Poems, Image, Songs, Expressions
All things rising, all things sizing / Mary seeing, sympathising / With that world of good,/ Nature's motherhood. / Their magnifying of each its kind / With delight calls to mind / How she did in her stored / Magnify the Lord.
When I looked towards the farm this afternoon, through the fog I could just catch sight of the farmer in his tractor, as he drove backwards and forwards in the field, turning the soil to make it ready to sow seeds and plants for his autumn crop. Unfortunately, the weathermen are forecasting frost next week, so some things may be delayed.
Greetings from Alaska, It's Palm Sunday, the beginning of Holy Week, so to remember Jesus entering into Jerusalem, this parish joins the other churches in the neighbourhood and they do a walk together with their little donkey. The temperature is only 6F, but at least it's bright and sunny. See the poem JERUSALEM by Nizar Qabbani.
This morning I went back to the cobbler's shop where I'd left my black walking shoes last Friday. What a good job he's made of them - new soles, heels and inside lining - £6. Afterwards I was thinking about Lent and how confession is a little bit like a visit to the cobblers. This poet from Russia seems to think so too.
This poem was written by an Indian doctor, a catholic who enjoys writing poetry in his spare time. He said he'd love to be Poet Laureate for India some day. Train journeys are always interesting. Perhaps Lent is like a journey too.
I hope you'll like this. I think he's comparing the Pope's departure to a flight into space - that's putting it in very simple terms ! The poem does it so much better. See the comments too.
Every moment, every location and engagement can become a time and place for encountering God. So, amongst other things, I hope to make 2013 a Celtic and Franciscan tinged Lent and pray that I may take time each day to pay attention and celebrate the wonder of creation: to sense the changes taking place in myself, others and the world and even those changes I cannot see.
Lone flower, hemmed in with snows and white as they,/ But hardier far, once more I see thee bend / Thy forehead, as if fearful to offend, / Like an unbidden guest. Though day by day, / Storms, sallying from the mountain-tops, waylay / The rising sun, and on the plains descend;...
"He shall feed His flock like a shepherd,/ And He shall gather the lambs with His arm, with His arm./ And carry them in His bosom." The medows are covered these days with snow, but the love of the Lord transforms the snow into a warm mantle that protects, guides and feeds his flock. No winter will overcome his life-filled care.
"Dear God our Heavenly Father, please guide and protect us and let your angels be our companions as we travel this week on our icy roads;" We all like the snow and enjoy its gentle landing in our rooftops, gardens and streets. However being so beautiful the snow brings also some difficulties to our lives. Someone from the North East has sent us this prayer.
Pieter Bruegel the Elder c. 1525 – 9 September 1569 The Procession to Calvary. We present a wonderful film of the painting, it is wonderful to watch.
I can't say I like shopping very much, especially the Christmas rush. This seems quite a dark poem but one that resonates with those who have a feeling of being on an ever speeding treadmill, when in reality, Christmas is about remembering God's arrival in our lives and sharing his love with one another. I recall T.S. Eliot poem.
Dave Brubeck, legendary jazz pianist and pioneer, died earlier today on the cusp of his 92nd birthday. Throughout his career, Brubeck defied conventions long imposed on jazz musicians. The tricky meters he played in “Take Five” and other works transcended standard conceptions of swing rhythm.?
Winter is blowing / into her hands. / from cold unblinking eyes / she handcombs wisps of silver hair and all around her we brace ourselves in the tremble of season change.
There is a certain magic / To the first frost of the year / When Autumn's golden halo / Has been kissed by Winter's cheer.
This month of luminous and golden ruin / Lit long ago the galleys and the guns. / Here is there nothing but such loitering rhyme / As down the blank of barren paper runs,
The air is full of after-thunder freshness, / And everything rejoices and revives. / With the whole outburst of its purple clusters / The lilac drinks the air of paradise.
And tonight the heavy earth is falling / away from other stars in the loneliness. / And yet there is Someone, whose hands / infinitely calm, holding up all this falling.
