There it was, once again
melting my heart,
a puddle of goo,
no longer thinking of the day ahead
Shy, sly, sneak up on you smile
from down in her chest
forcing it through, into her cheeks,
her lips, her whole face
iridescent and shattering
the troubles, the stress
of the moment, gone’
in that instant that smile
reached my heart
November 3, 2007 1:03pm
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 18,700+ of my poems at http://www.raymondafoss.blogspot.com Poetry Where You Live.
Saturday, November 03, 2007
Thursday, November 01, 2007
A Peasant amid the Royalty
A single brown oak leave
perched in the purple chrysanthemums
in the window box outside the back door
A peasant drawing attention, pulling the eye
in contrast to the plum of the flowers
the fading green before the killing frost
A bit of jetsam forestalling the final fall
to the earth, sharing the limelight
with the stars of the show,
snuck on stage, before security comes
and it falls finally to earth
to merge with its compatriots
in a sea of leaves
amid the garden’s flowers
November 1, 2007 2:00pm
perched in the purple chrysanthemums
in the window box outside the back door
A peasant drawing attention, pulling the eye
in contrast to the plum of the flowers
the fading green before the killing frost
A bit of jetsam forestalling the final fall
to the earth, sharing the limelight
with the stars of the show,
snuck on stage, before security comes
and it falls finally to earth
to merge with its compatriots
in a sea of leaves
amid the garden’s flowers
November 1, 2007 2:00pm
Stories
So many stories, many of pain
on the faces, in the eyes,
the furtive eyes, the postures,
the countenance of the people
waiting for their children,
just outside the gate
each weekday, around the corner
Names unknown, other than Mommy,
Daddy, intimate names joyously raised
by daughters, sons, with colorful names
carrying brand-new artwork,
creations to share
See their faces melt, change for a moment
in the joy of a five year old’s gift, their touch
But so many stories,
untold stories, in silence
hidden behind their eyes
their sunken cheeks, huddled bodies
against the cold,
against the demons they carry
here in the center of the city,
the urban melting pot
with stories in languages
we don’t understand
histories beyond our imagination,
our dread, if we only knew the stories
behind those eyes
November 1, 2007 1:50pm
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 18,700+ of my poems at http://www.raymondafoss.blogspot.com Poetry Where You Live.
on the faces, in the eyes,
the furtive eyes, the postures,
the countenance of the people
waiting for their children,
just outside the gate
each weekday, around the corner
Names unknown, other than Mommy,
Daddy, intimate names joyously raised
by daughters, sons, with colorful names
carrying brand-new artwork,
creations to share
See their faces melt, change for a moment
in the joy of a five year old’s gift, their touch
But so many stories,
untold stories, in silence
hidden behind their eyes
their sunken cheeks, huddled bodies
against the cold,
against the demons they carry
here in the center of the city,
the urban melting pot
with stories in languages
we don’t understand
histories beyond our imagination,
our dread, if we only knew the stories
behind those eyes
November 1, 2007 1:50pm
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 18,700+ of my poems at http://www.raymondafoss.blogspot.com Poetry Where You Live.
Babushka
She was walking on the sidewalk
just around the corner from home,
from her place here is the city
so much a woman of her place
her piece of history, in the old country
She was of that greatest generation
if that is what they call it in Budapest,
or Warsaw, or Moskva.
Scarf pulled tight against the familiar wind
apron tied, over the heavy dress
head down, watching her steps
thick sturdy shoes, a shuffling gait
an old worn coat
Living in the neighborhood
within the bubble of family and language
November 1, 2007 1:17pm
http://raymondafoss.blogspot.com/2007/11/babushka.html
just around the corner from home,
from her place here is the city
so much a woman of her place
her piece of history, in the old country
She was of that greatest generation
if that is what they call it in Budapest,
or Warsaw, or Moskva.
Scarf pulled tight against the familiar wind
apron tied, over the heavy dress
head down, watching her steps
thick sturdy shoes, a shuffling gait
an old worn coat
Living in the neighborhood
within the bubble of family and language
November 1, 2007 1:17pm
http://raymondafoss.blogspot.com/2007/11/babushka.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 33,570+ of my poems at www.raymondafoss.blogspot.com
Poetry Where You Live.
Black Velour
He sat quietly, patiently it seemed
wrapped in black velour
new purchase, or at least well maintained
Sitting, up on the box from his shopping
A sweat suit that never saw exercise
velour beret perched on his brow
covering his thinning hair
Waiting on the grassy margin
of the parking lot
What was he waiting for,
where was he going
wrapped in black velour
against the November cold
November 1, 2007 1:09pm
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 18,700+ of my poems at http://www.raymondafoss.blogspot.com Poetry Where You Live.
wrapped in black velour
new purchase, or at least well maintained
Sitting, up on the box from his shopping
A sweat suit that never saw exercise
velour beret perched on his brow
covering his thinning hair
Waiting on the grassy margin
of the parking lot
What was he waiting for,
where was he going
wrapped in black velour
against the November cold
November 1, 2007 1:09pm
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 18,700+ of my poems at http://www.raymondafoss.blogspot.com Poetry Where You Live.
Shafts of Light
Faint shafts of light
falling down from the grey, milky sky
ribbons of a lighter grey, almost white
cutting through the pillowed clouds
layered batting, rolled and piled
feathers of light, pushing downward
gravity heavy, straight lines
overlaying the rounded shapes
through which they slice
Falling to earth,
I know not where
shafts of light,
cutting the air
November 1, 2007 1:01pm
falling down from the grey, milky sky
ribbons of a lighter grey, almost white
cutting through the pillowed clouds
layered batting, rolled and piled
feathers of light, pushing downward
gravity heavy, straight lines
overlaying the rounded shapes
through which they slice
Falling to earth,
I know not where
shafts of light,
cutting the air
November 1, 2007 1:01pm
Faded Glory
Flapping in the cold wind
the grey skies, the feel of winter so soon
the flagpole out of the small house
held tightly against the blast
a flag of our country
snapping, tattered edges
faded threads, lines in the stitching
almost translucent now
How long has it been a sentinel
stood on watch, to honor
to remind, to remember
snapping tight in the wind
waving at attention
November 1, 2007 12:57pm
the grey skies, the feel of winter so soon
the flagpole out of the small house
held tightly against the blast
a flag of our country
snapping, tattered edges
faded threads, lines in the stitching
almost translucent now
How long has it been a sentinel
stood on watch, to honor
to remind, to remember
snapping tight in the wind
waving at attention
November 1, 2007 12:57pm
The Wind out my Window
The oak tree’s leaves
didn’t stand a chance
under the glowering gray sky today
they were more than just rustling
though they did seem to get
temporary reprieves
off and on
The noise of the computer, the fish tank
the sounds of the house
hid the sound of the wind
beyond the window pane
but the wind made its presence known
just out there, in the dance of the oak
the push on the leaves
fighting a losing battle
to hold on to summer
ever as they had already
gone fall brown and yellow
November 1, 2007 11:57am
didn’t stand a chance
under the glowering gray sky today
they were more than just rustling
though they did seem to get
temporary reprieves
off and on
The noise of the computer, the fish tank
the sounds of the house
hid the sound of the wind
beyond the window pane
but the wind made its presence known
just out there, in the dance of the oak
the push on the leaves
fighting a losing battle
to hold on to summer
ever as they had already
gone fall brown and yellow
November 1, 2007 11:57am
By Our Deeds
The Spirit, inscribed on our hearts
finds shape, manifested, given life
by our deeds. We become
in those moments of love
God incarnate, living echoes
of the Son, the Word made flesh
emissaries of His service, His mission
Ministers to the last, the least, the lost
wherever they encounter our hands to the cross
our feet on the road, the Way, walking with Him
We live out our purpose, our path
when the words written on our hearts
live through our deeds
November 1, 2007 11:23am
2 Corinthians 3:1-3
finds shape, manifested, given life
by our deeds. We become
in those moments of love
God incarnate, living echoes
of the Son, the Word made flesh
emissaries of His service, His mission
Ministers to the last, the least, the lost
wherever they encounter our hands to the cross
our feet on the road, the Way, walking with Him
We live out our purpose, our path
when the words written on our hearts
live through our deeds
November 1, 2007 11:23am
2 Corinthians 3:1-3
Tethered Dancer
Her pirouette
caught, held captive
spinning around the invisible cord
her arms akimbo,
bent up to her chin
her leg, toes pointed
to the ground
tethered dancer,
blowing in the breeze
watched for a moment
by this adoring fan
seeing you from down below
watching your dance
in place
November 1, 2007 11:16am
based on the swamp maple leaf I saw caught
in a spider’s web at the back of Beech Street School
this morning, while dropping off Shyanne
caught, held captive
spinning around the invisible cord
her arms akimbo,
bent up to her chin
her leg, toes pointed
to the ground
tethered dancer,
blowing in the breeze
watched for a moment
by this adoring fan
seeing you from down below
watching your dance
in place
November 1, 2007 11:16am
based on the swamp maple leaf I saw caught
in a spider’s web at the back of Beech Street School
this morning, while dropping off Shyanne
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 31,150+ of my poems at www.raymondafoss.blogspot.com
Poetry Where You Live.
God Incarnate
No merely the baby,
every offspring, every child
with the Spirit within us
God incarnate
through our actions,
not our first birth
showing God’s love
through our hands, our feet
His word written on our hearts
worked out in our lives
shared with all
November 1, 2007 7:53am
2 Corinthians 3:1-3
every offspring, every child
with the Spirit within us
God incarnate
through our actions,
not our first birth
showing God’s love
through our hands, our feet
His word written on our hearts
worked out in our lives
shared with all
November 1, 2007 7:53am
2 Corinthians 3:1-3
Incarnation
The child in the manger,
the baby in the mother’s arms,
the saints all around us
each a member of the family
a bit of God here with us
in the ancient story
in the living of our days
we are blessed, graced
by the incarnate God
walking with us
November 1, 2007 7:50am
2 Corinthians 3:1-3
the baby in the mother’s arms,
the saints all around us
each a member of the family
a bit of God here with us
in the ancient story
in the living of our days
we are blessed, graced
by the incarnate God
walking with us
November 1, 2007 7:50am
2 Corinthians 3:1-3
Wednesday, October 31, 2007
Monday, October 29, 2007
exploding neural pathways
random connection to long forgotten facts
scraps of thoughts deep within my consciousness
triggered by a word, a conversation,
music, talk on the radio,
the gust of wind this morning on the walk to school
with the girls, the whiff of smoke of a fall fire
in the fireplace, the smell of coffee, of food baking
the feel of a bit of bark, of the wet grounds in the trash
each a means of exploding neural pathways
of sudden burst of thought, or energy
weaving together that which was hidden deep down
with the instant now, the unique moment in the present
tying something in my unconscious, to long ago
to see the relationship of something today
with some deeper meaning, awareness
grasp of thought
October 29, 2007 1:17pm
I came across the text string “exploding neural pathways”
randomly via Google at the site:
http://toomuchinformationplease.blogspot.com/
(Too Much Information !!*@!: Yes).
The poem above came from my own thoughts on that phrase
scraps of thoughts deep within my consciousness
triggered by a word, a conversation,
music, talk on the radio,
the gust of wind this morning on the walk to school
with the girls, the whiff of smoke of a fall fire
in the fireplace, the smell of coffee, of food baking
the feel of a bit of bark, of the wet grounds in the trash
each a means of exploding neural pathways
of sudden burst of thought, or energy
weaving together that which was hidden deep down
with the instant now, the unique moment in the present
tying something in my unconscious, to long ago
to see the relationship of something today
with some deeper meaning, awareness
grasp of thought
October 29, 2007 1:17pm
I came across the text string “exploding neural pathways”
randomly via Google at the site:
http://toomuchinformationplease.blogspot.com/
(Too Much Information !!*@!: Yes).
The poem above came from my own thoughts on that phrase
Author of Heaven and Earth
Not merely Creator, if that makes sense,
because a creator makes something,
often from other parts, pieces,
puts things together in new and creative ways
No, He is the Author of Heaven and Earth,
making it out of nothingness, out of His mind’s eye
out of His word, His hands, His heart, His love
the world, the heavens, the earth,
and all in, on and above it
came into existence,
as an author conjures characters
on the printed pages
out of nothingness,
created new and whole
So is God, the author of heaven and earth
October 29, 2007 12:01pm
Their Eyes Opened
In the same sharing
of the bread,
His blessing, His breaking
of the bread, an epiphany
a revelation that they were
in the presence of, were eating with
the risen Lord
on the day of His rising.
With awareness, He left tem
in an instant
October 28, 2007
Luke 24:13-35
Walk to Emmaus
of the bread,
His blessing, His breaking
of the bread, an epiphany
a revelation that they were
in the presence of, were eating with
the risen Lord
on the day of His rising.
With awareness, He left tem
in an instant
October 28, 2007
Luke 24:13-35
Walk to Emmaus
Opening the Scriptures
The risen Lord, walking with them
opening the scriptures, explaining them
clearing the mysteries, the true meaning
the fulfillment, His story foretold, the prophets,
the law made flesh, the tablets
the commandments lived out
by a righteous man,
a humbled servant, a shepherd
made the sacrificial lamb
the Passover meal,
now a breaking of His body
the shedding of His blood
All of the ancient texts, the prophets
interpreted, made clear
to cause hearts to burn
with awareness
October 28, 2007
Luke 24:13-35
Walk to Emmaus
opening the scriptures, explaining them
clearing the mysteries, the true meaning
the fulfillment, His story foretold, the prophets,
the law made flesh, the tablets
the commandments lived out
by a righteous man,
a humbled servant, a shepherd
made the sacrificial lamb
the Passover meal,
now a breaking of His body
the shedding of His blood
All of the ancient texts, the prophets
interpreted, made clear
to cause hearts to burn
with awareness
October 28, 2007
Luke 24:13-35
Walk to Emmaus
Sunday, October 28, 2007
Feed My Sheep
Follow me, and feed my sheep
the Master to the Rock
a sheep made a shepherd, the seed planted
to germinate within him
until the seed began to bear fruit
after the flames ignited his fire
gave him voice that Pentecost
after the cloistering, the separation
of the apostles, the first on the way
These were the words, affirming in threes,
just as was his denial, that night after the garden
when the twelve followers, ran
fell away from the Master
These were the words,
the admonition and response
follow me, feed my sheep
Yes Lord, I will
October 28, 2007 7:18pm
John 21:1-22
&
Acts 2:1-11
the Master to the Rock
a sheep made a shepherd, the seed planted
to germinate within him
until the seed began to bear fruit
after the flames ignited his fire
gave him voice that Pentecost
after the cloistering, the separation
of the apostles, the first on the way
These were the words, affirming in threes,
just as was his denial, that night after the garden
when the twelve followers, ran
fell away from the Master
These were the words,
the admonition and response
follow me, feed my sheep
Yes Lord, I will
October 28, 2007 7:18pm
John 21:1-22
&
Acts 2:1-11
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 27,410+ of my poems at www.raymondafoss.blogspot.com
Poetry Where You Live.
Freedom to Choose
Unique to man, alone in the animal world
the freedom to choose, to make your own path
to set priorities, to chart what is important
where your time is, there is your heart
where your treasure lies, what holds claim
consciously chosen, or by default
what energizes you,
motivates, gives you purpose
centers and grounds
choosing your course
October 27, 2007
the freedom to choose, to make your own path
to set priorities, to chart what is important
where your time is, there is your heart
where your treasure lies, what holds claim
consciously chosen, or by default
what energizes you,
motivates, gives you purpose
centers and grounds
choosing your course
October 27, 2007
Chasing Emily
When I started, a little more than a year ago,
I had no idea, no thought, that I would be chasing Emily
hurtling inexplicably to the place I am now,
having topped her count, her wealth of poems,
her words, my words, the words given to me
reaching a count greater than hers
sitting with more than the others have
shared on these pages
A strange place indeed, rarified air
for an unpublished poet
October 28, 2007 4:12pm
on reaching my 1,780th poem, and passing
Emily Dickinson as the poet with the most poems
on www.famouspoetsandpoems.com.
When my name was added to their list
on June 25, 2006, I had 527 poems.
I had no idea, no thought, that I would be chasing Emily
hurtling inexplicably to the place I am now,
having topped her count, her wealth of poems,
her words, my words, the words given to me
reaching a count greater than hers
sitting with more than the others have
shared on these pages
A strange place indeed, rarified air
for an unpublished poet
October 28, 2007 4:12pm
on reaching my 1,780th poem, and passing
Emily Dickinson as the poet with the most poems
on www.famouspoetsandpoems.com.
When my name was added to their list
on June 25, 2006, I had 527 poems.
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