"Come Down, O Love Divine"

I will follow with a comment on this at a later point, but for now, simply enjoy . . .

A link to Fernando Ortega's post about writing with substance and an audio of him singing the below hymn - words, Bianco De Siena and music, Ralph Vaugh Williams


Come down, O love divine, seek Thou this soul of mine,
And visit it with Thine own ardor glowing.
O Comforter, draw near, within my heart appear,
And kindle it, Thy holy flame bestowing.

O let it freely burn, till earthly passions turn
To dust and ashes in its heat consuming;
And let Thy glorious light shine ever on my sight,
And clothe me round, the while my path illuming.

Let holy charity mine outward vesture be,
And lowliness become mine inner clothing;
True lowliness of heart, which takes the humbler part,
And o’er its own shortcomings weeps with loathing.

And so the yearning strong, with which the soul will long,
Shall far out-pass the power of human telling;
For none can guess its grace, till he become the place
Wherein the Holy Spirit makes His dwelling.

Billie Collins to the Rescue

I recently discovered poet, Billie Collins.
In recognition of his writing style and philosophy on the start of a poem, I am postponing my attempt to write a poem a day. It's not my natural method; I don't like the daily attempt ruling my life; and his natural way of composing is very similar to mine so I feel justified.

You can read two of his poems, "Workshop" and "Introduction to Poetry" at the Poetry Foundation Website.

In an interview at The Paris Review by George Plimpton, Collins discusses how writing poetry is "a very sporadic activity" for him. He talks of the "vigilance involved" and the "DNA" of the first line that "gets a poem going" and out of which "the rest of the poem is constructed." He can tell when the first line "wants to continue" and can "feel a sense of momentum." For him the pen is not an instrument recording prior thought, but is used as a "flashlight" with the possibility of illuminating "something of value."

"Outside Over There"

Day Twenty-one


My heart and mind simply are not built to fit in
Though I change daily just as anyone else
Even the changes carry me to a different place
It matters not whether I am at work or church
Shopping or laughing with family
I somehow seem to be contained in a separate sphere
Always just beyond whatever seems to be the go and flow of the moment
I really do not mind this
I am used to it by now
But sometimes
When my mind believes so strongly
Or my heart struggles so deeply
Over things observed
To the point I feel compelled to express what seems no one notices
I cannot hold back
And voice words
Sounding strangely intense
Shooting rapidly as water from a pump over- primed
And those standing by wonder
Why this person speaks so intently
About nothing

Can You Hear Them?

Day Twenty

I find it exasperating
That people advance themselves over and above others as experts of thought
In fact they go so far as to create groups that participate in the promotion of their expertise
As if belonging to the group will make everyone associated an expert
Or at least amassing adherents will make them seem accurate
You go so far as to ignore whole parts of the very ideas or documents you purport to uphold
You narrow vision to keep your schema together
How can you give up everything to persist
Without considering that perhaps the message is too big
That perhaps it is possible you have stowed significant treasure in the dust
That no one is any less vulnerable to misunderstandings
I am weary of their effects
And long for a time when the hurt and rejected
Will grasp for themselves the courage to taste and see

Homeland

Day Nineteen


I prepare the many new books for shelving
Dozens of titles present varied cultures
I see the faces of humanity
Busy at work, joining in play
Pride in their families
The weather-worn skin of many shades, and eyes of many colors
All within the same borders;
What are borders really?
Humanity does not live and love within square miles
Life has not been easy
And I wonder why their people have treated them so carelessly
And I wonder why our people could never imagine
Life so grippingly fragile
And I wonder why the world lets itself go on so
And would it be any different
If we shifted people around the continents?
Whole populations to begin again in new environments
Waterfalls for those who have only known arid land
And cities for those languishing in isolation
But I turn the pages, and I can see
Misery is not geographical

Walk Away Walk Away

day seventeen


walk away
decision
motion
direction
toward
approaching
arriving
observing
adjusting
again
walk away
decision
motion
direction
approaching
arriving
observing
adjusting
becoming

Denominations

Day Sixteen



I like what I’m seeing
It has been a long, long time
Watching, waiting, measuring
Will you live up to all you stand for
I have heard beginnings
Observed fragments coming together
I have been there for moments or events
When self restrained,
Groups moved almost in unison
You have not forgotten
Purpose exceeds procedure
Truth is the same
Though methods differ
And I am hopeful
By your joined meals and prayers
I am hopeful
Through your combined children’s songs
I am hopeful
In your shared service
Because it tells me
You are finally moving
Finally willing
To be as One