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Doug Blair ADMIN II
CCW GOLD MEMBER POETRY CONTEST WINNER Posts : 644 Age : 73 Join date : 2013-02-03 Location : Waterloo, Ontario, Canada
| Subject: Good Prayer Ground Sun Feb 10, 2013 6:31 am | |
| Into the Cedars
I enter the cedar stand
With muffled footfall.
The Bay wind
Traveling at my side
Did not make it into the canopy.
Decomposition of years beneath.
Carpeted mosaic,
Dead-fall, granite, root-fingers, lichens.
Gnarled, ruddy sentries
In light-green camouflage,
Note my arrival.
Guarding the Past.
Guarding the Present.
Guarding the Peace.
Guarding the Plan.
A barking raven-my herald.
Doubtless, chipmunks and
White-tail freeze in their fashion,
Wondering if I mean harm.
Temperature drops a few degrees.
Shades are drawn.
Hospitable host, though shy.
Quietly checking out my manners.
I sense I must stand still,
Waiting.
Honouring timeless laws
Of territory.
As if to be waved in.
Frozen moment.
(Excepting only the
Carpenter ant dragging
Moth five-times-his-size
Along a fallen trunk.)
Some Conductor flips his baton.
Green-noise musical score resumes.
I am in.
Perhaps given the tour.
Nuthatch sidles around a trunk
To give me a peek.
Above, though hidden,
That clarion white-throated
Summer sound:
“Chee-chee-chee-Canada-
Canada-Canada.”
All around me traces,
Evidences
Of the continuing symphony.
Rabbit pellets.
Fox-fur snagged on a branch.
Tree-trunk porcupine lacerations.
Persistent flies
Around remnants of a red squirrel
Mishap.
Somewhere out there
The bright relentless sun,
Open Bay, lapping.
Sparkles in the marsh grass
At the sandy shore.
My Evinrude.
In here, community, concord, calm.
Occasionally, a burst of brilliance
Overhead.
As if Sun-God
Attempts invasion through the roof.
But the assault diffuses
Through lacy green
And settles disarmed,
Muted member of the carpet-floor.
How much more, noble red-man
Would have studied,
Sensed, smelled, heard:
He, in suit of two-year doeskin.
He, in feather, clam-shell breastplate.
He, the sum of many travels.
He, apprised of cedar-house rules.
He, the watcher of its ways.
This is his, and theirs.
I love it.
And seek adoption.
If only for the weekend.
(Note: In the forest I have gotten very small. Good prayer ground.)
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| | | Doug Blair ADMIN II
CCW GOLD MEMBER POETRY CONTEST WINNER Posts : 644 Age : 73 Join date : 2013-02-03 Location : Waterloo, Ontario, Canada
| Subject: The Closet Sun Feb 10, 2013 6:37 am | |
| The Closet
Again to be here
When none other might care.
Be the motive of fear
Or of gratitude rare.
I will run to this space
Just to unload my heart;
Yes a quieter place
Set a little apart.
And You come through the gray
In the brilliance of love
And You settle the day
With Your calm from above.
And You hear, I am sure
Every plea, every verse.
A compassion so pure
Will consider my worst,
And will answer again
Lest I misunderstand;
Neither mishap nor men
Will remove from Thy Hand.
Father, this is the spot
Where I grow on my knees;
See what mercy has wrought;
Feel the Spirit’s fresh breeze.
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| | | Doug Blair ADMIN II
CCW GOLD MEMBER POETRY CONTEST WINNER Posts : 644 Age : 73 Join date : 2013-02-03 Location : Waterloo, Ontario, Canada
| Subject: That Jonah, Newton Sun Feb 10, 2013 6:41 am | |
| That Jonah, Newton
"I tell ya Chester, that Newton's a Jonah, he is. Temper quick as mercury. Wicked tongue ta shame even my drunken Uncle Tammas. He's no good for tha ship, I fear. Be lookin' fer whales, boy. Be lookin' fer this storm to roise."
The other, moving his pipe to the opposite side of the large jaw, mumbled, "Mmmm... Why is it d'ya think that Captin shows 'im such peticular favour? Even afore I came belowdecks he had turned over the helm to John. I've had no fearsome grief from the lad, ceptin' for his dour looks betimes. But still ye could be right, old friend."
And above, John Newton gripped the wheel these past forty minutes and noted the coming screech in the rigging. The plaintive growl and roll of the big hull. The wash of water being taken in. The pounding of his own heart.
He had overheard a little of the "Jonah talk". Had seen the increasing scowls on the faces of men without guile. Men who were loyal and brave, but gravely superstitious. Was he near the end? Were all of them?
After ninety minutes, relief came to peel the rigid hands from the wheel and to slap the back and to push toward the staircase. A dozen paces from his station, a giant surge soaked the deck and hurled John to the rail.
He thought, 'Oh wretched, lost, vile, friendless man that I am'. Hurried below.
In the closeness of his bunk, the others elsewhere on duty, he felt as condemned as the black cargo of despairing souls he had sometimes transported; as far from the love of God or man as that rebellious prophet at the bottom of the sea. Though Newton had never received theretofore any message or mission from on high. But now words and petitions were issuing from his innermost person, and a sense of the presence of God was leading him on and driving the storm from his consciousness.
That night of May 10, 1748, one godless sea-farer received the quickening realization and release of "Amazing Grace". His subsequent message, music and ministry would help end the slave trade in the British Empire; would help many souls of all colours to cast off the shackles of unbelief and trespass.
Twas grace that taught my heart to fear, And grace my fears relieved. How precious did that grace appear The hour I first believed. |
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