrounded by loved ones as this new year gets started.
RR

Roadrunner3 · Jan 6, 2018

"Contemplation is the highest expression of man's intellectual life and spiritual life. It is that life itself, fully awake, fully active, fully aware that is is alive. It is spiritual wonder."
Thomas Merton

Do You Recall?

do you recall
when your heart first leapt
first wept
first swept into heavenly swirls?

do you remember the day
finding beauty ablaze
amazed as you gazed on a luminous world?

is there membrance now
of the day of the call
the voice so small
was it there at all?

a moment fleeting
a meeting of mind and vapor
a caper of a capricious imagination?

or...perhaps...an invitation
heaven sent
for transformation

afishamongmany · Jan 7, 2018

Oh what a wonderful, wonderful day, a day I shall never forget.

But when that memory grows dim then so do we.
Thank you RR for poetic ministrations.
><>

Roadrunner3 · Feb 4, 2018

What is it?

It is laudable, applaudable,
But barely audible;
Seminal, liminal,
Ubiquitous, free;

Exceedingly tiny,
Seems hardly plausible
Something so small
Can bugle The Key.
*
*
*
*
What is it?
*
*
*
*
*

1 Kings: 19:12

afishamongmany · Feb 4, 2018

Roadrunner3 said:
What is it?

It is laudable, applaudable,
But barely audible;
Seminal, liminal,
Ubiquitous, free;

Exceedingly tiny,
Seems hardly plausible
Something so small
Can bugle The Key.
*
*
*
*
What is it?
*
*
*
*
*

1 Kings: 19:12

Hey RR - Good to see you again. A right good riddle rhyme for those who have ears to hear.
Keep going, keep sowing,
><>

Roadrunner3 · Feb 11, 2018

New Hope

Sometimes,
We’re afraid to hope,
We try to cope best we can.

We watch, with bleary eye,
Sinking sand,
Life squeezed through neck of an hourglass.

Alas, our hope was no hope,
Eternal home of clay walls
Crawls into our consciousness,
Evicting joy, evicting life,
All in an unanimated, suspended state.

Grate of a deeper truth may creak open,
Descending beyond dug grave;
Slaves to darkened thoughts,
Now bathed in ethereal consciousness,
Cry “Joy!”

Floodgates open,
Waves of Life,
New Hope extending beyond Death,
We take a breath, believe,
And indeed

“All things are new.”

afishamongmany · Feb 14, 2018

Roadrunner3 said:
New Hope

Sometimes,
We’re afraid to hope,
We try to cope best we can.

We watch, with bleary eye,
Sinking sand,
Life squeezed through neck of an hourglass.

Alas, our hope was no hope,
Eternal home of clay walls
Crawls into our consciousness,
Evicting joy, evicting life,
All in an unanimated, suspended state.

Grate of a deeper truth may creak open,
Descending beyond dug grave;
Slaves to darkened thoughts,
Now bathed in ethereal consciousness,
Cry “Joy!”

Floodgates open,
Waves of Life,
New Hope extending beyond Death,
We take a breath, believe,
And indeed

“All things are new.”

Thank you RR.
Therefore if any man be in Christ, he is a new creature: old things are passed away; behold, all things are become new.
2 Corinthians 5:17

For we were saved in this hope, but hope that is seen is not hope; for why does one still hope for what he sees? But if we hope for what we do not see, we eagerly wait for it with perseverance.
Romans 8:24-25
><>

Roadrunner3 · Feb 18, 2018

As Nation Mourns (written in sympathy for all those mourning in Parkland, FL)

There is a joy that only lives
In midst of pain,
A healing dawn that only glows
After rain,
Hidden rest that’s only fit
For souls who’ve cried,
Heart that hears, absorbs all grief,
And for this…died.

Roadrunner3 · Mar 27, 2018

I have been watching a Ken Burns documentary on the Civil War. That period in U.S. history was, literally, "gut wrenching". Here is a poem that has come out of my experience in watching this.

1860 Freedom March 1865

bead of low country sweat
slips into ebony groove
unnatural channel, snaking, tortuous
trenched by Massa’s whip

drop of riotous blood
clinging to muddy lobe
releases, merges, blue-gray morass
roar no longer heard

rain indiscriminate
envelops trampled field
combatants converted
drab, dreary
monochromatic

today
all is still
dead are buried
chains released
stifling heat has lost its bloody stench

and yet, today
a wearisome tear freshly formed
abandons beleaguered face
trickles past taunts of 20th century
slips across manicured lawn
around sprawling veranda
to ramshackle shack
unites with pool of ancestors
shouldering indignity’s burden

afishamongmany · Mar 28, 2018

Roadrunner3 said:
I have been watching a Ken Burns documentary on the Civil War. That period in U.S. history was, literally, "gut wrenching". Here is a poem that has come out of my experience in watching this.

1860 Freedom March 1865

bead of low country sweat
slips into ebony groove
unnatural channel, snaking, tortuous
trenched by Massa’s whip

drop of riotous blood
clinging to muddy lobe
releases, merges, blue-gray morass
roar no longer heard

rain indiscriminate
envelops trampled field
combatants converted
drab, dreary
monochromatic

today
all is still
dead are buried
chains released
stifling heat has lost its bloody stench

and yet, today
a wearisome tear freshly formed
abandons beleaguered face
trickles past taunts of 20th century
slips across manicured lawn
around sprawling veranda
to ramshackle shack
unites with pool of ancestors
shouldering indignity’s burden

Mmm RR - special. What I call a slow poem. One reads it slowly and slowly it comes into focus sharper and sharper. The small details lighting up a very large time-space canvas. And with that last line one indeed feels the weight. Excellent! ><>

Roadrunner3 · Apr 17, 2018

On Eve of Man

On eve of Man, in garden sweet,
The Lord debates His final touch,
A vibrant world all mixed and matched
Does it need a human such that
There's a chance all could go wrong
With power of choice and strength of mind
And hearts so prone to wanderlust
The human may incite his kind
To travel down forbidden paths
Unmindful of the dangers there
Against the grain of Master wrath
Where lives are lost and souls are snared.

He deigns to make the man with risks
And wants and needs and fears and strengths
And factors in a back-up plan
To prove how marvelous the lengths
His love is willing to embrace
In order to achieve his end
Of endless joy immersed in grace
With freely choosing mortal kin.

And so Pandora's apple is plucked
Igniting waves of righteous anger,
Simultaneous comes the cry
From the baby...in the manger.

afishamongmany · Apr 20, 2018

Thank you RR - Well crafted, theologically stimulating, delving deeply into difficult, but oh so important, doctrines and the end verse, ah, better than good. Galatians 4:4,5.
Go well
><>

Roadrunner3 · Apr 24, 2018

Floating in the Milky Way

Afloat amidst the Milky Way
His Majesty's ship The Stardust Grave
Packed and loaded with utmost care
With everything needed to get us "there"
A ponderous ship, fully orbed
And ready for all the rays to absorb
Fueled by forces that work unseen
Steered by a star whose constant beam
Of attraction detracts from its impulse to fly
Unleashed to unexplored parts of the sky
Where ominous agents do lurk undetected
Attractive black holes with a Siren objective.

Round and round and round this star
Endless encircling with nary a mar
To disturb the distance or indent the cycle
That's worn an invisible rut in the psyche
Of passengers wishing for more than this measured
Revolving involving the death of their treasured
Dreams to escape this rut and attain
A view that's not tied to this orbital plane.

But, Oh!, what a ship we've found ourselves on
With rivers and oceans and singing and songs,
With loving and sighing, and though there is dying
Lying in wait are the young ones supplying
The life and the joy that gives our life meaning
Imbuing the seasons with laughter, redeeming
The heartache we'd felt from being tied down
To the mast of this endless Merry-Go-Round.

So mysteries abound on His Majesty's boat
And though our whole life may encircle a moat
The Word is the center's not really a star
But One who just spoke when Time was ajar
And started it all with cycles and such
Enhancing our ship with His own special touch
So when we feel burdened and vision is dim
Our cycling can cease, centered on Him.

afishamongmany · May 7, 2018

Roadrunner3 said:
So when we feel burdened and vision is dim
Our cycling can cease, centered on Him.

Thank you RR - theology, philosophy, astronomy, cosmology and a touch of Star Trek, all well woven to take us on a voyage through inner space.
Look forward to the next expedition.
><>

Greatcloud · May 11, 2018

Wow good story rhyming poem just great. I Like the way you bring it back to Jesus.
T Y. GC

Greatcloud · May 12, 2018

If you have time I have a great little poem that is dying for your commenting. It's called return to innocence.

Greatcloud · Jan 4, 2019

At last

Your style is evident in all your great gospel poetry. Sharp simple but seemingly masterfully approahfull.

I admire you, both you and afish quintessential craftsman. Down to earth ,few are you so happy to have joined this club

-Greatcloud

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