So I am planning to submit a poem to the Merton Institute for Contemplative Living, which is having a poetry contest. From their website:
…Poetry that expresses, directly or indirectly, a sense of the holy or that, by its mode of expression, evokes the sacred. The tone may be religious, prophetic, or contemplative… Poems will be judged on literary excellence, spiritual tenor, and human authenticity.
Here are excerpts of the pieces that seem to be likely candidates. I have to pick one. Many need polishing. If anyone has any thoughts or favorites, I’d be most grateful for the feedback.
——————–
the ripe glow between the rooftops
is a wedge of strawberry pie.
always hungry, i throw on a sweater…
——————–
i’m home, but
i don’t want the pilgrimage to end,
so in the plod of rush hour…
——————–
it was also a wednesday
when the last remnant of him in the whole world arrived.
the rest has ground into gulf-coast clay,
sparkled the surface of a lapping pond…
——————–
daybreak is a blue receiving blanket
edged in baby pink, tucked tight
under the chin of a world that was
up half the night, wailing…
——————–
Nobody knew,
that sunny December breakfast in our home
was our last supper with you:
scrambled eggs pulled, runny, off the stove…
——————–
talk to me about the waiting…
mostly I crouch, head bowed, eyes closed
against the soft black, safe in liquid suspense…
——————–
forty
(I’ve been revising this one; I don’t have the new version up on the website, but you get the idea from this post what it’s about)
Forty days from the beginning of hospice care
until she was put to rest.
Forty days in a wilderness, with minimal water,
and with bread that failed to nourish her,
bread that turned to stone in her mouth…
——————–
I.
you are remarkably sober
as you assemble what you need,
a strange array of supplies:
glue, feathers, cardboard, flowers, wire;…
——————–
how many times had she passed by
that tree
and not seen?
how long had that trinket
winked at her
under withering sun?…
——————–
look at this, she said,
and she held up the baby gate
with missing feet
she found leaning against a garbage can
outside a neighbor’s house…
——————–
9 Responses to “pickapoem”
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Asides
» I have been remiss in posting SBJ’s latest stats: 23 pounds and 27 inches at six months. Yes, I’ve got the big mama biceps.
» Aaaaaand little she-who-is lost another tooth this week!
» SBJ is four months old, 19 pounds 5 ounces, and 26 inches tall. GIGANTOR!
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40, definitely 40, but then, I’m biased….
These are so beautiful. Some I have read, some not. I am very moved by your writing.
Which to choose? Sunset on Iona
Ash Wednesday
Clementines
These are my favorites. And here you are living “Advent” again….almost.
Oh, a hard call
For me “Grief” “Ash Wednesday” “Forty” “Clementines” and Untitled stand out…and I truly couldn’t choose between those without living with all of them over a longer period. You have such a gift, and it’s good that you are using and refining it.
3 days after returning or clementines.
To confuse things even more…daybreak.
I love Advent so much I actually think about it from time to time…40 days is amazing as well. All of them are wonderful, so choose as you are led!
clementines is powerful, memorable. the english teacher in me, who just finished to kill a mockingbird with her sophomores, likes boo radley. advent is also such a strong sensory experience — both the poem and the season.
day break absolutely in first on my list with clementines (deeply touching for me), boo radley, ash wednesday following in that order………….your talent continues to shine.
am i too late?
forty
clementines (a snippet of a poem)… yes.
poem (needs a title)
3 days after returning
no rhyme, no reason; just the ones i liked the best.