I wasn’t raised with the wirings and poetry of Rilke, but I am sure grateful to have been introduced to them. The following is arguably one of his best known quotes, yet I had to post it. It is just
Things to Thinkby Robert Bly Think in ways you’ve never thought before. If the phone rings, think of it as carrying a message Larger than anything you’ve ever heard, Vaster than a hundred lines of Yeats. Think that someone may
Take a moment (six minutes) to view this short film, “Dance Me to the End of Love” by director Aaron Goffman. Featuring the music of Leonard Cohen and starring Quentin Tarantino, Sylvia Binsfeld. Peace, dwight
Catch What You’ve Thrown Yourself by Rainer Maria Rilke As long as you catch what you’ve thrown yourself, it’s all just clever agility and venial gain; but when you suddenly come to catch a ball an eternal playmate has thrown
Making Peace by Denise Levertov (1923-1997) A voice from the dark called out, “The poets must give us imagination of peace, to oust the intense, familiar imagination of disaster. Peace, not only the absence of war.” But peace, like a poem,
A Community of the Spirit by Rumi There is a community of the spirit. Join it, and feel the delight of walking in the noisy street and being the noise. Drink all your passion, and be a disgrace. Close both
The God Day by Lynette Friesen I came to him Open to the pain of my sin The regret and remorse The fall-on-your-knees cries of failure Wanting to seek what he has for me Knowing I come so
On this day, the birthday of my life partner. I want offer a poem that makes me think of her every time I read, hear or even think of it. Its by the brilliant poet Billy Collins… whose work I
Tomorrow will mark the 15th anniversary of the Lynette and Dwight Wedding. picturing Lynette Sometimes when I think of my partner my heart pictures her In her parent’s basement laughing with her girl friends Or driving her orange Datsun station wagon
Wild Geese by Mary Oliver You do not have to be good. You do not have to walk on your knees for a hundred miles through the desert, repenting. You only have to let the soft animal of your body
Somehow I sense that this might this connect with yesterday’s post?! The Journey by Mary Oliver One day you finally knewwhat you had to do, and began,though the voices around youkept shoutingtheir bad advice –though the whole housebegan to trembleand
Show Me, Dear Christ by John Donne Show me dear Christ, thy spouse so bright and clear. What! is it she which on the other shore Goes richly painted? or which, robb’d and tore, Laments and mourns in Germany and
Hallelujah! Christ is risen from the dead, trampling down death by death, and to those in the tomb Christ is giving life. Spring Song by Lucille Clifton the green of Jesus is breaking the ground and the sweet smell of
A Psalm of Life WHAT THE HEART OF THE YOUNG MAN SAID TO THE PSALMIST by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow I Tell me not, in mournful numbers, Life is but an empty dream! For the soul is dead that slumbers, And
Totally like whatever, you know? by Taylor Mali In case you hadn’t noticed, it has somehow become uncool to sound like you know what you’re talking about? Or believe strongly in what you’re saying? Invisible question marks and parenthetical (you
Otherwise By Jane Kenyon I got out of bed on two strong legs. It might have been otherwise. I ate cereal, sweet milk, ripe, flawless peach. It might have been otherwise. I took the dog uphill to the birch wood.
Today millions of our siblings in Christ join together in an 1,100+ year-old tradition of commonly referred to as ‘Ash Wednesday’. The ashes – which are from the burned palm branches from the previous year’s Palm Sunday service – are placed
Untitled Too by Lynette Friesen She stood on the side of the road In a dress of cut cardboard. She looked a bit in need of a bath and a warm cozy fire, But then so did I. An empty
The Third Body by Robert Bly A man and a woman sit near each other, and they do not long At this moment to be older, or younger, or born In any other nation, or any other time,
Sea of Faith by John Brehm (In The Southern Review) Once when I was teaching “Dover Beach” to a class of freshmen, a young woman raised her hand and said, “I’m confused about this ‘Sea of Faith.'” “Well,” I said,
Anthony Hecht who was one of America’s great poets, passed away this week. Here is one of his many poems, click here to hear him read it. Chorus from Oedipus at Colonus by Anthony Hecht What is unwisdom but the
God Says Yes To Me by Kaylin Haught I asked God if it was okay to be melodramaticand she said yesI asked her if it was okay to be shortand she said it sure isI asked her if I could
but God by Dwight J. Friesen I walked I ran I put my headphones on I turned up the noise I flipped the channels I changed lanes I turned the page I sampled a taste I couldn’t sit still I
The poetry I write usually flows from journaling or from times of SoulRest. I have no grandiose illusions about the quality of my poetry, yet it is mine. And though it is thoroughly idiosyncratic and amateurish it gives voice the
Today Lynette and I celebrate our fourteen years of discovering our own ways of reflecting God’s relationality. Fourteen years sounds like a long time to me but it sure hasn’t felt like a long time. In fact it’s hard to
A Daily Prayer by Saint Teresa of Calcutta Dear Jesus, Help us to spread your fragrance everywhere we go. Flood our souls with your spirit and life. Penetrate and possess our whole being so utterly that our lives may only
Church by Dwight J. Friesen Restless boy yanking at his neck tie Flipping through hymnals, Bibles and Sunday School papers No match for the sermon fidgets Those warming the pews trade yawns Waiting For the last song and benediction Long
Fake Plastic Trees by Radiohead, on The Bends Her green plastic watering can For her fake Chinese rubber plant In the fake plastic earth That she bought from a rubber man In a town full of rubber plans To get
failure by dwight j. friesen 2×4 skeleton Only partially dressed Weathered Rusted nailed Forsaken A castle never to be A dream awakened too soon? No moving vans No kids doing the “dance of the summer sprinkler” No humming lawnmower Or
Morning Poem by Mary Oliver Every morning the world is created. Under the orange sticks of the sun the heaped ashes of the night turn into leaves again and fasten themselves to the high branches– and the ponds appear like
