Three Poems for September
This post is the second in a series. For those of you who wish to attend poetry readings or wish to attend more poetry readings than you already have, but are hindered by time, distance and a lack thereof, here are a few poem recommendations from poets who have been published on our poetry blog.
Christine Laws writes:
“Open Fields” reminds me of Robert Frost’s poetry: the language, lovely and plain—the meaning, layered and profound. Most folks can understand the basic words used, but some readers may dig deeper and discover more. Rhyme and Rhythm quietly walk along while concrete images appear, decorating the landscape. Why write verse that only the poet can comprehend? “Open Fields” generously shares a story, yet also offers spiritual insights beyond the literal jaunt.
“Open Fields” by Rebecca Weber
Once I longed to claim the mountain,
Make my habitation there.
Yearned to leave the narrow valley
Full of labor and despair.
But explosions shook that mountain—
Threw its pieces far and wide—
Dreams that once had filled my valley
Fell beneath debris and died.
Seasons passed, and dust clouds settled
Still I wandered on, confused;
Why such utter desolation?
Why such lofty dreams refused?
Slowly as I journeyed onward,
Shattered ground gave way to street.
God cleared order out of ruin,
Leveled pathways for my feet.
Open fields appeared beside me,
Clearings widened in my mind.
Seeds were sown and sunshine beckoned
New green hope for me to find.
I no longer dream of mountains.
Here flows milk and honeycomb;
In the plains, God makes me prosper.
Open fields are now my home.
https://journeyintohislight.wordpress.com/2024/05/28/open-fields/
Sarah J. Martin writes:
I discovered this poem at a time when I really needed it. The most poignant line for me is “As slow rain fills an empty, upturned cup.” It will not happen fast, this healing you’re needing, and your heart must be in the right place; but then, the filling is promised. Grace Noll Crowell writes gently of homey, simple things and of a walk through pain and suffering that changed her. Her style is simple and consistent and would get tedious as a sole diet, but it speaks to the everyday experience of the human heart.
“For One Who is Tired” by Grace Noll Crowell
Dear heart, God does not say today, ‘Be strong’;
He knows your strength is spent, He knows how long
The road has been, how weary you have grown;
For He walked the earthly roads alone,
Each bogging lowland and each long, steep hill,
He understands, and so He says, ‘Be still,
And know that I am God.’ The hour is late,
And you must rest awhile, and you must wait
Until life’s empty reservoirs fill up,
As slow rain fills an empty upturned cup.
Hold up your cup, dear child, for God to fill.
He only asks today that you be still.
Marlene Brubacher writes:
A friend sent me this poem during the five long years that I was helping care for a bedfast old lady from our church. I still remember it at odd hours around the lump in my throat as I do personal care and dispense cookies and medication for my grandmother with dementia: “Master, come.”
Although the truth and the emotion connected with me first, I’m impressed with the craft. Brevity? Imagery? Nuance? Strong Orienting Title? All here. And Restraint—the poet is grieving, but her emotional restraint welcomes us to share the bewilderment and loss. The terse monosyllables increase this effect. And I’m always struck with the last line break: it looks like “Master, come with your light” until we read on and find the halter. I am sure this double entendre was not accidental, for when the Master finally arrives with His halter, all will be Light at last, at last.
“In the Nursing Home” by Jane Kenyon
She is like a horse grazing
a hill pasture that someone makes
smaller by coming every night
to pull the fences in and in.
She has stopped running wide loops,
stopped even the tight circles.
She drops her head to feed; grass
is dust, and the creekbed’s dry.
Master, come with your light
halter. Come and bring her in.