George Herbert Poems and Posts Roundup:

• Pastor and Poet George Herbert (1593-1633)
• Favorite Poems by George Herbert
• Good Friday Poems by George Herbert
• Holy Saturday Poem by George Herbert
• Easter Sunday Poems by George Herbert

“BOOKENDS” – by Ray Fowler

On frosty winter mornings when I rise
And venture forth to meet the stillborn dawn,
The prickly air pokes sharply at the flesh
And sweeps the dust of slumber from my eyes.

When winter falls with force upon my home
And icy fists rap sharp on window panes,
I draw my blanket snug about my heart
And let the warmth of sleep invade my bones.

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Click here for more poems by Ray Fowler.

Here is a Christmas poem by Keith Patman from Jeff Johnson’s Centerpoint – Poetry & Music For Christmas CD. (“An album created to prepare oneself for the celebration of Christ’s birth over the entire Advent season. Centerpoint features Johnson’s music score of traditional and original Christmas melodies (which includes flutist, Brian Dunning) with poetry by Keith Patman read by Dallas McKennon. McKennon is famous for his character voice work with Walt Disney Productions.”)

“SNOW” – by Keith Patman (©1980)

Was it a cold awakening Christmas morning
In a wooden trough,
In spite of straw and swaddling clothes and angel songs?
That was not to be the last time you’d be laid upon the wood
(There were Herods, Judases from the start
Among the stars and shepherds).
And did they smile, those simple folk,
And kiss your tiny hands and weep delight?
They’d touch those hands again someday,
Believing you through cracks and scars.
Then oh! the million Christmas mornings
When you’d lie, a babe again,
Beneath a million million trees
And hear the countless tongues chanting your name.
And oh! the white snow on black shingles
Where icy crystals capture windows
And fires glow and mistletoe is wreathed and strung.
But ah . . . will they remember crimson
Dripping from the iron nails
And will they pray and will they know
A whiter white than
Snow?

HT: Rusty Lopez at New Covenant

Click here for poems by Ray Fowler.
Click here for more Christmas related posts.

John Milton wrote the following poem when he was only fifteen years old. (He would later go on to write the epic poem, “Paradise Lost.”) The poem is based on Psalm 136 and was later made into a hymn by church organist John Bernard Wilkes.

“ALL PRAISE TO GOD” – by John Milton

Let us, with a gladsome mind,
Praise the Lord, for he is kind:

For his mercies aye endure,
Ever faithful, ever sure.

Let us blaze his name abroad,
For of gods he is the God:

He, with all-commanding might,
Filled the new-made world with light:

All things living he doth feed,
His full hand supplies their need:

He his chosen race did bless
In the wasteful wilderness:

Let us then with gladsome mind
Praise the Lord, for he is kind.

 
This is just a selection of verses from the poem. The actual poem is much longer, repeating the lines “For his mercies aye endure / Ever faithful, ever sure” as part of each stanza.

Note: Click here to learn about The Bible Memory Version, a new tool developed especially for Bible memory.

Any Greek students out there? You should appreciate this little poem written by a first-year student of Scot McKnight [cited in McKnight’s New Testament Greek Grammatical Analysis, 76, n. 6.]

Greek is a language,
At least it used to be.
It killed off all the Greeks
And now it’s killing me.

All have died who ever spoke it.
All have died who ever wrote it.
All will die who ever learn it.
Blessed death, they surely earn it!

Aaaaah, the good old days of learning Greek. I remember working as a night watchman in seminary from 11 p.m. to 7 a.m., racing home, showering and eating breakfast, and then getting to Greek class by 8 a.m. Only by the grace of God I got through!

HT: Illumination

Related Posts:

• My Embarrassing First Day at Seminary
• Click here for poems by Ray Fowler.

This week marks the anniversary of the atomic bombings that took place at Hiroshima and Nagasaki on August 6 and August 9 in 1945. In remembrance of these events, here is a poem I wrote called “The Creative Bomb.”

“THE CREATIVE BOMB” – by Ray Fowler

The two-faced god of Janus peered
Intently to the right
And on his left perceived a boy
Who craved creative flight.

With powers of flux unknown to man,
And often blamed as chance,
He touched the lad’s still waiting brain
And watched the neurons dance.

Thoughts ravaged his right hemisphere,
Then, quiet as a theft,
Stole fast across the cortex
To be stored within the left.

Opposing forces caught in time
Wreaked havoc on his brain.
Janusian thoughts negated rhyme;
The contrapuntal reigned.

Destruction, death and severed souls
He could not vindicate.
Aha! Why could he not invent
A bomb that would create?

In chemistry and medicine
We have our antidotes;
The harmful drug may save a life
When taken in small dose.

So why not have a bomb that could
Explode a song of joy,
Shatter new frontiers of thought,
Create, and not destroy?

If dropped on Nagasaki such
A bomb would surely find
That space-time point of harmony
Before the dreadful grind.

No mushroom cloud of measured rage,
Instead our bomb revised
Would bloom a rose of beauty far
Above the watchful skies.

“But stop!” they say. “Review, and let
Your noble neurons rest.
You’ve failed to yield a product –
Creation’s acid test.

The bomb you praise does not exist;
You ponder it in vain.
Perhaps you are the product of
An overactive brain!”

“I have no bomb to give to you
And know not where to start.
And so with failure weighing deep
And heavy on my heart,

I humbly submit to you
(Correct me, if I’m wrong)
This simple poem, now become
One big, creative bomb.”

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Click here for more poems by Ray Fowler.

I have now added a Writings page to the blog. You can find the Writings tab at the top of the blog just to the right of the Stats tab. This page will collect various writings that I have produced over the years – articles, poems, songs, etc. (Maybe I will even get around to posting my doctoral thesis here some day – a guaranteed cure for insomnia!) Right now I just have a few poems posted, but this is an area of the blog that I would like to develop in the future.

I found this poem earlier today at the WorldMag Blog. Very touching.

“THEY SIT TOGETHER ON THE PORCH” – by Wendell Berry

They sit together on the porch, the dark
Almost fallen, the house behind them dark.
Their supper done with, they have washed and dried
The dishes–only two plates now, two glasses,
Two knives, two forks, two spoons–small work for two.
She sits with her hands folded in her lap,
At rest. He smokes his pipe. They do not speak,
And when they speak at last it is to say
What each one knows the other knows. They have
One mind between them, now, that finally
For all its knowing will not exactly know
Which one goes first through the dark doorway, bidding
Goodnight, and which sits on a while alone.

Click here for poems by Ray Fowler.

The Billy Graham Evangelistic Association is offering the commemorative book, Sitting by My Laughing Fire, by Ruth Bell Graham, free of charge for the asking.

Ruth’s love for the written word and her devotion to family and God often flowed together. Of this collection of her poems, Ruth Bell Graham wrote, “I have always loved poetry. … [These poems] span nearly half a century of living, beginning with a thirteen-year-old’s impression of the ever-present graves in China, through high school in Korea, college in America, early love poems, marriage and motherhood, and on up.”

We are pleased to offer—at no charge—this classic volume of her poetry, chosen and assembled by Ruth herself. It is our prayer that you will encounter all of Ruth’s passion for words, friends, family, and her Lord and Savior Jesus Christ within its pages.

Just follow this link to order: Ruth Bell Graham – Commemorative Book

HT: Eclexia

Note: For samples of Ruth’s poetry, see Ruth Bell Graham – Poems.

Update: The poem “Home Address” has been added to the comments below.

Update 2: Free commemorative book of Ruth’s poems – click here for more information.

Noel Piper shares the following poems from Ruth Graham over at the Desiring God blog. They are both from Ruth’s book Footprints of a Pilgrim.

The first poem is about choosing to love through the difficult times when Billy would have to leave her and the children to go on the road.

Love
without clinging;
cry
if you must—
but privately cry;
the heart will adjust
to the newness of loving
in practical ways:
cleaning
and cooking
and sorting out clothes,
all say, “I love you,”
when lovingly done.

So—
love
without clinging;
cry—
if you must—
but privately cry;
the heart will adjust
to the length of his stride,
the song he is singing,
the trail he must ride,
the tensions that make him
the man that he is,
the world he must face,
the life that is his.

So
love
without clinging;
cry—
if you must—
but privately cry;
the heart will adjust
to being the heart,
not the forefront of life;
a part of himself,
not the object—
his wife.

So—
love!

The second poem is about losing a loved one and reflects what the Graham family must be experiencing right now with the loss of Ruth.

A house
is not the same
when she who made it home
is gone;
it looks
as it has always
looked
and yet
forlorn.
There is an emptiness
within,
a silence
where her chuckle was.
From now on
it is me alone
who once was “us.”

Related articles:

• Billy Graham – The Song
• A Quote from Billy and a Quote from Ruth
• Ruth Graham Passes Away
• Billy Graham Museum Opens in Charlotte, NC
• The Day I Met Billy Graham

This little ditty popped into my head the other night while walking from the kitchen to the bedroom. I don’t know where it came from, so I can’t give it back. By the time I reached the bedroom it was finished, so I recited it for my wife. She liked it, so I posted it here.

“THE MAGIC DRESSER” (A Poem for Mother’s Day) – by Ray Fowler

I have a magic dresser; it has a magic drawer.
I take my clean clothes out of it and then go back for more.
I only take things out of it; I never put them in.
But every time I open it, my clothes are clean again.
I don’t know why this happens; I’m not sure how it works.
But if I forget my wife on Mother’s Day, I must really be a jerk!

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Click here for more Poems by Ray Fowler.
Click here for more Random Thoughts.

Here is a poem I wrote for Easter a number of years ago. I hope you enjoy it, and I wish you a very happy Easter!

“EASTER” – by Ray Fowler

Weave a crown of thorns; spit on love incarnate;
Stretch his flesh against the splintered surface and
Strike the nail’s head. Crushed for our sins,
The Savior breathes ever slower.

Breath of Spirit pierces the tomb’s dark chamber;
Blinding flash illumines the corpse now rising,
Standing, dancing, joyfully living love for
Those who had slain him.

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Click here for technical notes on the poem “Easter.”
Click here for more poems by Ray Fowler.