It’s been a while since the last post on this blog – a gap originally forced by a bout of tendonitis which made writing/typing very painful, and then prolonged by a bout of lethargy.
Posts will now resume, albeit not necessarily with the same frequency or regularity as previously for a time. I’m considering some tweaks I may make to the appearance and content of the blog for its next season, and will also try to spend some time populating a back catalogue of content, particularly in respect of some of the regular prompts provided by other sites over the past few months.
“A waiting person is a patient person. The word patience means the willingness to stay where we are and live the situation out to the full in the belief that something hidden there will manifest itself to us.”
― Henri J.M. Nouwen
Each day pens more detail
In the story of my life
Its ups and its downs
Its trivia and melodrama
Yet I hold no power
As an author’s quill does
No choice as the reader might exert
Unable to skip chapters
Or jump to the epilogue
I journey slowly through the story
Weary burdened traveller,
Stepping from page to page
Annotating the facts of the past
With no foresight of future lines
The NaPoWriMo.net challenge for Day 29 of Na/GloPoWriMo2017 was to take one of your favorite poems and find a very specific, concrete noun in it; then spend five minutes free-writing associations – other nouns, adjectives, etc. and use your original word and the results of your free-writing as the building blocks for a new poem.
My father knows the proper way
The nation should be run;
He tells us children every day
Just what should now be done.
He knows the way to fix the trusts,
He has a simple plan;
But if the furnace needs repairs,
We have to hire a man.
My father, in a day or two
Could land big thieves in jail;
There’s nothing that he cannot do,
He knows no word like “fail.”
“Our confidence” he would restore,
Of that there is no doubt;
But if there is a chair to mend,
We have to send it out.
All public questions that arise,
He settles on the spot;
He waits not till the tumult dies,
But grabs it while it’s hot.
In matters of finance he can
Tell Congress what to do;
But, O, he finds it hard to meet
His bills as they fall due.
It almost makes him sick to read
The things law-makers say;
Why, father’s just the man they need,
He never goes astray.
All wars he’d very quickly end,
As fast as I can write it;
But when a neighbor starts a fuss,
‘Tis mother has to fight it.
In conversation father can
Do many wondrous things;
He’s built upon a wiser plan
Than presidents or kings.
He knows the ins and outs of each
And every deep transaction;
We look to him for theories,
But look to ma for action” ― Edgar A. Guest
How sweet are His words
Ears test words as the tongue tastes food
Taste and see that the Lord is good
For Day 28 of Na/GloPoWriMo, NaPoWriMo.net reminded us that many poems explore the sight or sound or feel of things, and Proust famously wrote about the memories evoked by smell. The prompt challenge was to write a poem that explores your sense of taste – this could be a poem about food, or wine, or even the oddly metallic sensation of a snowflake on your tongue.
This poem drew inspiration from the Old Testament, and in particular lines from Job and the Psalms.
"He brought me to his banquet hall and raised the banner of love over me. Restore my strength with raisins and refresh me with apples! I am weak from passion... His left hand is under my head and his right hand caresses me" - Song of Solomon 2:4-6
Theoreo means, in New Testament Greek, to wonder, ponder, or 'chew over.' Theore0's are my reflections on current issues, facing the Church and Christians. I frequently consider issues such as the relationship between faith and economic life, Christianity and leadership and, other ethical issues. Many of these issues are covered in a book I co-edited called Theonomics (available either through Amazon or direct from Sacristy Press). All views are my own. I aim to provoke and stimulate wider debate, for the common good and hope not to offend.