My poem on the difficult issue of living charitably and
hospitably, as moral authorities such as the writers of the New Testament
say we should, is appearing in the September issue of the online poetry
journal, Verse-Virtual.
The poem is
titled "Food, Drink, Love" and responds to the often cited and
beautifully phrased verse from the Book of Matthew in the New Testament. Here's
the verse:
"For I was hungry and
you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me drink, I was a stranger and you
welcomed me." Matthew 25:35
I'll post
the first four stanzas of my poem here:
Food, Drink, Love
If I were one for food and drink,
I'd never stop to mull and think
But fill the pail up to the brim
And bid good cheer to her and him
Now I keep nought of drink and food
For a plastic card is just as good
Its heart lies on a printed sheet
Accept this page, it's good to eat
Somewhere, my lad, your face I've seen
Perchance about the cash machine,
An oasis and a landscape green
With dates and palms and hands so clean
I knew you, Matthew, long ago
Your hair was long, your speech was slow
One of love's tribe, an innocent
Whose glory now is long since spent
If I were giving food and drink
I'd never have the time to think
For urchins with their empty cup
Would line my door to fill it up
If I were one for food and drink,
I'd never stop to mull and think
But fill the pail up to the brim
And bid good cheer to her and him
Now I keep nought of drink and food
For a plastic card is just as good
Its heart lies on a printed sheet
Accept this page, it's good to eat
Somewhere, my lad, your face I've seen
Perchance about the cash machine,
An oasis and a landscape green
With dates and palms and hands so clean
I knew you, Matthew, long ago
Your hair was long, your speech was slow
One of love's tribe, an innocent
Whose glory now is long since spent
If I were giving food and drink
I'd never have the time to think
For urchins with their empty cup
Would line my door to fill it up
To read the
rest of this poem and other work by the 55 poets in this issue, see http://www.verse-virtual.com/poems-and-articles.html
The
September 2017 issue of Verse-Virtual also includes one poem from my chapbook
"Gardeners Do It With Their Hands Dirty," published in May.
Here's the
poem:
Waiting for the Perseids
No stars, but fire
And a guitar,
knock-knock-knocking on the soft diplomacy of clouds, visibility poor
A surge of smoke lunges like a ghost,
then twists back to the lake's black mirror
The weather worker builds a tapered temple of wood,
an offering,
draws flame from his hand
An instrument is procured for the master
The strings wind upward, songs
A few syllables hummed, rise to the diminished sky
From the dark below to the mottled cushion of the stars
The loon calls to the morning light
No stars, but fire
And a guitar,
knock-knock-knocking on the soft diplomacy of clouds, visibility poor
A surge of smoke lunges like a ghost,
then twists back to the lake's black mirror
The weather worker builds a tapered temple of wood,
an offering,
draws flame from his hand
An instrument is procured for the master
The strings wind upward, songs
A few syllables hummed, rise to the diminished sky
From the dark below to the mottled cushion of the stars
The loon calls to the morning light
That
chapbook, my first book of poems, is available from Finishing Line Press at
https://www.finishinglinepress.com/product/gardeners-do-it-with-their-hands-dirty-by-robert-knox/
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