Mark A. McDonald
Into the peasant Love’s illumined fields,
Where luxuries are pigeon’s feathers,
Flowers wild, and all that nature’s foison yields;
Where timeless odes of ancient wise, soul’s greatest pleasures,
Are as morning’s pearled dewdrops, roses treasures;
Where through wand’ring valley flows the living water’s streams,
In seven pools through seven fonts successively;
By mossed banks a songbird ever sings,
As hov’ring o’er to dip and drink come royal honeybees.
Words Given With A Single Yellow Flower
Mark A. McDonald
One blessing of the field,
From past bouquets somehow left out,
And yet ‘is colors, in Spring’s ending sealed,
Ought not be forgot–
So shaped and painted like the peaking summer’s sun,
‘is extract in remembrance might,
When ‘is body’s dried and gone,
On some dawn’s solitude alight,
Or balm an evening sorrow like the north wind’s song.
On the Two in Homer Said To Be Like Immortal Goddesses
Of Love: from Ages Timeless, Ever to Earth Unremembered.
Mark A. McDonald
Sight stirred remembrance of a rose,
In secret silence, shroud till death
One of many souls,
Would prove, as frost on glass, to live
by thy breath.
What that the kings of nations come,
To spill their treasures at her feet,
And ancient heroes rush as moths to flame
To seal mortality’s defeat–
That back through whence we came would move
Achian princes, great and droves;
What light awakens lover’s loves?
What sets the chimera aglow?
That even counselors of ancient Troyan race,
O’erlooking her besieged fortress,
Said “terrible the likeness of her face
Onto immortal goddesses,”
Still “let us return her from this place,”
Lest by one prince should fall
All Priam’s palaces.
But wondrous is to tread the night
In secret hope of love.
Through ways transformed in Diane’s scattered light,
Mere wooded field to sacred groves,
Where purple midnight’s dewy air awaits
Dawn nuptials with the sun–
To stand on center of the sphere,
Aprayer that Thine on earth be done.
Now silence’s harmonies to hear
Call back to oaken chambered home
And to the crimson tears
Of love from ages timeless,
Ever to earth unremembered.
Then sunrise starts dawn’s breeze,
Flamed colors of the sky unfold,
Waking all the field’s birds to song,
And gilding the evergreens in gold.
And as a log, faint embers bearing,
Ash entombed to hold the seed of flame,
Odysseus himself in leaves was buried,
Cast ashore the isle of Phiakians,
Then awakened to behold the Scherian princess, Nausikaa,
Who, in form and beauty, among maidens stood
“Like to immortal goddesses,”
Or Palm stump’s sprig once seen
Among the holy Delians,
Sight stirred to his remembrance.
Still, otherwise unmoved, the wise Athena’s friend
Hid embers kindled into silence,
Though Scheria’s sceptered king
Would make him heir to poet’s islands.
So, life newfound of hopes despaired,
Wishing her the blessings known to men,
Toward his olive posted bed,
In promise never to forget her name.
Old Man’s Poem
In the end
All things are still, a womb of silence:
Sitting by a bubbling fountain, and the soul’s silence
Lips stilled from speech for an eternity.
Blankets of snow keep warm the virgin earth
And all the motions of the soul have found repose.
What a time of toil it was-
And festival of mirth-
Now covered in the days gone by
As snowflakes fall to earth.
Knowledge of the Soul
Knowledge of the soul
In soul’s own book is wrapped
In papers manifold
proportions, harmonies of kind
The lives of noble kings and queens unfold
The images divine.
The light on man awakens her
Emerging beauty to behold in time
The hero’s penance wakens her
And clears the eye of mind.
Knowledge of the soul
Is wrapped in books its own
Recalled anew to each each time
A dance ensouled
Of memory and mind.
As in a Glass, or Through Love Shown
The Creator wished to have another
That His joy be filled.
And so there came to be
Man and this world.
And His self-knowing:
The Most High, how he loves her!
Immaculate, yet somehow of
A human form, a body of
The angels and the souls of man above.
“The Lord is with thee,” “blessed
among women,” she,
Of His own generation mother-
His word, of Man the son.
He, with soul eternal and immaculate.
These things as in a glass are shown:
How my beloved fills my joy!
His image being-
Two together, known and knowing.
Their dance entire made
For His revealing.
Poem VII: Melchizedek
Or: How did Abram’s ram get caught in the thicket to begin?
Climbing Mount Moriah
Looking for lost ram, his friend.
He fears him to be caught somewhere
In thicket or in briar, Shem.
Running low on wine and bread,
It’s late, to go home time instead.
It maybe that the Lord had need-
Or caught there by some lion’s greed-
That unholy sacrifice be brought to end
Making this the Holy Land.
5 thoughts on “Poetry”
I just read the first couple poems and I must say you write way better than I, you write poetry the way it’s supposed to be written – with sound. I’m envious of your many talents. I’ll definitely be back to read the rest
Nicely done! Is it a deliberate choice to leave out a like button on your blog?
Yes. WordPress collects information from all non-wordpress visitors who try to like anything. We have a discussion in their “forum” about this. Hence the blog “Hey WordPress, get your toll booth out of my driveway.” It took months, and a lot of self doubt to figure this out. Mr. McShane, on the about page, noticed immediately and paid with his info to comment. They produce a very nice driveway to the internet, then use the power of their position to shake people down. Congress allows this because the internet companies are so rich, and give “campaign contributions.” I cannot yet afford to sue over these things, so we will have to elect a new Congress over the next two to six years: my representative will do nothing. That is U.S. politics! It gets much worse, as I am blocked from all search engine traffic, oh, except for certain accounts, which get through fine. On Antidepressants, my taffic is 114/ word of mouth to 2 or 4 search engine visitors. Meanwhile, people in Flint eat lead, as do people in Kalamazoo and Kansas. Pretty neat, huh?
I have removed the video of Bearspawprint, to pending, as it may be disturbing to some young viewers, though I do appreciate her comment. The video is a German song about one who does not want to be an angel, because the writer thinks the angels are all lonely and afraid of falling out of the clouds. While the writer has not considered the Biblical angels, such as the Zoa, Gabriel and Raphael, the song is very beautiful and interestingly strange, surely original, never considered before by those who think on angels. We hope this has nothing to do with fedibae, which is an acronym for the federal bureau of investigation, except that ae should be ea. I always misspell bureau, though I have looked it up a few times! Apologies especially for names that I misspell too. (Names are often irrationally spelled to begin with, because the first to spell them were often illiterate, and so spellings vary)
Thank you, that is very beautiful, and makes for a nice comment. It is a little scarry, but that makes it grab ya. Here’s the thing: It may really be this way: The soul is already immortal. There is nothing we can do about that. For humans, as distinct from angels, what we do, especially with the life of our souls, we are stuck with, because that it what we become, or what we come to be. Death is either nothing, like a sleep, or truly is like a crossing over. What we do to one another is what we do to our true souls or our true selves. When we do cross over then, guess what, we have to live in the light of the truth. If we have done “Love one another,” and spent our time helping each other, this is what we are. If we hurt another, this we do to our true selves, and in the light of truth, we’re gonna fry! That is why heaven and hell is an image, like there are two “places,” though place may not pertain “over there.” We cannot think beyond space and time, cause these are the parameters of the imagination, but it may well be even better than place. Its like, where is time? Everywhere and no where? How long does space last? Doesn’t pertain, just is, as though it were God’s Body or something. So, were stuck then with ourselves in the light of the truth and that is the truth about good, just and right. The bad guys fry from the presence of the Lord, which we are not fit to enter. Hence, forgiveness. The story, again as an image, is that Jesus gains for us forgiveness, so perhaps we won’t fry so badly despite all the times we have hurt another soul. So Jesus taught “Guard your brother like the pupil of your eye.” We teach “How can you expect the Lord to have mercy on you, if you will not even have mercy on your dog?
Angels, though, I do not understand how they could fall, and I suspect that it is the child in the soul, the one reborn in Baptism, these are not like all set and ready to go to God and recieve bliss as a reward like payday, but these are even, more in danger if they hurt another soul. Malice is weird. We say “Why would anyone ever want to do that to another person?” It has no natural explanation in terms of the body, which seeks animal things like food, comfort, a little nookie, etc. But why would anyone even want revenge, let alone the random malice evil people do to innocents just because they are mad at God? What do they think they are getting out of it? Power is similar. Why be a tyrant? But then they are stuck with it, themselves, and for eternity if they do not somehow repent, if this is even still possible.
This song, though, is again very beautiful, and raises a bit of a scary question. One can really feel the angels alone and scared to fall. But the good angels, why would they be alone? Because they did not love one another, but spent all their time only concerned with themselves? And again, If they were really concerned with themselves, they would not have spent their lives like big fish trying to eat little fish deluded about the bigger fish that is about to eat them. They would have helped that old lady next door bring in her groceries, and taken home a joy worth more than minimum wage! All that sorrow in their lonely hearts that cannot be dispelled alone just might start to dissolve. Then, they might even risk their safety to prevent a mugging, and finally, like Martin Luther King, even be granted the opportunity to lay down their lives for their friend, or even people they do not know and who are not yet born, as that man did even for us, so we could learn to do it.
Then, if death is just a like a dreamless sleep, they would have had the best of the moment, and if they are stuck with themselves, they would have, well, a long tome to enjoy scrolling through their memories!
What on earth are those Germans up to these days?!
Thank You again, the whole thing is quite beautiful, like the beauty of tragedy
Blessings and peace to you, and I’ll be seein’ ya around the neighborhood.
Is not that takingthemask off guy just way cool!
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