Father's Unseen Hands - By Jason Kirk Bartley

Father's Unseen Hands

Father's unseen hands,
they lead and guide me,
down my straight
and narrow way.

He opens doors he wants
me to go through.
I know he'll guide me
as I pray.

Father's unseen hands,
keep my feet from falling,
He orders every step I take.

I know He's always with me,
uttering a prayer through every
breath I take.

Father's unseen hands,
has helped me through
I'm not worthy to bear His name,
nothing I've done.
Called by the Master, called by the Son.
out of this world, to bear His cross,
suffer His shame, count it all joy,
life's not a game.
Father's unseen hands guide me on.
Victory won.


- Written by Jason Kirk Bartley

This poem can be used for free as long as the name of the author is included and the author is given credit.
If the poem is published online, please include a link to this post.

Helen and Paris By Anthony Luciani

Helen and Paris

Love be now your song, immortal one,
For now the war is over.
What once was love
Became the war of ages.
What once was war
Became peaceful ruined silence.
Among Schliemann’s tel
Sprang forth stories like weeds.
Tales of great adventurers
Who scaled those Cyclopian walls
And brought Troy to its knees.
A fair young maiden
Was the start of this great tragedy.
All for the love of a shepherd prince.
This maiden of the tripod city
Was called the fairest of the land.
Her beauty gave her great fame
And suitors came far and wide
To give her their name.
The shepherd prince chose Love
Over gray eyed intelligence and the bright arms of conquest.
He that gave the golden apple bending to Discord’s secret wish.
Bringing to his country
The invasion of a thousand ships.


- Written by: Anthony Luciani

My poem may be published online as long as I am given credit and a link is included to my website.
thegaiad.blogspot.com

A Love Knot - By Frances Nagle

A Love Knot

Picture hundreds, thousands, of threads,
as long as love is.

For instance, picture kindness – how smoothly it unfurls
when people care as much about each other as themselves.

Picture gentleness: when times are less than easy
a reassuring stream of soothing words.

And respect, the essence of being a partner,
each one delighting in the other.

And look at the joys and trials of being parents,
the challenge none of us is prepared for;

imagine the tough, flexible fibres
that nurturing a child together can create.

And see laced around and through and everywhere
diamond-twinkling filaments of laughter.
-
These profound, priceless connections start so simply –
with a smile, perhaps, or admiring glance.

Picture again these hundreds, thousands, of threads
 as long as love is; longer than life.

Today a knot is being tied
in the strands that ……... and ………

have started to spin out together.
A love-knot.   For ever.


- Written by: Frances Nagle

This poem can be used for free as long as the name of the author is included and the author is given credit.
If the poem is published online, please include a link to this post.

The Usefulness of Rain - By Anna McCarthy Hoffman

The Usefulness of Rain

The usefulness of rain is that
It speaks to every negative emotion
Millions of melodic drops
Thrown from the heavens
Dive-bombing steadily, gracefully
A cacophony of slaps and tings and torrents
Splattering against surfaces
Small fighting punches against the physical world
The white noise of a downpour
God’s tears in Morse Code
Tapping at the hardness of my heart
Gentle pats pricking my ears
Signalling to unconscious grievances
Inner struggles, hidden pain
Its time to let go
Its time to be washed of guilt,
Unforgiveness, disapointment
Let love find its way to parched places
Cracked and exposed crusts
On the skin of the soul
Those places ignored, remember
Nurture them, make peace with them
Release them
In the aftermath there is a great silence
A holy, lingering freshness
My spirit is enlivened with
The premonition of Spring.


- Written by: Anna McCarthy Hoffman

My poem may be published online as long as the author is given credit and a link is included to: regentsparkroad.wordpress.com

Musings over tea in the Morning - By Anna McCarthy Hoffman

Musings over tea in the Morning

What I like about writing,
What has always struck me
As a great modern truth,
Is that is knows no class,
No prejudice of person.
No age or qualification
Anyone can pick up a pen and
Many a hardened looser,
A forlorn deadbeat,
A crazy, insecure recluse,
The reckless youth
And flowery innocent
Many a wailing soul
Have put ink on paper
Type on leaflets
Words onto the screen
There is something just
In this conclusion
A fairness, a refuge
For the battered and curious
For the daunted dreamers
Sitting in secret places
Sending out messages of
Inner salvation.


- Written by: Anna McCarthy Hoffman

My poem may be published online as long as the author is given credit and a link is included to: regentsparkroad.wordpress.com

Little Candle in an Anglican Church - By Anna McCarthy Hoffman

Little Candle in an Anglican Church

The light of a solitary candle
Flickering in the church
A little light struggling
In the damp darkness
A warm flame against the cold stone
Of this quiet knave
Now a museum of departed souls
The mustiness, the ancient air
Breaths of generations lifted in unison
The melody of dead voices singing
Murmers of prayers collected, gathered
In the lofty corbelled ceiling
There is no sadness in the end of things
When the spirit moves from one place to another
Out of churches, into homes
Bowling alleys, theaters, humble community centers,
These new parishes love with the same love
Care and worship with equal fervor
I mourn not where candles flicker
For elsewhere they burn bright.


- Written by: Anna McCarthy Hoffman

My poem may be published online as long as the author is given credit and a link is included to: regentsparkroad.wordpress.com

Freemason - By Anna McCarthy Hoffman

Freemason

I hunger for stone
For modelled, sand cast brick
Fossilised marble and quarried rock
Carved lintels, doorways, window frames
Chiseled copings, stacked veneers
In precise patterns of arrangement
The work of the master mason
His rough hewn hands
Calloused fingers applying
Time tested ideas, ancient methods
Advancing his prospects
Accumulating knowledge
With respect for tradition
And a mind for innovation
In time, the laborer
Becomes the architect
Maker of human landmarks
Intellectual towers of achievement
Fit together, joined
Mortared in immortality
They didn’t let women
Inside the order of the compass
The Grand lodge, the fraternity
Guest houses with great fireplaces
Sacred meeting sites for the
Technically educated
Classically trained
You had to be free
A person of good standing
Most of all, a man
Many a proud and honorable fellow
Planned empires, birthed revolutions
Telling tales of knights and secret orders
Building Solomon’s temple
Under the banner of brotherly love
It took hundreds of years
Until I would become a freemason
A master of my trade
To have learned and earner respect
Through dedication to craft
To build my own temples
Make my mark at universities
Pursuing the good of mankind
By means of walls, shelters and roads
Planned cities, renovated waterfronts, public squares
I always wanted to be part of
The sacred meeting
To know the symbolism of the eagle
The cross, the star
The delicate pointed legs
Graceful curves of the compass
The right angle
The precise measurements of the rigid squire
In my own way
I have righted an ancient wrong
Taken my own oath
Stood under the gaze of the all-seeing eye
And been found on the level.


- Written by: Anna McCarthy Hoffman

My poem may be published online as long as the author is given credit and a link is included to: regentsparkroad.wordpress.com
 

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