Joseph Spring's Blog, page 5
July 16, 2019
Calm
In the firmament is fixed the sun, majestic in triumph.
And my heart is settled
so small in the ceremony which proceeds there.
July 1, 2019
Perhaps today
when the Lord will come: Perhaps today.
June 27, 2019
Breath and bread
Breath is true, a rhythmic ripple
rocking the ceiling above my bed,
a cyclical sea, linking my lungs
to the ebb and the flow, the ceaseless tread
which marks the moon-wrung, sun-spun world
with high-lines and ox-bows, living and dead.
Dry one day, they shimmer again
like lungs and blood for breath and bread.
True I breathe, as rivers for seas,
living on moments of freshness fed –
never a surplus, yet heavenly peace
cradles the ripples, and soothes my head.
June 7, 2019
Gospel Flag
That eyes would see the dear design
unfolded in this gospel flag
which freely flies with fervent line
of crimson, stretching from the black
across its field, to fly-end white
to make the hands of men to wave,
for such a banner tells the height
of love Jehovah Nissi gave.
When hoisted up the blackened staff
the king paid out that blood-red line
and heaven’s royal flags flew half;
the Son was slain for wrath divine.
And now his hem of white we own,
which moves in gentle winds unseen
The gospel flag is always flown
for Christ our standard makes us clean.
May 24, 2019
Easter Saturday
surreal and sudden, from palms to passion,
mission at miserable end, the house
silent as passing round tea, with tears,
they awaited a knock, the Pharisees' fashion
of heartlessly seeking hopes to douse
in their doctrine, ignoring Abram's wonder:
that smoking vision of God down the row
of animal pieces, to show who would pay;
they forgot to consider that God would sunder
Himself for the covenant his people long broke,
that the Christ must die to become the way.
Yet so, with the skies, the followers wept,
thinking their leader crushed and gone
taken with cruelty by Calvary's arts.
What was Sabbath if Rome and the Pharisees swept
all aromas of liberty and hope thereupon
away with his promise from their sorrowful hearts?
Did they worship that day, with their minds in a tomb?
Did they eat of the Eucharist, recalling the plan
of his body and blood to be given and poured?
It seems that they didn't, for morning's grey gloom
surrounded the women with spices in hand
to fulful one last duty for their fallen lord.
Yes, Saturday held them in tumult and woes.
And Sunday rebuked them with folded clothes.
May 21, 2019
Alice in Wonderland Syndrome
My mouth is cavernous, and my hands anchors. In my fingers I feel a sprig of thyme, not there at all but a log nonetheless: Each finger a one-tonne sausage. How far is it to the corner of the ceiling? At least two hundred decibels, I say. Like the recurring childhood nightmare and mom’s soothing hushes blaring. How huge is the world, if it’s miles to the door? If people are shrunk and the floor breathes? My centre of gravity churns. Once, at dinner, my son asked me why I looked like I was next door. How are you doing that, Daddy? Smiling, not reeling, it was mild. And I feel the pitching as the volume sways.
May 10, 2019
These Nice Guys
NICE CHRISTIAN MAN.
A DIME A DOZEN.
These nice guys. They
forfeit the prize. They
get pushed around. They
carpet the ground. They
exist for others. They
strengthen their brothers. They
doubt their worth. They
inherit the earth.
May 1, 2019
Justice is a River
for a time, but it must roll on,
or the Highlands will drown in their hoarded double portion
withheld from the coastal plain.
Justice is relentless and heavy, yes fitful in youth
but in age diligent to the grave.
It seeks the sea, and runs over the land. The sea
beckons it, like blood from the ground:
"Come, justice, roll on! to the gavel and gallows,
to the rock at the shore where the lighthouse stands.
Come wash the feet of the ones in the shallows
or crash against the swashing tide
and rescue those deep in the chaotic sea."
cf Amos 5:24
April 28, 2019
Still Life: Piano
were once made of elephants' teeth.
And the chopsticks ones of ebony.
Which is a type of wood,
which we didn't know,
until Peter took lessons.
The piano we now have is all plastic and chipboard
beneath a smart black veneer,
black as the whole room was
before the electricity returned just now,
letting me make music once more.
April 21, 2019
Light and Fear
Fear is fleeter than light
Light is unpluggably loud
Few are fond of falling
Many are stubbornly proud
Light illumines the wrong
Ignorant shadows are soft
Fear and Pride are long
Contrition lifts aloft