W
woodland_poet
Guest
Where does one go to converse, confer and otherwise hob-nob with hie fellow poets? Or at least converse with people who have an interest in poetry and are willing to have a serious or meaningful discussion about poetry? I wrote one poem today, on my birthday of all things. I don’t really need to be wished a happy birthday. It’s simply another day special only for the grace of doing some satisfying writing. So, if there are any takers, I guess that this is the thread for you. After all, the Pslams are poetry, and the book of Job was poetry and poetry was very important in the life of John Paul II. I would think that Catholics more than others would have a greater and more keen interest in poetry as a form of a Catholic faith expression not only on matters of faith but on matters of the world as well.
Fly you little sparrow from the shadow of the green,
to the wild colored blossoms of the field and meadow.
New leaves have born light as seldom men have seen,
emblems of God and nature that Wisdom proclaims.
Come tomorrow is the song for the seasons born anew,
and from all of Her mystery come all of their names.
Bear upon your wings the solemn mark of His love,
more handsome than the stars and as wide as the sea.
Owe unto your heart that burden which is enough,
a pefect sacrifice for the world and as for you alone.
These are all we need and more that simply might be,
at one with heaven and the kingdom of heaven’s own.
Call as unto a river that perfect psalm of the night,
prayer for love and prayer for deeper understanding.
Look unto the darkness unto this more perfect sight,
as the children of faith by the Father’s perfect hour.
And rest your tired wings upon that perfect landing,
in the endless embrace of tender and gracious power.
Unto the sun and the moon guide your saving flight,
as steady the course as rouses time to quietly endure.
So run your race by steady graces of earthly might,
lift high your head in Christ while we remain as one.
As steps upon the burning sand steady and as sure,
bear the victory of hope that in Calvary he has won.
Brian Francis Hudon
January 4, 2011
brianfrancishudon.blogspot.com/
Fly you little sparrow from the shadow of the green,
to the wild colored blossoms of the field and meadow.
New leaves have born light as seldom men have seen,
emblems of God and nature that Wisdom proclaims.
Come tomorrow is the song for the seasons born anew,
and from all of Her mystery come all of their names.
Bear upon your wings the solemn mark of His love,
more handsome than the stars and as wide as the sea.
Owe unto your heart that burden which is enough,
a pefect sacrifice for the world and as for you alone.
These are all we need and more that simply might be,
at one with heaven and the kingdom of heaven’s own.
Call as unto a river that perfect psalm of the night,
prayer for love and prayer for deeper understanding.
Look unto the darkness unto this more perfect sight,
as the children of faith by the Father’s perfect hour.
And rest your tired wings upon that perfect landing,
in the endless embrace of tender and gracious power.
Unto the sun and the moon guide your saving flight,
as steady the course as rouses time to quietly endure.
So run your race by steady graces of earthly might,
lift high your head in Christ while we remain as one.
As steps upon the burning sand steady and as sure,
bear the victory of hope that in Calvary he has won.
Brian Francis Hudon
January 4, 2011
brianfrancishudon.blogspot.com/
I’ll probably get a lot more out of the books and the poetry now.