poems
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Sitting down to breakfast early on February 18th, God served up a fresh poem just outside my windows. Wolf Creek had leapt its bounds and was slowly creeping up the lawn as a result of the hard rains and melting snows of multiple weeks. In the midst of attending my sons’ basketball tournaments, filing taxes,…
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Though it may seem odd to some to return to the stable on Epiphany, it’s the culmination of the celebration of Christmas, and, personally this year, a reminder of my late mother who passed away five years ago on New Year’s Day. According to NationalToday.com: “Epiphany is a Christian feast day celebrating the revelation of…
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As I hinted in my last post, I had an unforeseen trip to the optometrist last Wednesday. What I initially thought was a pernicious eyelash playing hide-and-seek beneath my eyelid ended up being a two-day ordeal that led to the removal of a minuscule calcification that had been abrading my cornea. And though I can’t…
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We’ve begun Charles Dickens’s A Christmas Carol in British Literature, and as we plumb the depths of Ebeneezer Scrooge’s character, I am reminded of how easily we can be distracted from the things that are truly most important in life. Indirect characterization often speaks louder than any direct statement made about one’s character. Watch how…
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At the end of the summer, I bought a bonsai tree. I planned to bring it to school to enrich the ambiance of my classroom (so much wall-to-wall gray!). For a few weeks, it served as the unique centerpiece of our kitchen table. With all of the light in the observatory (our dining/living room area),…
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Last Sunday brought the first true snowfall to our region of Western Pennsylvania. I came outside to find my younger sons flitting about the driveway, mouths open wide, chasing the elusive snowflakes. In all honesty, they didn’t have to try that hard. The air was aflutter with crystalline moths; our tongues, the warm branches upon…
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Sky brought a caterpillar to class. Shortly before my seventh period British Literature course began, Sky introduced me to her caterpillar (Fred, I believe she named him), a token from her lunch outside in the park. Rather than send her back outdoors to return the woolly bear to its rightful domain, I allowed her to…
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When I began crafting this poem, I fully intended to mimic the style of Geoffrey Chaucer’s “General Prologue” to The Canterbury Tales: “When that August with his beastly heat…” However, I found the set meter and rhyme too restricting for the random wanderings of a father and his young sons up and down the stream…
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Last Sunday, I started mulling over the phrase “marionette me.” I’ve always been impressed by the master marionettests who can bring puppets to life through the subtle, intentional movement of strings, operating unseen. I guess I’ve always appreciated puppets. I was raised on Sesame Street and, more importantly, The Muppet Show. I used to love…
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I admit that I don’t handle myself nor others well when I’m frustrated, tired, or just haven’t taken some time to feed my soul. I feel guilty, honestly, when I take the time to sit down and write poetry, let alone create these posts, when I have six children, a wife, a job, and many…
the deepening ground 