Joseph Spring's Blog, page 5

July 16, 2019

Calm

Then Haydn finds my head and puts a blind hand to my chin.
In the firmament is fixed the sun, majestic in triumph.
And my heart is settled
so small in the ceremony which proceeds there.
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Published on July 16, 2019 09:00

July 1, 2019

Perhaps today

Finnygowls on a slip of paper say
when the Lord will come: Perhaps today.



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Published on July 01, 2019 05:14

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.

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Published on June 27, 2019 06:45

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.

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Published on June 07, 2019 21:18

May 24, 2019

Easter Saturday

What a time to hold both mourning and fear:
 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.



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Published on May 24, 2019 11:00

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.

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Published on May 21, 2019 07:49

May 10, 2019

These Nice Guys

After Gwendolyn Brooks





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.
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Published on May 10, 2019 23:00

May 1, 2019

Justice is a River

If we dare, it can bear being dammed up
    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

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Published on May 01, 2019 01:05

April 28, 2019

Still Life: Piano

These silent white keys
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.
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Published on April 28, 2019 05:08

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

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Published on April 21, 2019 21:07