If only they understood, really understood
that he wasn’t a threat; no, he wasn’t an earthly king
though he was flesh and blood. He was here for other things,
setting the stage for his rule, down the road of time
Not here to rule at that time, in that place; but
they misunderstood, were defensive, and acted
cutting short a life; but in fulfillment nonetheless
So in a way it wasn’t free will after all, or at least
not in a human understanding of it.
They were playing their parts;
making the choices he knew they would,
the choices written down long before,
by prophets who heard the words of the Lord
wrote them down, and waited, for the coming
of Elijah, for the coming of the King
Here he was; but they didn’t see.
The question is, “Would we?”
November 25, 2006 21:03
All of my poems are copyrighted by Raymond A. Foss, 2000, 2001, 2002, 2003, 2004, 2005, 2006, 2007, 2008, 2009, 2010, 2011, 2012. All rights reserved. Contact me at Ray Foss for usage. See all 19,830+ of my poems at http://www.raymondafoss.blogspot.com Poetry Where You Live.
Saturday, November 25, 2006
Breakfast Party
A hurried up party
in our bed this morning,
on top of the comforter, the blanket
toy tea set and imaginary orange soda
all too real pepperoni and green salad
with creamy Caesar dressing
early, before breakfast
presented by eager happy hands
giggling sisters
for mommy and me
this morning, after the start of our day
but the start of theirs,
before the cartoons,
a breakfast party
After we moved on to chores and work
they were there still, enjoying a video
goldfish, and each other’s company
on our bed, continuing the party
without us
November 25, 2006 9:35
All of my poems are copyrighted by Raymond A. Foss, 2000, 2001, 2002, 2003, 2004, 2005, 2006, 2007, 2008, 2009, 2010, 2011, 2012. All rights reserved. Contact me at Ray Foss for usage. See all 19,830+ of my poems at http://www.raymondafoss.blogspot.com Poetry Where You Live.
in our bed this morning,
on top of the comforter, the blanket
toy tea set and imaginary orange soda
all too real pepperoni and green salad
with creamy Caesar dressing
early, before breakfast
presented by eager happy hands
giggling sisters
for mommy and me
this morning, after the start of our day
but the start of theirs,
before the cartoons,
a breakfast party
After we moved on to chores and work
they were there still, enjoying a video
goldfish, and each other’s company
on our bed, continuing the party
without us
November 25, 2006 9:35
All of my poems are copyrighted by Raymond A. Foss, 2000, 2001, 2002, 2003, 2004, 2005, 2006, 2007, 2008, 2009, 2010, 2011, 2012. All rights reserved. Contact me at Ray Foss for usage. See all 19,830+ of my poems at http://www.raymondafoss.blogspot.com Poetry Where You Live.
Friday, November 24, 2006
Snow in the Trees
High up at the top of the chairlift
at the summit of the mountain,
the trees were coated, as with larger amounts of clay
with snow and ice, layer on layer
from mother nature and the snow guns of man
the trees carried the load with aplomb
graceful, statuesque, white,
hiding their evergreens
Skiing between these canyons of snow
groves of, forests of these frozen sentinels
quiet above the din of the lodge, of the open
lower slopes, trails, of the ski area
up here, with the blue sky so close as to touch it
the air so cold, so clear
magical in the peacefulness, tranquility
up in the short encrusted trees
at the top of the mountain
November 24, 2006 20:15
All of my poems are copyrighted by Raymond A. Foss, 2000, 2001, 2002, 2003, 2004, 2005, 2006, 2007, 2008, 2009, 2010, 2011, 2012. All rights reserved. Contact me at Ray Foss for usage. See all 19,040+ of my poems at http://www.raymondafoss.blogspot.com Poetry Where You Live.
at the summit of the mountain,
the trees were coated, as with larger amounts of clay
with snow and ice, layer on layer
from mother nature and the snow guns of man
the trees carried the load with aplomb
graceful, statuesque, white,
hiding their evergreens
Skiing between these canyons of snow
groves of, forests of these frozen sentinels
quiet above the din of the lodge, of the open
lower slopes, trails, of the ski area
up here, with the blue sky so close as to touch it
the air so cold, so clear
magical in the peacefulness, tranquility
up in the short encrusted trees
at the top of the mountain
November 24, 2006 20:15
All of my poems are copyrighted by Raymond A. Foss, 2000, 2001, 2002, 2003, 2004, 2005, 2006, 2007, 2008, 2009, 2010, 2011, 2012. All rights reserved. Contact me at Ray Foss for usage. See all 19,040+ of my poems at http://www.raymondafoss.blogspot.com Poetry Where You Live.
Sixty-One Years Ago
At the end of the Thanksgiving service,
she shared the affirmation of her call,
her turn before the committee,
She shared the news with the congregation
with the family of faith she shares
her journey with in so many ways
He was assisting the Pastor,
retired but such a vital part of our ministry
still there with strong voice in the choir
with the words of grace over communion
assisting that night too
He greeted her at the closing,
sharing that his call was sixty-one years ago
When he knew ministry was his calling,
his career, that servanthood would be his path
in a series of churches, so many miles away
Sharing her joy at her new call, in the memory
of his own so long ago
Would that she could share that blessing
long down the days of her life
touch another soul who feels the pull of ministry
and encourage them as he did
part of the continuum of ministers,
disciples, apostles of our Lord and Savior
Jesus Christ, our brother
she shared the affirmation of her call,
her turn before the committee,
She shared the news with the congregation
with the family of faith she shares
her journey with in so many ways
He was assisting the Pastor,
retired but such a vital part of our ministry
still there with strong voice in the choir
with the words of grace over communion
assisting that night too
He greeted her at the closing,
sharing that his call was sixty-one years ago
When he knew ministry was his calling,
his career, that servanthood would be his path
in a series of churches, so many miles away
Sharing her joy at her new call, in the memory
of his own so long ago
Would that she could share that blessing
long down the days of her life
touch another soul who feels the pull of ministry
and encourage them as he did
part of the continuum of ministers,
disciples, apostles of our Lord and Savior
Jesus Christ, our brother
November 24, 2006 17:28
Sixty-One Years Ago
All of my
poems are copyrighted by Raymond A. Foss, 2000, 2001, 2002, 2003, 2004, 2005,
2006, 2007, 2008, 2009, 2010, 2011, 2012, 2013, 2014. All rights reserved.
Contact me at Ray Foss
for usage. See all 33,930+ of my poems at www.raymondafoss.blogspot.com
Poetry Where You Live.
A Walk in Livingston Park
All of my poems are copyrighted by Raymond A. Foss, 2000, 2001, 2002, 2003, 2004, 2005, 2006, 2007, 2008, 2009, 2010, 2011, 2012. All rights reserved. Contact me at Ray Foss for usage. See all 19,830+ of my poems at http://www.raymondafoss.blogspot.com Poetry Where You Live.
"Postcard Shots" - St. Lucia
All of my poems are copyrighted by Raymond A. Foss, 2000, 2001, 2002, 2003, 2004, 2005, 2006, 2007, 2008, 2009, 2010, 2011, 2012. All rights reserved. Contact me at Ray Foss for usage. See all 19,830+ of my poems at http://www.raymondafoss.blogspot.com Poetry Where You Live.
Running in the Park
A family of five
with three balls,
and stomachs still full of turkey,
of pancakes, and sausage
ran and played together,
in the park this morning,
laughing and chasing
each other, the balls
around the windswept field
kicking, catching, running
getting winded,
laughing some more
enjoying the day
so glad we were able to share
the warm fall
sun-filled hour or more
and the family time
all too often forgotten
in filled days and busy lives
November 24, 2006 13:15
All of my poems are copyrighted by Raymond A. Foss, 2000, 2001, 2002, 2003, 2004, 2005, 2006, 2007, 2008, 2009, 2010, 2011, 2012. All rights reserved. Contact me at Ray Foss for usage. See all 19,830+ of my poems at http://www.raymondafoss.blogspot.com Poetry Where You Live.
with three balls,
and stomachs still full of turkey,
of pancakes, and sausage
ran and played together,
in the park this morning,
laughing and chasing
each other, the balls
around the windswept field
kicking, catching, running
getting winded,
laughing some more
enjoying the day
so glad we were able to share
the warm fall
sun-filled hour or more
and the family time
all too often forgotten
in filled days and busy lives
November 24, 2006 13:15
All of my poems are copyrighted by Raymond A. Foss, 2000, 2001, 2002, 2003, 2004, 2005, 2006, 2007, 2008, 2009, 2010, 2011, 2012. All rights reserved. Contact me at Ray Foss for usage. See all 19,830+ of my poems at http://www.raymondafoss.blogspot.com Poetry Where You Live.
Thursday, November 23, 2006
Transfiguration
Whiter than white,
he shone in brilliance,
sealing the fulfillment
standing with Elijah,
with Moses,
Peter, James, and John
far off, a bit confused
at His appearance
somewhat, as he truly was
the Son, the Beloved,
with whom the Father
was well pleased
Ready now for this journey
fully prepared
for the cross
November 23, 2006 20:25
Matthew 17:1-13
he shone in brilliance,
sealing the fulfillment
standing with Elijah,
with Moses,
Peter, James, and John
far off, a bit confused
at His appearance
somewhat, as he truly was
the Son, the Beloved,
with whom the Father
was well pleased
Ready now for this journey
fully prepared
for the cross
November 23, 2006 20:25
Matthew 17:1-13
All of my poems are copyrighted by Raymond A.
Foss, 2000, 2001, 2002, 2003, 2004, 2005, 2006, 2007, 2008, 2009, 2010, 2011,
2012, 2013. All rights reserved. Contact me at Ray Foss for usage.
See all 24,020+ of my poems at www.raymondafoss.blogspot.com Poetry Where You
Live.
Hallowing the Name
Holy is the name of God
and we are to hallow the name
never in vain; never tolerating
others who do, without a word
Praying, remembering the Lord
in all my prayers,
in my personal words
not by rote alone
November 23, 2006 20:15
All of my poems are copyrighted by Raymond A. Foss, 2000, 2001, 2002, 2003, 2004, 2005, 2006, 2007, 2008, 2009, 2010, 2011, 2012. All rights reserved. Contact me at Ray Foss for usage. See all 19,830+ of my poems at http://www.raymondafoss.blogspot.com Poetry Where You Live.
and we are to hallow the name
never in vain; never tolerating
others who do, without a word
Praying, remembering the Lord
in all my prayers,
in my personal words
not by rote alone
November 23, 2006 20:15
All of my poems are copyrighted by Raymond A. Foss, 2000, 2001, 2002, 2003, 2004, 2005, 2006, 2007, 2008, 2009, 2010, 2011, 2012. All rights reserved. Contact me at Ray Foss for usage. See all 19,830+ of my poems at http://www.raymondafoss.blogspot.com Poetry Where You Live.
A Lean-to in the Woods
A bed of pine,
corrugated metal for a roof
and snow fencing walls
A place of refuges
out in the woods
just up the hill
off the path
A place for reflection
sanctuary in the city
close but away
from the day to day
corrugated metal for a roof
and snow fencing walls
A place of refuges
out in the woods
just up the hill
off the path
A place for reflection
sanctuary in the city
close but away
from the day to day
-----------------------
edited March 26, 2021
A Lean-to in the Woods - v2
https://raymondafoss.blogspot.com/2021/03/a-lean-to-in-woods-v2.html
up the trail from Apple Hill Road,
Claremont, NH
1976 to 1978
November 23, 2006 20:06
A Lean-to in the Woods
http://raymondafoss.blogspot.com/2006/11/lean-to-in-woods.html
&
edited October 29, 2015
Out in the Woods – v5
http://raymondafoss.blogspot.com/2015/10/out-in-woods-v5.html
(editing version 4)
edited April 16, 2015
Out in the Woods – v4
http://raymondafoss.blogspot.com/2015/04/out-in-woods-v4.html
(editing original)
Edited April 24, 2013
“Out in the woods – v3”
http://raymondafoss.blogspot.com/2013/04/out-in-woods-v3.html
(from the original)
edited April 26, 2012
“Out in the woods – v2”
http://raymondafoss.blogspot.com/2012/04/out-in-woods-v2.html
Original poem 3/26/2004
“Out in the woods”
http://raymondafoss.blogspot.com/2004/04/out-in-woods.html
about walk in woods in Claremont, NH
&
edited October 29, 2015
A Walk in the Woods – v3
http://raymondafoss.blogspot.com/2015/10/a-walk-in-woods-v3.html
(editing version 2)
Edited April 24, 2013
“A Walk in the Woods – v2”
http://raymondafoss.blogspot.com/2013/04/a-walk-in-woods-v2.html
August 7, 2006 19:38
“A Walk in the Woods”
http://raymondafoss.blogspot.com/2006/08/walk-in-woods.html
All of my poems are copyrighted by Raymond A. Foss, 2000, 2001, 2002, 2003, 2004, 2005, 2006, 2007, 2008, 2009, 2010, 2011, 2012, 2013, 2014, 2015, 2016, 2017, 2018, 2019, 2020, and 2021. All rights reserved. Contact me at <a href="mailto:raymondafoss@gmail.com">Ray Foss</a> for usage. See all 53k+ of my poems at www.raymondafoss.blogspot.com Poetry Where You Live.
poetry, poem, wind, nature, forest, cold, love, grace, faith, God, hope, comfort, Raymond A. Foss, Poetry Where You Live, spring, woods, lady slipper, flower,
#poetry #poem #wind #nature #forest #cold #love #grace #faith #God #hope #comfort #woods #spring #ladyslipper #flower
Faithful Frankness
Over and over, she poured out her heart
her pain, her plea, her wish
directly, frankly
to the Lord, in the temple
spilling out her prayer
making a promise to God
if her prayer would be answered
her honest, frank appeal
November 23, 2006 19:10, edited 19:32
1 Samuel 1:4-20
her pain, her plea, her wish
directly, frankly
to the Lord, in the temple
spilling out her prayer
making a promise to God
if her prayer would be answered
her honest, frank appeal
November 23, 2006 19:10, edited 19:32
1 Samuel 1:4-20
All of my
poems are copyrighted by Raymond A. Foss, 2000, 2001, 2002, 2003, 2004, 2005,
2006, 2007, 2008, 2009, 2010, 2011, 2012, 2013. All rights reserved. Contact me
at Ray Foss
for usage. See all 25,340+ of my poems at www.raymondafoss.blogspot.com Poetry
Where You Live.
Threads of Her Journey
A tapestry is being stitched
story by story,
step by step, thread by thread
Pictures of her life come alive
with threads of gold,
of silver, of royal purple,
of hope, of faith, of love
her story unfolding
in the fabric, the knitted
tapestry of her life
November 23, 2006 19:05
All of my poems are copyrighted by Raymond A. Foss, 2000, 2001, 2002, 2003, 2004, 2005, 2006, 2007, 2008, 2009, 2010, 2011, 2012. All rights reserved. Contact me at Ray Foss for usage. See all 19,730+ of my poems at http://www.raymondafoss.blogspot.com Poetry Where You Live.
story by story,
step by step, thread by thread
Pictures of her life come alive
with threads of gold,
of silver, of royal purple,
of hope, of faith, of love
her story unfolding
in the fabric, the knitted
tapestry of her life
November 23, 2006 19:05
All of my poems are copyrighted by Raymond A. Foss, 2000, 2001, 2002, 2003, 2004, 2005, 2006, 2007, 2008, 2009, 2010, 2011, 2012. All rights reserved. Contact me at Ray Foss for usage. See all 19,730+ of my poems at http://www.raymondafoss.blogspot.com Poetry Where You Live.
After the Turkey
We sat sated in the den
ready for pie; but not quite
needing to sit a bit, settle our
bloated tummies, because
it was after the turkey,
after the rolls, after the potatoes,
the gravy, cranberries,
the vegetables, the stuffing,
the bounty of the feast we call
Thanksgiving, when seconds
become thirds, and the eye is
bigger than the stomach,
and eating is expected
Because cooking is love
and love is eating all of it
and we sit quietly, letting
the tryptophan do its thing
slowly easing the day
and making us ready
for dessert
ready for pie; but not quite
needing to sit a bit, settle our
bloated tummies, because
it was after the turkey,
after the rolls, after the potatoes,
the gravy, cranberries,
the vegetables, the stuffing,
the bounty of the feast we call
Thanksgiving, when seconds
become thirds, and the eye is
bigger than the stomach,
and eating is expected
Because cooking is love
and love is eating all of it
and we sit quietly, letting
the tryptophan do its thing
slowly easing the day
and making us ready
for dessert
November 23, 2006 18:27
After the Turkey
All of my
poems are copyrighted by Raymond A. Foss, 2000, 2001, 2002, 2003, 2004, 2005,
2006, 2007, 2008, 2009, 2010, 2011, 2012, 2013, 2014. All rights reserved.
Contact me at Ray Foss
for usage. See all 33,930+ of my poems at www.raymondafoss.blogspot.com
Poetry Where You Live.
Staring into the Flame
Sitting still, quiet, alone,
in the living room of my boyhood
alone with my thoughts after the Christmas day
watching the flickering, living flame
in the fireplace, seeing the dance, the quiver
of the gas, the glowing embers on the log,
bark catching fire, curling, shriveling in the
consuming fire, lost in vapors up the flue
the pop of the wood, giving up itself
breaking down to the heat, the hungry flames
the warmth flowing out into the room
reddening my cheeks, flush already
with the cold wind outside
letting the heat from the maw of the opening
ooze into me, slow my breathing
linger a bit longer, before bed
mesmerized by the ballet
of the blue, yellow, white flames
in the quiet of the darkened room
November 23, 2006 18:19
All of my poems are copyrighted by Raymond A. Foss, 2000, 2001, 2002, 2003, 2004, 2005, 2006, 2007, 2008, 2009, 2010, 2011, 2012. All rights reserved. Contact me at Ray Foss for usage. See all 19,030+ of my poems at http://www.raymondafoss.blogspot.com Poetry Where You Live.
in the living room of my boyhood
alone with my thoughts after the Christmas day
watching the flickering, living flame
in the fireplace, seeing the dance, the quiver
of the gas, the glowing embers on the log,
bark catching fire, curling, shriveling in the
consuming fire, lost in vapors up the flue
the pop of the wood, giving up itself
breaking down to the heat, the hungry flames
the warmth flowing out into the room
reddening my cheeks, flush already
with the cold wind outside
letting the heat from the maw of the opening
ooze into me, slow my breathing
linger a bit longer, before bed
mesmerized by the ballet
of the blue, yellow, white flames
in the quiet of the darkened room
November 23, 2006 18:19
All of my poems are copyrighted by Raymond A. Foss, 2000, 2001, 2002, 2003, 2004, 2005, 2006, 2007, 2008, 2009, 2010, 2011, 2012. All rights reserved. Contact me at Ray Foss for usage. See all 19,030+ of my poems at http://www.raymondafoss.blogspot.com Poetry Where You Live.
Scent Memories
The new candle tarts,
ready for the winter season
shared by the shopper yesterday,
the fruits of her labor, presented one by one
so many scent memories flowed from my memory
of the fir forest, the balsam wood,
the nutmeg and cinnamon from her kitchen
from the hot cider, the pumpkin pie,
the winter potpourri
Smell rekindling, connecting earlier times
in my life with right now
How sweet is memory that is conjured
with the smell of pine, of harvest, of home
November 23, 2006 18:12
All of my poems are copyrighted by Raymond A. Foss, 2000, 2001, 2002, 2003, 2004, 2005, 2006, 2007, 2008, 2009, 2010, 2011, 2012. All rights reserved. Contact me at Ray Foss for usage. See all 19,020+ of my poems at http://www.raymondafoss.blogspot.com Poetry Where You Live.
ready for the winter season
shared by the shopper yesterday,
the fruits of her labor, presented one by one
so many scent memories flowed from my memory
of the fir forest, the balsam wood,
the nutmeg and cinnamon from her kitchen
from the hot cider, the pumpkin pie,
the winter potpourri
Smell rekindling, connecting earlier times
in my life with right now
How sweet is memory that is conjured
with the smell of pine, of harvest, of home
November 23, 2006 18:12
All of my poems are copyrighted by Raymond A. Foss, 2000, 2001, 2002, 2003, 2004, 2005, 2006, 2007, 2008, 2009, 2010, 2011, 2012. All rights reserved. Contact me at Ray Foss for usage. See all 19,020+ of my poems at http://www.raymondafoss.blogspot.com Poetry Where You Live.
Breaking Camp
At 1:00 in the morning
on a moonlit, starlit night
in northern Maine,
in the Allagash Wilderness
silent strangers, worked together
to break camp and set out onto the still water
into the lake, toward the river, running north
heading out into the darkness, heavy dark
shadows from the full moonlight
the moon dancing on the lake, teasing, urging
entrancing the band of canoeists,
hushed silence through all of us
a pact unspoken but honored
a covenant of peace, stillness, reverence
knowing somehow each of us
how special these moments were
how treasured they are still
thirty years later
as I write these lines
remembering so well
how the shivers felt that night
when the only sound was the
pearls of water
falling from my paddle
the keel of the canoe
pushing through the water
and the sound of my heart
because we were so quiet
in the dark
November 23, 2006 18:00
All of my poems are copyrighted by Raymond A. Foss, 2000, 2001, 2002, 2003, 2004, 2005, 2006, 2007, 2008, 2009, 2010, 2011, 2012. All rights reserved. Contact me at Ray Foss for usage. See all 20,790+ of my poems at http://www.raymondafoss.blogspot.com Poetry Where You Live.
on a moonlit, starlit night
in northern Maine,
in the Allagash Wilderness
silent strangers, worked together
to break camp and set out onto the still water
into the lake, toward the river, running north
heading out into the darkness, heavy dark
shadows from the full moonlight
the moon dancing on the lake, teasing, urging
entrancing the band of canoeists,
hushed silence through all of us
a pact unspoken but honored
a covenant of peace, stillness, reverence
knowing somehow each of us
how special these moments were
how treasured they are still
thirty years later
as I write these lines
remembering so well
how the shivers felt that night
when the only sound was the
pearls of water
falling from my paddle
the keel of the canoe
pushing through the water
and the sound of my heart
because we were so quiet
in the dark
November 23, 2006 18:00
All of my poems are copyrighted by Raymond A. Foss, 2000, 2001, 2002, 2003, 2004, 2005, 2006, 2007, 2008, 2009, 2010, 2011, 2012. All rights reserved. Contact me at Ray Foss for usage. See all 20,790+ of my poems at http://www.raymondafoss.blogspot.com Poetry Where You Live.
In the Dark of Night
A small solitary island
without television, phone
without running water
But it had the call of the loon
the splash of bass, the slap of the beaver
the rustle of the leaves, the kerplunk
of a turtle dropping into the pond
the buzz of mosquito, dragonfly,
of waves lapping the shore
And it had the shadows of dusk,
the shimmering light of the moon,
the stars on the undulating surface
of the water, the ripples, the waves,
the stilling skin of the lake as wind dies
and there is quiet, late at night
long after the human
and daylight creatures
Time when the stars seem close,
when clouds are brushed on the dome
when the arc is clearly visible
and the Milky Way is a smudge
carved through the plane of the sky
A perfect time, a special time
in the dark on the island in the lake
November 23, 2006 17:52
All of my poems are copyrighted by Raymond A. Foss, 2000, 2001, 2002, 2003, 2004, 2005, 2006, 2007, 2008, 2009, 2010, 2011, 2012. All rights reserved. Contact me at Ray Foss for usage. See all 19,020+ of my poems at http://www.raymondafoss.blogspot.com Poetry Where You Live.
without television, phone
without running water
But it had the call of the loon
the splash of bass, the slap of the beaver
the rustle of the leaves, the kerplunk
of a turtle dropping into the pond
the buzz of mosquito, dragonfly,
of waves lapping the shore
And it had the shadows of dusk,
the shimmering light of the moon,
the stars on the undulating surface
of the water, the ripples, the waves,
the stilling skin of the lake as wind dies
and there is quiet, late at night
long after the human
and daylight creatures
Time when the stars seem close,
when clouds are brushed on the dome
when the arc is clearly visible
and the Milky Way is a smudge
carved through the plane of the sky
A perfect time, a special time
in the dark on the island in the lake
November 23, 2006 17:52
All of my poems are copyrighted by Raymond A. Foss, 2000, 2001, 2002, 2003, 2004, 2005, 2006, 2007, 2008, 2009, 2010, 2011, 2012. All rights reserved. Contact me at Ray Foss for usage. See all 19,020+ of my poems at http://www.raymondafoss.blogspot.com Poetry Where You Live.
Phosphorescence
Behind the cruise ship,
in the wake
a green phosphorescence
bubbled and shimmered
in the dark of night
the white caps and the swells
danced in the glowing sparkles
there for only a few to wonder
and treasure, as the rest slept
lost in dreams and deeper sleep
November 23, 2006 17:43
All of my poems are copyrighted by Raymond A. Foss, 2000, 2001, 2002, 2003, 2004, 2005, 2006, 2007, 2008, 2009, 2010, 2011, 2012. All rights reserved. Contact me at Ray Foss for usage. See all 19,020+ of my poems at http://www.raymondafoss.blogspot.com Poetry Where You Live.
in the wake
a green phosphorescence
bubbled and shimmered
in the dark of night
the white caps and the swells
danced in the glowing sparkles
there for only a few to wonder
and treasure, as the rest slept
lost in dreams and deeper sleep
November 23, 2006 17:43
All of my poems are copyrighted by Raymond A. Foss, 2000, 2001, 2002, 2003, 2004, 2005, 2006, 2007, 2008, 2009, 2010, 2011, 2012. All rights reserved. Contact me at Ray Foss for usage. See all 19,020+ of my poems at http://www.raymondafoss.blogspot.com Poetry Where You Live.
For this we give Thanks
For this day and for this hour,
for the joys of family, and
time to spend together
for the love we share
this Thanksgiving Day
across the miles,
when we are apart,
and for the closeness
we share in our hearts
Oh grant the world
a bit of peace
this day of rest and
day of grace
May we pause and
think again
of the God that provides,
sustains, and guides us all
and give thanks
for the joys of family, and
time to spend together
for the love we share
this Thanksgiving Day
across the miles,
when we are apart,
and for the closeness
we share in our hearts
Oh grant the world
a bit of peace
this day of rest and
day of grace
May we pause and
think again
of the God that provides,
sustains, and guides us all
and give thanks
November 23, 2006 10:58
For this we give Thanks
All of my
poems are copyrighted by Raymond A. Foss, 2000, 2001, 2002, 2003, 2004, 2005,
2006, 2007, 2008, 2009, 2010, 2011, 2012, 2013, 2014. All rights reserved.
Contact me at Ray Foss
for usage. See all 33,930+ of my poems at www.raymondafoss.blogspot.com
Poetry Where You Live.
Color of Crime - http://colorofcrime.blogspot.com
I came across a disturbing blog, "Color of Crime", http://colorofcrime.blogspot.com, which highlights newspaper articles that focus on race.
All of my poems are copyrighted by Raymond A. Foss, 2000, 2001, 2002, 2003, 2004, 2005, 2006, 2007, 2008, 2009, 2010, 2011, 2012. All rights reserved. Contact me at Ray Foss for usage. See all 19,020+ of my poems at http://www.raymondafoss.blogspot.com Poetry Where You Live.
All of my poems are copyrighted by Raymond A. Foss, 2000, 2001, 2002, 2003, 2004, 2005, 2006, 2007, 2008, 2009, 2010, 2011, 2012. All rights reserved. Contact me at Ray Foss for usage. See all 19,020+ of my poems at http://www.raymondafoss.blogspot.com Poetry Where You Live.
Wednesday, November 22, 2006
Romanian Poetry
Here is another one I landed on last night, "Romanian Poetry", http://romanian-poetry.blogspot.com. It only seems to be just starting. I like one of the latest ones, Sonnet I.
All of my poems are copyrighted by Raymond A. Foss, 2000, 2001, 2002, 2003, 2004, 2005, 2006, 2007, 2008, 2009, 2010, 2011, 2012. All rights reserved. Contact me at Ray Foss for usage. See all 19,010+ of my poems at http://www.raymondafoss.blogspot.com Poetry Where You Live.
All of my poems are copyrighted by Raymond A. Foss, 2000, 2001, 2002, 2003, 2004, 2005, 2006, 2007, 2008, 2009, 2010, 2011, 2012. All rights reserved. Contact me at Ray Foss for usage. See all 19,010+ of my poems at http://www.raymondafoss.blogspot.com Poetry Where You Live.
joie de vivre
I stumbled on this site, "joie de vivre", http://kimberlyapplegate.blogspot.com last night. Very eclectic - a site with paintings of furniture.
All of my poems are copyrighted by Raymond A. Foss, 2000, 2001, 2002, 2003, 2004, 2005, 2006, 2007, 2008, 2009, 2010, 2011, 2012. All rights reserved. Contact me at Ray Foss for usage. See all 19,020+ of my poems at http://www.raymondafoss.blogspot.com Poetry Where You Live.
All of my poems are copyrighted by Raymond A. Foss, 2000, 2001, 2002, 2003, 2004, 2005, 2006, 2007, 2008, 2009, 2010, 2011, 2012. All rights reserved. Contact me at Ray Foss for usage. See all 19,020+ of my poems at http://www.raymondafoss.blogspot.com Poetry Where You Live.
Giving Thanks
We gather each year to remember the year gone by
the harvest season, the days of thanksgiving
the first Thanksgiving, in the cold of New England
a small band of devout Pilgrims and
rough-hewn adventurers, together sharing the bounty
of their first harvest, with the Indians they had come to know
Stopping, raising voices and prayers in humble thanks
to the creator, sustainer, provider God
Humble prayers, for they knew full well the cost
the price they had paid for the parting from the safety
the bold act of faith to go from Europe
to this new land, knowing that it was not Virginia,
knowing that they had lost so many saints,
so many souls that first year,
that their number was fewer, that their lives had been harder
harder than they planned; but the God who they followed
watched over them, protected the shoot of the stump
the hardy band, the noble colony
and gave them reason to give Thanksgiving
November 22, 2006 11:57
http://raymondafoss.blogspot.com/2006/11/giving-thanks.html
the harvest season, the days of thanksgiving
the first Thanksgiving, in the cold of New England
a small band of devout Pilgrims and
rough-hewn adventurers, together sharing the bounty
of their first harvest, with the Indians they had come to know
Stopping, raising voices and prayers in humble thanks
to the creator, sustainer, provider God
Humble prayers, for they knew full well the cost
the price they had paid for the parting from the safety
the bold act of faith to go from Europe
to this new land, knowing that it was not Virginia,
knowing that they had lost so many saints,
so many souls that first year,
that their number was fewer, that their lives had been harder
harder than they planned; but the God who they followed
watched over them, protected the shoot of the stump
the hardy band, the noble colony
and gave them reason to give Thanksgiving
November 22, 2006 11:57
http://raymondafoss.blogspot.com/2006/11/giving-thanks.html
All of my
poems are copyrighted by Raymond A. Foss, 2000, 2001, 2002, 2003, 2004, 2005,
2006, 2007, 2008, 2009, 2010, 2011, 2012, 2013, 2014. All rights reserved.
Contact me at Ray Foss
for usage. See all 33,930+ of my poems at www.raymondafoss.blogspot.com
Poetry Where You Live.
Blood of the Pilgrims
In my line, my blood,
there pulses, course through my veins
the blood of those hardy souls,
the first Pilgrims, those who lived and died
for their faith, in the raw land, the new world
living my the Compact, the covenant they crafted
in the little boat, before they went ashore
and cast their fate to the wilds of the North Atlantic
to this beachhead on the shore, the bulwark
the port to the frontier beyond
so long ago, so near to home
Going there, to their village, seeing people portraying
my ancestors, reading more, learning more
of the Speedwell, my grandfather their leader
the work of my blood, my kin, their faith
down through the generations, here in New England
I feel the connection, the bond, with my forebears
who met and welcomed their neighbors,
who broke bread and gave thanks in this new place
before the migration west, before the birth of a nation
the rise of the colonies and the fight with the natives
I know some of what they must have felt, in knowing their God
seeing the God of creation, helping them, walking beside them
in creating the colony, the bastion of religious freedom
the beachhead indeed in this foreign land
Giving thanks myself, this Thanksgiving, as they did
because their God is my God,
and God has blessed me too,
beyond measure, beyond any earning of that blessing;
by grace alone, we are blessed
and we give thanks.
there pulses, course through my veins
the blood of those hardy souls,
the first Pilgrims, those who lived and died
for their faith, in the raw land, the new world
living my the Compact, the covenant they crafted
in the little boat, before they went ashore
and cast their fate to the wilds of the North Atlantic
to this beachhead on the shore, the bulwark
the port to the frontier beyond
so long ago, so near to home
Going there, to their village, seeing people portraying
my ancestors, reading more, learning more
of the Speedwell, my grandfather their leader
the work of my blood, my kin, their faith
down through the generations, here in New England
I feel the connection, the bond, with my forebears
who met and welcomed their neighbors,
who broke bread and gave thanks in this new place
before the migration west, before the birth of a nation
the rise of the colonies and the fight with the natives
I know some of what they must have felt, in knowing their God
seeing the God of creation, helping them, walking beside them
in creating the colony, the bastion of religious freedom
the beachhead indeed in this foreign land
Giving thanks myself, this Thanksgiving, as they did
because their God is my God,
and God has blessed me too,
beyond measure, beyond any earning of that blessing;
by grace alone, we are blessed
and we give thanks.
November 22, 2006 12:09
Blood of the Pilgrims
All of my poems
are copyrighted by Raymond A. Foss, 2000, 2001, 2002, 2003, 2004, 2005, 2006,
2007, 2008, 2009, 2010, 2011, 2012, 2013, 2014. All rights reserved. Contact me
at Ray Foss
for usage. See all 33,930+ of my poems at www.raymondafoss.blogspot.com
Poetry Where You Live.
A Prayer of Thanskgiving
Dear God,
I give you thanks for this day,
for the days of my life so far
and all the future days you will give me;
For You, your love for me,
for your consistent holding of covenant
with me, throughout my life;
For the word you gave your people,
your prophets, your Son, the apostles
words that live in us still, in the good news
the covenant keeping by You, “I am”;
For the words in the word,
written with a message for me, today
and each day I open the pages, seeing
in the words meaning for my life
for the struggles I face,
the challenges I have;
For the words of faith shared in devotionals,
from the pulpit, in the sanctuary,
in prayer, in song, that color our lives,
enrich our journey of faith, sharing with
other earlier saints, a bit of your grace;
For the sacrifice, the example, the gift
of your Son, who came to earth,
lived among us, gave us words
to guide, to let your Spirit infuse
the law, the rules, the loving way,
the spirit, not the letter of the law alone,
to live life as your servant, as your disciple;
For my wife, my children, my family
who love me, really love me
who see the good in me, the gifts you have
heaped on me beyond my understanding,
who brighten my day, each day,
with shared words of love, kind acts,
subtle ways they share their love with me;
For the gift of intelligence, the gift of passion,
for the gift of advocacy, the law,
where I can defend, uplift, protect,
fight for what is best,
heal lives, make a difference;
For the gift of photography, for seeing the world as
through a lens, noting the subtle, the oft-overlooked
small miracle, hidden but visible if we look;
For the gift of poetry, for being your amaneusis,
your transcriber of the words you put in my head,
into the cells of my fingers writing;
For the gift of others in my path, for my church family
for clients, and others, who touch my life, who teach me
nurture me, support me, believe in me;
For you again Lord for all I just wrote and
for the millions of other ways
You have touched, guided,
influenced my life so far
and for the certainty of my salvation,
through the gift of your Son,
Jesus Christ, my brother and my Savior.
Amen
All of my poems are copyrighted by Raymond A. Foss, 2000, 2001, 2002, 2003, 2004, 2005, 2006, 2007, 2008, 2009, 2010, 2011, 2012. All rights reserved. Contact me at Ray Foss for usage. See all 19,020+ of my poems at http://www.raymondafoss.blogspot.com Poetry Where You Live.
I give you thanks for this day,
for the days of my life so far
and all the future days you will give me;
For You, your love for me,
for your consistent holding of covenant
with me, throughout my life;
For the word you gave your people,
your prophets, your Son, the apostles
words that live in us still, in the good news
the covenant keeping by You, “I am”;
For the words in the word,
written with a message for me, today
and each day I open the pages, seeing
in the words meaning for my life
for the struggles I face,
the challenges I have;
For the words of faith shared in devotionals,
from the pulpit, in the sanctuary,
in prayer, in song, that color our lives,
enrich our journey of faith, sharing with
other earlier saints, a bit of your grace;
For the sacrifice, the example, the gift
of your Son, who came to earth,
lived among us, gave us words
to guide, to let your Spirit infuse
the law, the rules, the loving way,
the spirit, not the letter of the law alone,
to live life as your servant, as your disciple;
For my wife, my children, my family
who love me, really love me
who see the good in me, the gifts you have
heaped on me beyond my understanding,
who brighten my day, each day,
with shared words of love, kind acts,
subtle ways they share their love with me;
For the gift of intelligence, the gift of passion,
for the gift of advocacy, the law,
where I can defend, uplift, protect,
fight for what is best,
heal lives, make a difference;
For the gift of photography, for seeing the world as
through a lens, noting the subtle, the oft-overlooked
small miracle, hidden but visible if we look;
For the gift of poetry, for being your amaneusis,
your transcriber of the words you put in my head,
into the cells of my fingers writing;
For the gift of others in my path, for my church family
for clients, and others, who touch my life, who teach me
nurture me, support me, believe in me;
For you again Lord for all I just wrote and
for the millions of other ways
You have touched, guided,
influenced my life so far
and for the certainty of my salvation,
through the gift of your Son,
Jesus Christ, my brother and my Savior.
Amen
All of my poems are copyrighted by Raymond A. Foss, 2000, 2001, 2002, 2003, 2004, 2005, 2006, 2007, 2008, 2009, 2010, 2011, 2012. All rights reserved. Contact me at Ray Foss for usage. See all 19,020+ of my poems at http://www.raymondafoss.blogspot.com Poetry Where You Live.
Cold this Morning
It was cold this morning,
cut into you cold
my open suit coat, thin dress white shirt
not quite up to the task, my blood not yet
used to the cold, ready for its bite
assault on my skin, on me
Ice on puddles, heavy thick frost
air in my lungs so cold
walking on I saw
dangling earrings of dewdrops of
the milkweed plants’ fruits
frozen against the wind by the frost
They will be freed later in the morning
when the sun warms above freezing
and they are launched in the breeze
cold now, early before the sun bleeds
through the steel grey clouds
just aglow with the weak yellow light
early morning in the city
as fall stiffens toward winter
November 22, 2006 9:51
of a walk to Hillsborough County Superior Court
about 8:00 this morning
All of my poems are copyrighted by Raymond A. Foss, 2000, 2001, 2002, 2003, 2004, 2005, 2006, 2007, 2008, 2009, 2010, 2011, 2012. All rights reserved. Contact me at Ray Foss for usage. See all 19,020+ of my poems at http://www.raymondafoss.blogspot.com Poetry Where You Live.
cut into you cold
my open suit coat, thin dress white shirt
not quite up to the task, my blood not yet
used to the cold, ready for its bite
assault on my skin, on me
Ice on puddles, heavy thick frost
air in my lungs so cold
walking on I saw
dangling earrings of dewdrops of
the milkweed plants’ fruits
frozen against the wind by the frost
They will be freed later in the morning
when the sun warms above freezing
and they are launched in the breeze
cold now, early before the sun bleeds
through the steel grey clouds
just aglow with the weak yellow light
early morning in the city
as fall stiffens toward winter
November 22, 2006 9:51
of a walk to Hillsborough County Superior Court
about 8:00 this morning
All of my poems are copyrighted by Raymond A. Foss, 2000, 2001, 2002, 2003, 2004, 2005, 2006, 2007, 2008, 2009, 2010, 2011, 2012. All rights reserved. Contact me at Ray Foss for usage. See all 19,020+ of my poems at http://www.raymondafoss.blogspot.com Poetry Where You Live.
Tuesday, November 21, 2006
Antartica - http://davidruth.blogspot.com/
Check out the Blog of Note - "Antartica" - http://davidruth.blogspot.com/
All of my poems are copyrighted by Raymond A. Foss, 2000, 2001, 2002, 2003, 2004, 2005, 2006, 2007, 2008, 2009, 2010, 2011, 2012. All rights reserved. Contact me at Ray Foss for usage. See all 19,020+ of my poems at http://www.raymondafoss.blogspot.com Poetry Where You Live.
All of my poems are copyrighted by Raymond A. Foss, 2000, 2001, 2002, 2003, 2004, 2005, 2006, 2007, 2008, 2009, 2010, 2011, 2012. All rights reserved. Contact me at Ray Foss for usage. See all 19,020+ of my poems at http://www.raymondafoss.blogspot.com Poetry Where You Live.
A King
A king, not of this world
being baited, tested, by the emissary,
the local ruler, representative
of the Emperor
Would it be sedition and the cross
or innocence and release?
A parsed, careful,
purposeful conversation
assuaging fears; but not good enough
for the powers who wanted to remain so
I find no fault with him; I will release him
Heresy! He must die! Because he is a threat
a threat to us, because of the claims, the signs
the prophesy. For he is the Messiah,
the one who was before the world was begun
the word made flesh, the living god in our midst
and that would be bad, because we share power
with the human kings, priests, scribes
the power structure in place now
Why oh why would you let him live
He is a threat to us all
November 21, 2006 20:09
John 18:33-37
All of my poems are copyrighted by Raymond A. Foss, 2000, 2001, 2002, 2003, 2004, 2005, 2006, 2007, 2008, 2009, 2010, 2011, 2012. All rights reserved. Contact me at Ray Foss for usage. See all 19,020+ of my poems at http://www.raymondafoss.blogspot.com Poetry Where You Live.
being baited, tested, by the emissary,
the local ruler, representative
of the Emperor
Would it be sedition and the cross
or innocence and release?
A parsed, careful,
purposeful conversation
assuaging fears; but not good enough
for the powers who wanted to remain so
I find no fault with him; I will release him
Heresy! He must die! Because he is a threat
a threat to us, because of the claims, the signs
the prophesy. For he is the Messiah,
the one who was before the world was begun
the word made flesh, the living god in our midst
and that would be bad, because we share power
with the human kings, priests, scribes
the power structure in place now
Why oh why would you let him live
He is a threat to us all
November 21, 2006 20:09
John 18:33-37
All of my poems are copyrighted by Raymond A. Foss, 2000, 2001, 2002, 2003, 2004, 2005, 2006, 2007, 2008, 2009, 2010, 2011, 2012. All rights reserved. Contact me at Ray Foss for usage. See all 19,020+ of my poems at http://www.raymondafoss.blogspot.com Poetry Where You Live.
In the Bible
Starting my days
in the word, studying
the lessons for me,
the words there for me to see
to learn from the past,
from the covenant people,
from the covenant God
and the son, good news
for the reading
when we take the time
and read it, filter through
the hidden meanings,
the parables, the stories
with so much
universal meaning
November 21, 2006 19:54
All of my poems are copyrighted by Raymond A. Foss, 2000, 2001, 2002, 2003, 2004, 2005, 2006, 2007, 2008, 2009, 2010, 2011, 2012. All rights reserved. Contact me at Ray Foss for usage. See all 19,010+ of my poems at http://www.raymondafoss.blogspot.com Poetry Where You Live.
in the word, studying
the lessons for me,
the words there for me to see
to learn from the past,
from the covenant people,
from the covenant God
and the son, good news
for the reading
when we take the time
and read it, filter through
the hidden meanings,
the parables, the stories
with so much
universal meaning
November 21, 2006 19:54
All of my poems are copyrighted by Raymond A. Foss, 2000, 2001, 2002, 2003, 2004, 2005, 2006, 2007, 2008, 2009, 2010, 2011, 2012. All rights reserved. Contact me at Ray Foss for usage. See all 19,010+ of my poems at http://www.raymondafoss.blogspot.com Poetry Where You Live.
900 Poems
With the last poem, Winter Came In, there are now 900 poems on this site.
All of my poems are copyrighted by Raymond A. Foss, 2000, 2001, 2002, 2003, 2004, 2005, 2006, 2007, 2008, 2009, 2010, 2011, 2012. All rights reserved. Contact me at Ray Foss for usage. See all 19,020+ of my poems at http://www.raymondafoss.blogspot.com Poetry Where You Live.
All of my poems are copyrighted by Raymond A. Foss, 2000, 2001, 2002, 2003, 2004, 2005, 2006, 2007, 2008, 2009, 2010, 2011, 2012. All rights reserved. Contact me at Ray Foss for usage. See all 19,020+ of my poems at http://www.raymondafoss.blogspot.com Poetry Where You Live.
Winter Came In
Uninvited, unwelcome, too soon
winter came in
in through the open front door
as I sat reading on the couch
came in like a thief in the night
an intruder this evening
when she went outside
a gush of winter, a blast
of the coming cold
pushed its way in,
pushed the warm air aside
sent a shiver through me
with a smell of snow
which will follow
all too soon
November 21, 2006 19:47
All of my poems are copyrighted by Raymond A. Foss, 2000, 2001, 2002, 2003, 2004, 2005, 2006, 2007, 2008, 2009, 2010, 2011, 2012. All rights reserved. Contact me at Ray Foss for usage. See all 19,010+ of my poems at http://www.raymondafoss.blogspot.com Poetry Where You Live.
winter came in
in through the open front door
as I sat reading on the couch
came in like a thief in the night
an intruder this evening
when she went outside
a gush of winter, a blast
of the coming cold
pushed its way in,
pushed the warm air aside
sent a shiver through me
with a smell of snow
which will follow
all too soon
November 21, 2006 19:47
All of my poems are copyrighted by Raymond A. Foss, 2000, 2001, 2002, 2003, 2004, 2005, 2006, 2007, 2008, 2009, 2010, 2011, 2012. All rights reserved. Contact me at Ray Foss for usage. See all 19,010+ of my poems at http://www.raymondafoss.blogspot.com Poetry Where You Live.
Monday, November 20, 2006
A Knock on the Door
Was that a knock I heard on my door?
Am I imagining it; was it there?
Moving from kitchen to living room,
toward the outside door, peer out
a squirrel, one of THOSE squirrels,
looks at me, expectantly, urgently,
demandingly, for a prize, a treat
oh so smart am I, getting the human
that primate to do my bidding.
Was it really him that caused my stride
to the closed and locked door,
or was he a lucky beneficiary of fate
ready, opportunistic.
Great, now I need surveillance cameras
to monitor my door for
squirrelian perpetrators of “ring and run”
Was he laughing,
as I closed the door?
November 20, 2006 13:45
All of my poems are copyrighted by Raymond A. Foss, 2000, 2001, 2002, 2003, 2004, 2005, 2006, 2007, 2008, 2009, 2010, 2011, 2012. All rights reserved. Contact me at Ray Foss for usage. See all 20,790+ of my poems at http://www.raymondafoss.blogspot.com Poetry Where You Live.
Am I imagining it; was it there?
Moving from kitchen to living room,
toward the outside door, peer out
a squirrel, one of THOSE squirrels,
looks at me, expectantly, urgently,
demandingly, for a prize, a treat
oh so smart am I, getting the human
that primate to do my bidding.
Was it really him that caused my stride
to the closed and locked door,
or was he a lucky beneficiary of fate
ready, opportunistic.
Great, now I need surveillance cameras
to monitor my door for
squirrelian perpetrators of “ring and run”
Was he laughing,
as I closed the door?
November 20, 2006 13:45
All of my poems are copyrighted by Raymond A. Foss, 2000, 2001, 2002, 2003, 2004, 2005, 2006, 2007, 2008, 2009, 2010, 2011, 2012. All rights reserved. Contact me at Ray Foss for usage. See all 20,790+ of my poems at http://www.raymondafoss.blogspot.com Poetry Where You Live.
Ingathering
They ran/walked purposely, eagerly
from the chancel into the sanctuary,
out between the pews, by the rows
of smiling adults, the children of our church
going out to bring an offering of food
for the homeless, the shelters,
this season of harvest, of thanksgiving
Laughing, heavy laden with the bounty
of their ingathering, sharing the load
A boy and girl held the handles of a bag
marching down to the altar to present
their treasure to God
November 20, 2006 5:32
from the chancel into the sanctuary,
out between the pews, by the rows
of smiling adults, the children of our church
going out to bring an offering of food
for the homeless, the shelters,
this season of harvest, of thanksgiving
Laughing, heavy laden with the bounty
of their ingathering, sharing the load
A boy and girl held the handles of a bag
marching down to the altar to present
their treasure to God
November 20, 2006 5:32
All of my
poems are copyrighted by Raymond A. Foss, 2000, 2001, 2002, 2003, 2004, 2005,
2006, 2007, 2008, 2009, 2010, 2011, 2012, 2013, 2014. All rights reserved.
Contact me at Ray Foss
for usage. See all 33,930+ of my poems at www.raymondafoss.blogspot.com
Poetry Where You Live.
Sunday, November 19, 2006
Numbered Days in a Free Will World
Scripture creates a mystery of connecting
the various threads of faith, of numbered days by the creator
and free will to make choices, of an omniscient God
and a decision tree with countless choices by
an endless number of actors on the stage of life
Of preordained lives, and working toward perfection
But we forgot that we only know so much now,
that we will know all them
because the God that made the world,
can know the sum, the measure of each and every
every single choice of free will
that touches the life of a single soul,
every decision tree of every life
each life that intersects, impacts, effects even
a breath of life, a beat of the heart
or changes another’s life for an instant
There is congruity of the lessons in the good news
if we see it from the other side of the mirror
when order is made from the chaos of life
because it really was scripted from the birth of time
by the one who made it so in the beginning
and our paths are what the are
because they are, because he gave us life
and choice; but he knows the answers
and consequences of each one in turn
before they are made
November 19, 2006 22:02
All of my poems are copyrighted by Raymond A. Foss, 2000, 2001, 2002, 2003, 2004, 2005, 2006, 2007, 2008, 2009, 2010, 2011, 2012. All rights reserved. Contact me at Ray Foss for usage. See all 19,010+ of my poems at http://www.raymondafoss.blogspot.com Poetry Where You Live.
the various threads of faith, of numbered days by the creator
and free will to make choices, of an omniscient God
and a decision tree with countless choices by
an endless number of actors on the stage of life
Of preordained lives, and working toward perfection
But we forgot that we only know so much now,
that we will know all them
because the God that made the world,
can know the sum, the measure of each and every
every single choice of free will
that touches the life of a single soul,
every decision tree of every life
each life that intersects, impacts, effects even
a breath of life, a beat of the heart
or changes another’s life for an instant
There is congruity of the lessons in the good news
if we see it from the other side of the mirror
when order is made from the chaos of life
because it really was scripted from the birth of time
by the one who made it so in the beginning
and our paths are what the are
because they are, because he gave us life
and choice; but he knows the answers
and consequences of each one in turn
before they are made
November 19, 2006 22:02
All of my poems are copyrighted by Raymond A. Foss, 2000, 2001, 2002, 2003, 2004, 2005, 2006, 2007, 2008, 2009, 2010, 2011, 2012. All rights reserved. Contact me at Ray Foss for usage. See all 19,010+ of my poems at http://www.raymondafoss.blogspot.com Poetry Where You Live.
Questions of the Children
Impossible questions, real-life questions
rang through the church this week,
hard painful impossible questions of loss
of death in sudden and agonizingly long ways
of young lives lost to cancer, to SIDS,
of questions and loss for so many who knew them
who knew their parents, of the cascade of memory
that we all carry of our losses in this human life
when one we loved was lost
to the mystery of the time of death
the choosing of God, beyond our comprehension
and oh so far beyond our explanations
questions of the children left hanging in the air
frozen like the air itself will be all too soon
in the cold of winter
But we share the gift of the belief
in the resurrection and the coming of the kingdom
so we have an answer for death
in the promise of that future
however far off it may be
November 19, 2006 21:54
All of my poems are copyrighted by Raymond A. Foss, 2000, 2001, 2002, 2003, 2004, 2005, 2006, 2007, 2008, 2009, 2010, 2011, 2012. All rights reserved. Contact me at Ray Foss for usage. See all 19,010+ of my poems at http://www.raymondafoss.blogspot.com Poetry Where You Live.
rang through the church this week,
hard painful impossible questions of loss
of death in sudden and agonizingly long ways
of young lives lost to cancer, to SIDS,
of questions and loss for so many who knew them
who knew their parents, of the cascade of memory
that we all carry of our losses in this human life
when one we loved was lost
to the mystery of the time of death
the choosing of God, beyond our comprehension
and oh so far beyond our explanations
questions of the children left hanging in the air
frozen like the air itself will be all too soon
in the cold of winter
But we share the gift of the belief
in the resurrection and the coming of the kingdom
so we have an answer for death
in the promise of that future
however far off it may be
November 19, 2006 21:54
All of my poems are copyrighted by Raymond A. Foss, 2000, 2001, 2002, 2003, 2004, 2005, 2006, 2007, 2008, 2009, 2010, 2011, 2012. All rights reserved. Contact me at Ray Foss for usage. See all 19,010+ of my poems at http://www.raymondafoss.blogspot.com Poetry Where You Live.
Praying in the Wilderness
Praying in the wilderness,
a metaphor for the prayers of the people
chosen by God, the children of Abraham, of Jacob,
of Moses, the ones who have struggled, toiled,
trying to live up to the law, the holy Torah
praying for the intercession, for the healing
the communion with the God that chose them
that made covenant with them time and again
that heard the cries of the people, brought them
out of slavery, out of bondage; but marched them
in the desert, in the wilderness.
They pray still, to this day, for the coming,
the return of Elijah, the Messiah, the chosen one.
The do not share the grace, the belief,
that He was here; but it is prayers in the wilderness
that speak the truth of these people
of the separation, the loss of union
with their God and ours
November 19, 2006 21:47
All of my poems are copyrighted by Raymond A. Foss, 2000, 2001, 2002, 2003, 2004, 2005, 2006, 2007, 2008, 2009, 2010, 2011, 2012. All rights reserved. Contact me at Ray Foss for usage. See all 19,010+ of my poems at http://www.raymondafoss.blogspot.com Poetry Where You Live.
a metaphor for the prayers of the people
chosen by God, the children of Abraham, of Jacob,
of Moses, the ones who have struggled, toiled,
trying to live up to the law, the holy Torah
praying for the intercession, for the healing
the communion with the God that chose them
that made covenant with them time and again
that heard the cries of the people, brought them
out of slavery, out of bondage; but marched them
in the desert, in the wilderness.
They pray still, to this day, for the coming,
the return of Elijah, the Messiah, the chosen one.
The do not share the grace, the belief,
that He was here; but it is prayers in the wilderness
that speak the truth of these people
of the separation, the loss of union
with their God and ours
November 19, 2006 21:47
All of my poems are copyrighted by Raymond A. Foss, 2000, 2001, 2002, 2003, 2004, 2005, 2006, 2007, 2008, 2009, 2010, 2011, 2012. All rights reserved. Contact me at Ray Foss for usage. See all 19,010+ of my poems at http://www.raymondafoss.blogspot.com Poetry Where You Live.
Granting the Petition
Fervent prayer in the temple
a woman mouthing her petition to God
watched by a judging priest; but not for long
for he hears her truth, her anguish, her depression
her need for salvation through the comfort
of the God of her ancestors, the God of her people
the God he serves; He passes the peace with his words
now of comfort, of acknowledgement, of certainty
that their God is sustainer and answered of sacred prayer
her petition granted, and her spirits raised
no longer mocked, now the mother
of a prophet, the one God uses, separate and apart
for his purposes, to name a king, and then another
chosen by God for his people
November 19, 2006 21:40
1 Samuel 1:4-20
All of my poems are copyrighted by Raymond A. Foss, 2000, 2001, 2002, 2003, 2004, 2005, 2006, 2007, 2008, 2009, 2010, 2011, 2012. All rights reserved. Contact me at Ray Foss for usage. See all 19,010+ of my poems at http://www.raymondafoss.blogspot.com Poetry Where You Live.
a woman mouthing her petition to God
watched by a judging priest; but not for long
for he hears her truth, her anguish, her depression
her need for salvation through the comfort
of the God of her ancestors, the God of her people
the God he serves; He passes the peace with his words
now of comfort, of acknowledgement, of certainty
that their God is sustainer and answered of sacred prayer
her petition granted, and her spirits raised
no longer mocked, now the mother
of a prophet, the one God uses, separate and apart
for his purposes, to name a king, and then another
chosen by God for his people
November 19, 2006 21:40
1 Samuel 1:4-20
All of my poems are copyrighted by Raymond A. Foss, 2000, 2001, 2002, 2003, 2004, 2005, 2006, 2007, 2008, 2009, 2010, 2011, 2012. All rights reserved. Contact me at Ray Foss for usage. See all 19,010+ of my poems at http://www.raymondafoss.blogspot.com Poetry Where You Live.
Dona Nobis Pacem
These were the words they chanted,
prayed together, the six voices joined in a round
following the metronome of his direction
the movement of his hand
I felt the words, murmuring through the sanctuary
far down the center aisle I stood, offering basket in hand
joining their song in humming, not wanting to break the spell
of their singing, but sharing the ancient words of Latin
A capella voices, chasing each other in round,
wrapping us in the joy of the words
The words mean Give us Peace,
and they do, each time the band sings
softly, emphatically, spiritually,
those words of grace
November 19, 2006 21:32
prayed together, the six voices joined in a round
following the metronome of his direction
the movement of his hand
I felt the words, murmuring through the sanctuary
far down the center aisle I stood, offering basket in hand
joining their song in humming, not wanting to break the spell
of their singing, but sharing the ancient words of Latin
A capella voices, chasing each other in round,
wrapping us in the joy of the words
The words mean Give us Peace,
and they do, each time the band sings
softly, emphatically, spiritually,
those words of grace
November 19, 2006 21:32
edited January 4, 2014
Dona Nobis Pacem – v5
(editing version 3)
Edited November 27, 2013
Dona Nobis Pacem – v4
(editing version 2)
Edited August 24, 2013
Dona Nobis Pacem – v3
(from original)
Edited August 23, 2013
Dona
Nobis Pacem – v2
November 19, 2006 21:32
Dona
Nobis Pacem
Rejuvenation service
Wesley United Methodist Church
Concord, NH
All of my
poems are copyrighted by Raymond A. Foss, 2000, 2001, 2002, 2003, 2004, 2005,
2006, 2007, 2008, 2009, 2010, 2011, 2012, 2013, 2014. All rights reserved.
Contact me at Ray Foss
for usage. See all 34,390+ of my poems at www.raymondafoss.blogspot.com
Poetry Where You Live.
Hannah’s Prayer
She wept in prayer
for the missing element,
the unmet promise, the longing she had
the ridicule she faced, too much to bear
for the Lord had closed her womb,
and the one he didn’t love, bore him heirs
She prayed for that gift, for the joy
of bearing a son, for him, for her
a son who would be set apart,
belonging to God the days of his life
A son she bore, and he would be the one
the one chosen by God, chosen to be the
anointer of the kings, the ones who would
rule the chosen people, setting the course
for the people, under human masters
a monarchy, not a theocracy, would come
from the hand of the son she asked for
the son asked for of God, Samuel
November 19, 2006 21:24
1 Samuel 1:4-20
for the missing element,
the unmet promise, the longing she had
the ridicule she faced, too much to bear
for the Lord had closed her womb,
and the one he didn’t love, bore him heirs
She prayed for that gift, for the joy
of bearing a son, for him, for her
a son who would be set apart,
belonging to God the days of his life
A son she bore, and he would be the one
the one chosen by God, chosen to be the
anointer of the kings, the ones who would
rule the chosen people, setting the course
for the people, under human masters
a monarchy, not a theocracy, would come
from the hand of the son she asked for
the son asked for of God, Samuel
November 19, 2006 21:24
1 Samuel 1:4-20
All
of my poems are copyrighted by Raymond A. Foss, 2000, 2001, 2002, 2003, 2004,
2005, 2006, 2007, 2008, 2009, 2010, 2011, 2012, 2013, 2014. All rights
reserved. Contact me at Ray
Foss for usage. See all 30,720+ of my poems at www.raymondafoss.blogspot.com
Poetry Where You Live.
More than Bread
He brought tears to my eyes,
so quickly this time, because he paused
caught me with the pacing, the cadence
of his words, so rich with meaning,
meaning I treasure, relish, long to understand
“This is More than Bread” he said, holding up
the loaf of fresh-baked bread; “and this is
far more than just grape juice”
He broke the loaf and raised the goblet
intoning our hope in the mystery, the retelling
of the ancient sharing of the sacrifice
of the Christ, God with us, in the flesh
Again, with hushed words, dripping with emotion
November 19, 2006 21:17
All of my poems are copyrighted by Raymond A. Foss, 2000, 2001, 2002, 2003, 2004, 2005, 2006, 2007, 2008, 2009, 2010, 2011, 2012. All rights reserved. Contact me at Ray Foss for usage. See all 19,010+ of my poems at http://www.raymondafoss.blogspot.com Poetry Where You Live.
so quickly this time, because he paused
caught me with the pacing, the cadence
of his words, so rich with meaning,
meaning I treasure, relish, long to understand
“This is More than Bread” he said, holding up
the loaf of fresh-baked bread; “and this is
far more than just grape juice”
He broke the loaf and raised the goblet
intoning our hope in the mystery, the retelling
of the ancient sharing of the sacrifice
of the Christ, God with us, in the flesh
Again, with hushed words, dripping with emotion
November 19, 2006 21:17
All of my poems are copyrighted by Raymond A. Foss, 2000, 2001, 2002, 2003, 2004, 2005, 2006, 2007, 2008, 2009, 2010, 2011, 2012. All rights reserved. Contact me at Ray Foss for usage. See all 19,010+ of my poems at http://www.raymondafoss.blogspot.com Poetry Where You Live.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
