(A retelling of the story of Abraham and Isaac)
A weary journey, a wakeful night,
They left their camp before daylight
An old man carrying the weight of years
Wrinkled cheeks wet with tears
At hearing the young boy at his side
Prattle on with childish pride
That he alone had been chosen
To help his father on this mission.
Your pipe tobacco
Sears like your red beard
Against my skin
Enflaming
Swirling taut nostrils
Your smoky grey eyes
Promising new intrusions
Of incense-breathing flame
As we talk and the day softly fades
Into an Orient-soaked night
Where the moonflower opens and glows.
It’s good to be back at dVerse’s Poetics with guest host Jo who asks us to find inspiration in “a world of common scents”!
The Shadorma is a Spanish poetic form with a syllabic meter of 3/5/3/3/7/5
Thy Peace on Christmas Day
Christmas Day
finds me seeking peace
in prayer
in Your love
surrounding me as refuge
from what is not You
For Cee's FOTD (flower of the day): December 25, 2021 Check out her beautiful Peruvian Lily Cee says: "Don’t forget that my FOTD challenge accepts gardens, leaves and berries as well as flowers." Merry Christmas everyone!
Join us at Rochelle’s Friday Fictioneers. Rochelle asks that we use the photo prompt © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields and limit our words to 100 or less. Click on the frog to read more stories.Word count: 100
Everyone had left for home. Vikram remained standing by the freshly turned earth until high above the stars lit one by one.
He could no more make his legs stir than make the stars fall with his tears.
“A wedding for a first miracle. Ever wonder why?”
Aanya’s voice. Vikram closed his eyes. “No.”
“That day! That wine! Imagine! Rich, savory, fiery with a love stronger than death. You believe that?”
“I do.” His voice shook. “But ….”
“I’m not where you’re standing. The God that turns water into wine, turns mourning into dancing. Vikram, our dance has barely begun.”
Psalm 30: 11-12
You have turned for me my mourning into dancing;
you have loosed my sackcloth
and clothed me with gladness,
that my glory may sing your praise and not be silent.
O Lord my God, I will give thanks to you forever!
Song of Songs 8:6
Set me as a seal upon your heart,
as a seal upon your arm,
for love is strong as death,
jealousy is fierce as the grave.
Its flashes are flashes of fire,
the very flame of the LORD.
John 2:1-11
On the third day there was a wedding at Cana in Galilee, and the mother of Jesus was there.
Jesus also was invited to the wedding with his disciples.
When the wine ran out, the mother of Jesus said to him, “They have no wine.”
And Jesus said to her, “Woman, what does this have to do with me? My hour has not yet come.”
His mother said to the servants, “Do whatever he tells you.”
Now there were six stone water jars there for the Jewish rites of purification, each holding twenty or thirty gallons.
Jesus said to the servants, “Fill the jars with water.” And they filled them up to the brim.
And he said to them, “Now draw some out and take it to the master of the feast.” So they took it.
When the master of the feast tasted the water now become wine, and did not know where it came from (though the servants who had drawn the water knew), the master of the feast called the bridegroom and said to him, “Everyone serves the good wine first, and when people have drunk freely, then the poor wine. But you have kept the good wine until now.”
This, the first of his signs, Jesus did at Cana in Galilee, and manifested his glory. And his disciples believed in him.
A favorite Christmas carol of mine, full of spiritual food and delight! I first posted this on my sister blog, PilgrimDreams.com
Enjoy!
I had never heard this 18th-century Christmas carol until very recently but it has since been playing in my mind, at once familiar & fresh. Penned by Richard Hutchins in 1761, it has inspired music by, among many others, Elizabeth Poston in the last century and another performed by Lee Nelson & the Wartburg Choir in 2013. (I’ve posted both versions below.
The metaphor of the apple tree appears in the Song of Songs, when the bride says of her Beloved: “As an apple tree among the trees of the forest,/so is my beloved among the young men./With great delight I sat in his shadow, and his fruit was sweet to my taste” (Song 2:3).
View original post 514 more words
Come along and join in with Rochelle’s Friday Fictioneers. Rochelle asks that we use the photo prompt © Claire Fuller and limit our words to 100 or less. Click on the frog to read more stories.
The Smuggler of Rainbows
“It’s just a tire shop, Dad! This can’t be where we’re meeting the rainbow-smuggler!”
Inside, a cheerful woman in a colorful sari stood out of the rain, waiting.
“I’d like a rainbow,” Retnam said from her wheelchair. “Where are they?”
“They’re hiding in plain sight, my dear!” the rainbow-smuggler said, shrugging. “Just reach into a tire.”
Retnam did, pulling out a huge rainbow-colored taffy.
She laughed, then frowned.
“But it’s not REAL!” she cried.
“Look up, Retnam!” the woman said, pointing to the rain-cleared sky. “There will always be a rainbow over your head, even when you can’t see it.”
The Elfchen or Elevenie form, is a German-inspired poem of eleven words in five lines, with 1, 2, 3, 4 words, then 1 word again for the fifth and last line.
Jesus,
Your love
Holds me fast
Eternally to abide in
You.
Branch
Of David
From Jesse’s root
Return soon we pray
Amen.
Jeremiah 33:15
In those days and at that time I will cause a righteous Branch to spring up for David, and he shall execute justice and righteousness in the land.
John 15:9
“As the Father has loved me, so have I loved you. Abide in my love.“
1 Corinthians 16:22
Maranatha. Our Lord, come!
Late fall azaleas for Cee's FOTD (Flower of the Day)
Lisa is today’s host at dVerse’s Prosery, and says: "Your challenge, if you choose to accept it, is to incorporate the quote ["I dress in their stories patterned and purple as nigh" –from “When We Sing of Might,” by Kimberly Blaeser] into a piece of prose. This can be either flash fiction, nonfiction, or creative nonfiction, but it must be prose! Not prose poetry, and not a poem. And it must be no longer than 144 words, not including the title. (It does not have to be exactly 144 words, but it can’t exceed 144 words.)
Deathbeds
Their graves are trash bins, medical refuse after each organ is harvested, the doctor careful to preserve the parts but not the whole. There is money to be had. She knew all this. She had worked as one. But the children she had aborted were not real to her.
Until the day she lay dying.
Suddenly they appeared before her eyes, smiling their forgiveness, and she relaxed. They understood! There was a God in heaven after all. Why, she didn’t even have to forgive herself!
She stretched out her hands to them but they stood out of reach midst the children she herself had decided to keep.
Her children saw her eyes widen.
“I dress in their stories patterned and purple as night,” she whispered.
What stories, Mom?
“The ones I took from them. The ones I robbed them of. Oh God! They burn!”
Update: So far this year almost 40 million children have been killed by choice. The leading cause of death is by abortion, far surpassing all other causes. According to data compiled by the Worldometer, a reference website that monitors statistics on health, the global population, the use of resources and deaths in real-time, over 40 million abortions are performed worldwide annually.
A Badger Hexastitch is six lines of the following syllables in each: 2-4-6-6-4-2
The Book
Lies in darkness
Silent, unless You, O God,
Come and by Your Spirit
Open my eyes,
Send light.
Come along and join in with Rochelle’s Friday Fictioneers.
Rochelle asks that we use the photo prompt © LIsa Fox
and limit our words to 100 or less.
Click on the frog to read more stories.
Note on the players: Dante Bill is an allusion to his namesake from the Inferno; Mark Twain acts as Virgil, his writer-guide through hell. Neither has been consigned there.
Genre: Partial Epic
Word Count: 99
Dante Bill (colorful rapper): Dude, where’s the fire and brimstone? It’s freezing cold here.
Mark Twain (dead white male): Hell’s different from place to place.
What’s with the shrines there?
Shrines? Oh, toilets. That’s for . . . .
Yeah, why the big deal?
They’re the only ones in this area.
That stinks, man! Crowds of woke politicians and their virtue-signaling kool-aid drinkers jumping up and down like yo-yo’s. They could just go in the woods.
Problem is, it’s against the rules. Their punishment is that they have to follow the sign.
Where does it point?
To Satan’s toilet.
In caverns of the skies
broken nuts scattered their prize
dawn-bright baby dragons blue
between the fleece-clouds flew
to grab their sun-crowned delight
which storks and eagles’ flight
brought upwards where they grew
and sometimes they even knew
to breathe a warm “thank you”!
De Jackson asks us to write a quadrille (44 words) using some form of the word "crown" Click on Mr. Linky to join in!
This Jolly Beggar 