It’s become a tradition to share some personal poetry on Valentine’s Day. However, today I deviate from the usual discussion of romantic (eros) love and pivot to whichever expressions are communicated in the miniature collection below.
There is no particular theme these poems share. Two were hurriedly scribbled in the margins of a notebook as I rushed to escape pelting hail and rain in Rome a few months ago, another was completed last night, and two others have already been published—one in a magazine and another in last week’s essay.
I choose to share these today because, well, I’m proud of ably they turned out. Please enjoy and leave a comment, if you feel so inclined. As always, thank you for your support and encouragement.
Walk These Roman Ways
On a cold, hailstormed evening in colorless Rome
Teardrops from Heaven wash smooth cobblestones
Leading to ruins—her great Golden Age—
Now silent, a remnant, in steady decay
Straining above to gaze on this sight
Imagine! The chariots, the cheering, the fights!
Ritual cries to the god’s fruitless might
Blood from the Martyrs losing their lives
My brothers! My sisters! Dead and condoned!
Struck by an empire long passed dethroned
Half a circumference crumbling down—
Rejoice! The Martyrs receive their crowns
My America
Leaving our Western Mother’s Roman womb
Where, sweet in infancy, fair virtue nursed
The Mother country now lies stripped bare
Of valor where our nation first was birthed
Poems, plays, and plaster cracked on walls,
Symbols of culture, faded and pagan
My America bends to a greater call—
The simple claim that man must govern man
Let ancient empires boast of blood and stone
More fair the Daughter, forged in freedom’s might
She scorns the idle claim of her Mother’s throne
For two-and-fifty score, she’s proved her rights
My America, beautiful, shining, grand—
A Daughter nobler than her Mother’s land
Not A Love Poem
Now sealed in a baby blue box they rest Between fairytales and That Hideous Strength On a bookshelf—your letters—compressed A girl, deeply saddened prays on her knees Your treasures, once bringing infinite joy Now a stake in her heart you brutally bore A mere disenchantment freshly destroyed Gently, the Lord closes this door Your last letter featured selfish closure, Some arrogant stories, “a novel,” your “quest” Finished by your sharp, careless signature You neglect—she wants to wish you the best Pages of phrases she aches to reply Her heart freshly fractured, nimbly she writes You scoundrel—stripped her of dignity Now she’s embarrassed, uncovered, and weak Her response remains unsent and alone Sitting atop your white lettered throne There it will stay, stamped, ready to leave Forever untouched by your hard-hearted deeds Read! Here’s her final adieu To an arrogant fool An ignoramus No, you are simply her “brother in Christ” Befell by your pride, led by wandering eyes Handwritten confessions held in her clutches “Thanks for the friendship. We’ll be in touch.” Read! These words lying still in that coffer Poignant, tear-stained, afraid of your laughter Willing to leave and be held by your hands A bereaved little letter, never to send Her heart in those pages pours over, it bleeds If you wanted it, she’d given it—easily A blessing, you proved completely unworthy Over this, she surrenders her grief
Sea of Faith
The sea is alive this morning. Tide thunders in; silent sunlight awakens upon the banks of the Gulf Coast, the light whispers to the waves; the lighthouse stands, stable and strong, over the mighty sea. Come to the water’s edge, splendid is this sensation! Only, from these lapping waves, where the sea meets the flesh upon our feet, listen! You can hear its mighty song of life, flowing from the current’s commands and at its return, landing upon the shore, retreat, reflect, recoil, begin again, with its strengthening rhythm go, to bring his eternal note of mercy in. Emmanuel long ago heard this on the Sea of Galilee, and it brought into his mind the tragic story of humanity; we lived in constant misery, he claims us now by the early morning sea. The Sea of Faith, you claim, once was round Earth’s fragile core; in ignorance it grew, now, too false to restore. But if you listen closely to the undulating, groaning melody of Redemption's song, you’ll hear it roaring very mightily, never retreating drowning Satan’s hateful scheming. Friend, come, let us seek truth for one another! This world, which seems to ensnare in great evil schemes holds beauty, truth, and goodness despite the sinful, shattered dreams. Let go of the lies which hold fast to you! And, so, while we stand before his mighty throne, the windswept ripples, roaring water decree: If ignorance brings such peace, then ignorant, let us be.
You can read more about the Sea of Faith here.
Ode to Men
Lord, I adore that You created men
Firstborn of Your creation!
“It is not good for men to be alone,”
So, Lord, You gave them women
They’ve roamed the earth for centuries
And I confess: I find them odd
Endearing, yes….but often strange
A charming, vexing sort of flawed
Their oddities are baffling
Consider a hobby: fishing
Where they bait a hook and swing a line,
Just hoping one big fish swims by!
Once a bite is made, with exuberance and glee,
They hold it up to show the world
Proof, then promptly release
And when it comes to thinking
Oh! They think so differently!
Men favor logic, poise, and plans
Where’s drama? Where’s romance?
Lord, I’m not complaining
Men are entertaining
One builds a shelf or holds a door,
Another lifts a mammoth weight
From my aching shoulders
When they do these things Lord,
Suddenly —I’m swooning!
What I mean is this
Despite their curious habits,
Life is far richer, sweeter, greater—
With the men included
If you made it this far, let me know! Sometimes it feels weird sending these out to a void not knowing if anyone actually read them.