Leviticus 1: Burnt Offerings

The ground is deep with snow
and it takes time to dig out the cast iron fire pit,
and fill it, not with logs
but with letters of innocence,

from a time when you believed
more than could have been possible, when
love was pure, and you
felt what was not there, blind

to your own faults and to that soul
you felt so linked to, and yet,
were not.

You light the match, and flames leap
in a tortured dance, lighting the night sky
with their writing as letter by letter,
you watch your past fly

heavenward in bright sparks,
and then, like life, and at times, human love,
flicker out.

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The title and idea for the poem came from my bible reading in Leviticus this morning. Chapter 1 is about burnt offerings, not exactly what the poem is about, and yet, there are themes that link that book and this poem.

The picture was taken in Botetourt Country, at a church gathering a couple of years ago with my fiends at Welspring Presbyterian Church. You can click on it for a larger version.

Tom

Poem: Sunset on Newport Beach

Sunset on Newport Beach

You walk the shoreline of a strange, rocky sea,
flotsam of storms and rocky coasts,
broken against the outlying outcroppings
of stone, half underneath the surface,
sure as sin, and just as deadly,

broken, but not destroyed, made instead
into something softer, like driftwood
or river stones, a thing of weatherworm beauty,
able to appreciate the peace of this moment

in a way others, less storm tossed, less broken,
can not.

==============

The picture was taken in Newport Beach, Rhode Island. You can click on it for a larger version.

Tom

Poem: Thoughts from a Vegetable Stand

Thoughts from a Vegetable Stand

You reach out
to touch the beans,
so brightly colored
you are not quite certain
they are real,

until you look close
and see the dirt
lodged in the tiny
wrinkles, dirt
that in no way

diminishes their beauty,
but only enhances it,
like the flaws
in each heart
that do not make us worse,
merely human.

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I went to the Roanoke Farmer's market earlier today, where I took this picture, and which inspired this poem. You can click on the picture for a larger version.

Tom

Seven Deadly Sins

A while back, while in the midst of a brief writer's drought, I went looking for a writer's prompt, something to write to. I do this often when my own spirits don't seem inspired. Ultimately I came up with the idea of writing a cycle of poems on the Seven Deadly Sins. I thought I would post them here, as something different from my normal fare.

This is the two of them. I'll post the others over the next week or two until this post has them all in it.


Pride

Pride, hidden in humility,
hidden from others,
and more, from yourself,

is destructive
to all it touches,
not killing

but wounding,
torturing,
leaving souls torn
like open sores,
rarely heal.


Gluttony

Nothing.
Not the ancient walls of brick that surround you,
or the rooms of fine antiques,
or the lush carpets beneath your feet,
not the trips to far placees
or the days of leisure.
Nothing

is enough.

How it must torture you
as you see those with so much less,
who do not suffer your hunger,

for the more
that is always just beyond your grasp,
tantalizing,

taunting,
starving you
in the midst of God's plenty.

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I don't have a lot of photos that show the idea of these seven deadly sins, so I turned to Flikr. It seems that a number of photographers there have done cycles of pictures on the them, and it was fun and fascinating to go through them. This one is by mcdiejdh, and you can see more of his pictures here.

Tom