• [CHRISTIA] new poetry, "The Same Way"

    From Mark@1:396/4 to Practical Christian Life on Sun Jun 14 12:57:45 2020
    From: lamppoet@CENTURYTEL.NET (Mark)

    Of pain and judgement



    The Same Way



    ( Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not much more
    valuable than they? Matthew 6:26)



    I judged so hard I cannot see what the judging meant to me.

    I dug so deep the stones slept below the shoveled repeats.
    I ran so fast the artificial track burned my barefoot heels and
    artificial grass. Run again, to hide from the looks that guided
    the criticism back at me. Running still, to discover the hopeful dollar
    because I knocked one hour longer than all the rest.



    I m feeling the same way all over again.



    I have not been fed like a pet left alone with a bowl and water,
    like a parrot talking to the air or a
    cat reigning from the sunlit chair.
    All the desires, nearly most, and some of the best,
    were coffee houses on open mike Fridays,
    were student-published staple-bound copies that
    made the rounds from temporary buildings on the edge of campus
    to dots on a page of the Milton press.

    I ve never liked sandwiches; bologna or tuna; but when a sunny friend
    asked would I stay for lunch,
    I ate like a seaside caf had plated the catch of the day.



    I m tasting the same way all over again.



    I thought he sang better, (no, I knew it true) but we sang together
    the light and the blue, the crystal and the few lyrics we pieced
    from our own short minds and limited time. A single night recording,
    four track Teac tape, sitting on my brother s bed; we said this
    was our best, an acoustic set. Two guitars, a recorder, a trumpet
    and a flute. We sang of the Lamb of God, the one slain before
    earth s foundation was laid.



    I m searching the same sound all over again.



    Yet pain is still the song the brings shadows unbidden;
    sleepless, my thoughts are hidden behind grammatical corrections
    and dramatic protests to my Autumn. Well-fed, sleep is
    the only option what leaves my mind simply rested.


    11-21-15 Mark a. Phillips



    mark p.

    lamppoet@centurytel.net



    Mark's Blog

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