Joseph Spring's Blog, page 3
April 8, 2020
Slow Progress
I found a slasher, rusted bad;
I scrubbed with resolution.
With stone I sharpened up the blade,
then swung it with volution.
I found that even with the tool
as fresh and sharp as ever,
to cut the grass was slow and grueled
my body with its tether.
I found a lesson hidden there:
that work has, from the ancients,
been blazing trails and felt unfair
for progress comes with patience.
April 2, 2020
The Leopard
Viscous cat as warmday honey
over rocks the leopard
flows in waves of fur soft tread
and drains away to grass
March 20, 2020
Ebenezer 2020
Upon the shores of water still
I found a stone made straight and smooth
by tool and eye of mason past.
The sand beneath was soft and damp
and with a branch I dug a hole
sufficient for the stone to stand.
Then with a fulcrum, up I raised
that stone to mark the days til now
and Ebenezer on it scrawled.
The stone in sand will not long stand
but days have gone and rooted fast
as will the future roll and fix
I fix my eyes, through hazing toil
and deepest rest, devotion, strife,
renew my strength and lean on grace.
(His grace has brought me safe thus far
and He will lead me home).
March 2, 2020
Jerusalem Glass
The second of a pair
of special wine glasses
made of Jerusalem crystal
soft and misted,
with twists
of red like Jupiter clouds,
and speckles of blue rain
broke
into pieces nine and half
years after our wedding day.
They were
beautiful.
February 29, 2020
She shines
Carrying on, carrying child and calm head,
bearing bump, bearing burdens of friends,
keeping up, feasting on the word of God:
how she does is how does she do
February 27, 2020
Jilted Jesus
In October, I was making my way through Kings and Chronicles, which for the first time I really experienced as truly gripping reads. And this brought me once again to Jeroboam and his lingering legacy of wicked idolatry. I wrote this poem while frustrated with Sin and wilful sins. Determination, intention, and dusting off must yet find us at the feet of Christ, needing real grace and forgiveness.
Jilted Jesus
By the image and afterimage of all my chosen griefs I,
eager for money, mad for Martha’s woe
and sitting
in the seat lazy to the point
of hating one and also the other,
do now stand up and walk.
And I walk in the ways
walk
in the ways in the
ways of the
w-ays of
Jeroboam
as ever and ever they did.
In the counsel of the wicked
and their own hearts’ guiding
man walked and stood and sat.
O light in darkness
counsel of good, move my feet
To keep in step.
Swiftly bring savour, heart’s desire
Favour, conscience, to whet my eyes
To wonderful way
O Jilted Jesus!
Mercy! my
days.
February 14, 2020
Red-throated Wryneck
This is a bit over-the-top. But for the sake of getting back into writing, I think a bit of exaggeration is alright. The Red-throated Wryneck is a stunning little bird, shy and rarely seen.
Inbetween it’s visits, we do have plenty of others to watch for. The Paradise Fly Catchers may return soon, I think. And we’ve actually been wonderfully treated with the return of the remarkable African Green Pigeons this week, gorging themselves heavy on the ripe orange berries next door.
Red-throated Wryneck
A year I’ve awaited your return
O russet love, how shall I lure
– a wonder, every heart beat yearns –
you back? Come south, I can’t endure!
Twice my eyes your life have seen.
Twice your auburn breast admired,
loved your specks with stripe between,
your dancing, wherever you desired.
Verdant verdure, you marked the scene
burnt in my heart. I adjure,
come back and strike once more this green
with dark demure rustling pure.
Bring your drab and secret gown
of leaves’ investiture, your crown.
Image credit: Thomas Varto Nielsen https://www.africanbirdclub.org/afbid/search/birddetails/species/1056/20887
January 18, 2020
On hearing the swallows’ song
A field of wheeling notes
and sounds,
black speckles darting
gainst a cloud
lit golden grey,
night’s morning shroud,
which scoops and sends
their chorus down:
The ripples fall,
from tinkling flight
of singing swarm
at tallest height,
as, all devout,
their windsung rites
escape the heavens,
and alight
on me
and bright my lowly face
by way of sky’s excited rain –
a sweet arpeggiated skein
which calls me forth to fly and play.
Now caught,
adorned with awe, absorbed,
I strain enamoured eyes
and more;
if only one
would deign to fall
and scrape my sole
away from all
that holds me
far below that throng
of swallows
scraping anvil strong,
performing
all the evening long –
mere motes
composing purest song.
December 12, 2019
Rain-wolves
The clouds with growls of rain-wolves rumble,
a wide surprise that shakes men’s souls
from flashes, gnashes, hearts run humble
neath ceilings that leak though howling holes
and pounding sounds on surest shelters
to shake and make our fensters fall.
The pack attacks, with puffs and pelters
to rush as gushes, air-wolves all.
What are your thoughts on this piece? To me it feels incomplete, but I wanted to share it with you in the meanwhile.
It’s been a month of many snippets and only a handful of full length poems, none of which are ripe for putting online, at least yet. So I’ll appreciate your comments on Rain-wolves. Thanks.
November 14, 2019
On reading at night
Stack them all upon my head
as I down drowsy on this bed
do beg for eyes of light and day
instead of deep top deathlids sway
and sink in shades of pages grey;
all worlds within the waters weigh
a-tempting drifting, Jesus pray
my life come more than Jack no play;
please prop me up and help me stay
even, upright, night I may
enjoy the swash and ocean spray
yet keep the tide of books at bay.
If all is gift, no gain when dead,
a page into my dreams I’ll thread.