Poetry
“Humanity”
Beneath faded slivers the moon pushes
Through split timber beams
That cradle muddy straw
Whose dirty strands reach down
Toward the holy scene
Within tattered cloths that so carefully
Wrapped, encase the fresh
Tiny form promised by ancient prophets
And worshipped by men whose
Cheeks of crimson glow
Among spectators of men and woman
Surrounded by livestock
Whose evaporating plumes
Float and fall into darkness
As they signal every awe-struck moan
The babe lay still
But for the rhythm
Of his tiny frame
Filling his tiny lungs
With the rush
Of pure
Humanity
“What Glorious Ring 'Round His Sacred Head That Glows”
What glorious ring 'round his sacred head that glows
Its orb of light giving notice to the earth
Your Saviour lies with the beasts in humble state
The straw, the dust he embraced so long ago
As home of this so divine and holy birth
Come kneel the babe and our king he lays in wait
What tender head that enthrones the blessed mind
So filled to infinite end of mystery hid
From those who gather to worship at his bed
Such burden laid by the suffering yet to find
The curse he took on himself so he might rid
Humanity from the path the devil led
What tiny hands that lay clenched in tiny fists
How sweet his innocent breath so gently falls
In awe the hope of the audience so still
His open hands stretch beneath his punctured wrists
That final breath to his holy Father calls
Where now he hangs in submission to His will
What chilling sound from the host of angel's cries
That minor chord which did fill all heaven's bounds
The terror clangs to the corners of that realm
Its haunting noise that did cause the sun to hide
Behind the moon where so crouched he peeked around
To see his maker removed his thorny helm
What place to house the eternal blessed son
Still dark and damp was the place his body laid
His head still held in his mother's careful grasp
The gifts of spice still his bed were poured upon
Again the cloth now his meagre robe it made
And yet within still his time would come to pass
Beneath faded slivers the moon pushes
Through split timber beams
That cradle muddy straw
Whose dirty strands reach down
Toward the holy scene
Within tattered cloths that so carefully
Wrapped, encase the fresh
Tiny form promised by ancient prophets
And worshipped by men whose
Cheeks of crimson glow
Among spectators of men and woman
Surrounded by livestock
Whose evaporating plumes
Float and fall into darkness
As they signal every awe-
The babe lay still
But for the rhythm
Of his tiny frame
Filling his tiny lungs
With the rush
Of pure
Humanity
“What Glorious Ring 'Round His Sacred Head That Glows”
What glorious ring 'round his sacred head that glows
Its orb of light giving notice to the earth
Your Saviour lies with the beasts in humble state
The straw, the dust he embraced so long ago
As home of this so divine and holy birth
Come kneel the babe and our king he lays in wait
What tender head that enthrones the blessed mind
So filled to infinite end of mystery hid
From those who gather to worship at his bed
Such burden laid by the suffering yet to find
The curse he took on himself so he might rid
Humanity from the path the devil led
What tiny hands that lay clenched in tiny fists
How sweet his innocent breath so gently falls
In awe the hope of the audience so still
His open hands stretch beneath his punctured wrists
That final breath to his holy Father calls
Where now he hangs in submission to His will
What chilling sound from the host of angel's cries
That minor chord which did fill all heaven's bounds
The terror clangs to the corners of that realm
Its haunting noise that did cause the sun to hide
Behind the moon where so crouched he peeked around
To see his maker removed his thorny helm
What place to house the eternal blessed son
Still dark and damp was the place his body laid
His head still held in his mother's careful grasp
The gifts of spice still his bed were poured upon
Again the cloth now his meagre robe it made
And yet within still his time would come to pass
“O Pierced Brow”
O pierced brow which now turned t'ward the sky
That spills upon his bruised and swollen eye
The witness of all heav'n's eternal reach
And seer of that final banquet feast
Now closed behind those brutal, fisted blows
Your punctures each determination shows
Beyond the will a mortal man could hold
Now furrowed at the way your scars were sold
“How Sour The Cup”
How sour the cup he shared within the room
His fate unknown to those with whom they ate
Its rancid taste again he’d know so soon
Those begging lips failed to delay their fate
Condemned he faced the soldiers stripped and nude
Their mocking gift: a robe placed on his back
The crimson spilt was hidden in its hue
While now his body’s cloaked in deepest black
For here he hangs his earthly shell grows cold
Above the metal cast by Roman hands
A fist of coins like that for which was sold
This lifeless frame that now but death demands
What picture placed a-top that dusty hill
Of cruel iron nail and steely will
“The Glowing Red Cross On The Hill”
The glowing red cross on the hill
By the tracks
Staring at the river
While men collect tin currency
Under its light
Is sometimes blurred by the low lying fog
Sneaking off the river
Its neon buzz unnoticeable
To those living across the street
Locked behind
The intermittent hum of my windshield wipers
I approach
Over the bridge
The glowing red cross on the hill
Can be seen from
Almost anywhere
In town
O pierced brow which now turned t'ward the sky
That spills upon his bruised and swollen eye
The witness of all heav'n's eternal reach
And seer of that final banquet feast
Now closed behind those brutal, fisted blows
Your punctures each determination shows
Beyond the will a mortal man could hold
Now furrowed at the way your scars were sold
“How Sour The Cup”
How sour the cup he shared within the room
His fate unknown to those with whom they ate
Its rancid taste again he’d know so soon
Those begging lips failed to delay their fate
Condemned he faced the soldiers stripped and nude
Their mocking gift: a robe placed on his back
The crimson spilt was hidden in its hue
While now his body’s cloaked in deepest black
For here he hangs his earthly shell grows cold
Above the metal cast by Roman hands
A fist of coins like that for which was sold
This lifeless frame that now but death demands
What picture placed a-
“The Glowing Red Cross On The Hill”
The glowing red cross on the hill
By the tracks
Staring at the river
While men collect tin currency
Under its light
Is sometimes blurred by the low lying fog
Sneaking off the river
Its neon buzz unnoticeable
To those living across the street
Locked behind
The intermittent hum of my windshield wipers
I approach
Over the bridge
The glowing red cross on the hill
Can be seen from
Almost anywhere
In town
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