Showing posts with label poetry. Show all posts
Showing posts with label poetry. Show all posts

Wednesday, August 26, 2015

Found Poetry #2

He could not pass by a child without emotion. 
That's the nature of the man.

You pass by a little child,
spiteful, 
with ugly words, 
with wrathful heart; 
you may not have noticed the child, 
but he has seen you, 
and your image, 
unseemly and ignoble, 
may remain in his defenseless heart. 

from The Brothers Karamazov by Fyodor Dostoevsky
http://www.bluffton.edu/~bergerd/classes/las400/handouts/karamazov/book6chapter03c.html




Sunday, April 5, 2015

Season of Shame Part 7

i.

the four Marys
and the other women
followed after
and watched His tomb

no need for perfumes
no need for spices

sometimes
in the kingdom
just being there
makes a difference

sympathy.


ii.

the echo of hammer blows
across the hill
is long gone
justice is rolled down
like the stone
in My grave
don’t call the gardener
to mourning
and those skilled in laments
to wail
don’t hold a banquet
no victory parades
just prepare a piece
of broiled fish
run!
prepare to meet
your God

resurrection.


Friday, April 3, 2015

Season of Shame Part 6

i.

not the cruel nails
not the cross of shame
great drops of blood
falling down
like an oil
out of the flinty rock
it mingled with
the strange
twisted trunks
the twinkling of the leaves
under the moonlight
did not make Your heart
dance with delight

agony.



ii.

He is waiting
For the arresting party
the time has come
for another treachery

no need for a wicked kiss
I am He, I am He
I AM, I AM

the soldiers fall
they hide their faces

Arise! 
I lay it down 
I lay it down 

the disciples
escaped with intact ears
while He was led
as a sheep


captive.

iii.

the heavens
You covered with shade
the desert
You covered with bread
but You choose
not to hide Your face
like an unveiled passage
to the Most Holy Place
I am willfully blinded
I didn't see Your face


shame.

iv.

Rebel!
Tax evader!
A threat to Rome!
All the efforts of men
and demons
ringing through−
fiercely,constantly
shrieking out from
bloodthirsty throats.

Why are you silent O Lamb ?
Why are you silent?
like a sheep before her shearers,
is dumb.
plead,
plead with the wolves.

is this the troublesome revolutionary?
is this the king who is a rival to Caesar?
is this the Man?
envy, just envy, that is all.

Galilee! O Galilee!
It is over. It is over.


vicious.


v.

and they said...
what?
...Barabbas...Barabbas.
why?
what evil has He done?
destroy Him
let His blood be on us
let His blood be on our children


jolted.

vi.

”
He said to Him,
“What is truth?”
without waiting for a reply
he went out to
the Jews and said unto them,
I find in Him no fault at all.

A man convinced that truth
is trivial
The man who cannot afford
to be true and right
just told the truth
about the Truth.


errand.


vii.

Behold the man
Your pretty king
look at His swollen face, black and blue
with the slaps and the spittle all over it
whose head is crushed with crown of thorns,
whose back and sides are ripped raw
His internal organs dangling,
gaping gashes,
open wounds,
streaking blood.

There’s no beauty that we
should desire Him.

flagellations.


viii

A touch of pity,
no one.
"No, no," they say.
Sin is better than Christ.
Crucify him! Crucify him!
This basin of water
can’t wash
wicked hands .

bloodthirsty.


ix.

THIS IS JESUS OF NAZARETH,
THE KING OF THE JEWS
The plaque around His neck
Was then nailed over His head
Even Caesar’s mocking revenge
Praises Christ

gospel.



xi.

they planned
to throw Him down
and stone Him to death
dash to the ground by stones

instead
He was lifted up
and reach
the lowest of depth
the cross
a stumbling block
a stumbling block
majestic!
glorious!


fixed.


xii

in the day that I stood
on the other side
in the day that strangers
carried You away captive
and cast lots for your clothes−
even I were
as one of them
for violence
against My Savior
shame
shall cover me

conniver.


xiii.

some watch Him for curiosity
some to make sure that He really did die
some even delighted their cruel eyes
they who passed by
reviled Him
wagging their heads
every word  was emphatic
every syllable
cut and pierced
to the heart
the sun could no longer look
upon its Maker
he covered his face
and travelled on
in tenfold night
the earth wanted
to swallow up
His mockers!

shame.



xiv

his agonized
dropping meekly
down upon His
left breast
the thorny crown
causing drops of blood
to trickle down His
right cheek
right of Him is a thief
on the left is another thief
even the lowest of the low
would mock Him
in His loneliness

parallel.


xv.

the soldiers mock His claims−
pathetic, ridiculous joker king
cohorts of robbers, criminals
casting the same insult
the passing crowd
wagging their heads
come down from the cross
clown, fool
another crucified man
The chief priests, scribes, corrupt leaders
Mockery reaches its pinnacle

He endured  it all
He endured  it all
Hanging on the cross, He said,
“Father, forgive them…”



xvi.

a soldier is moved
to pity (is it?)
he took  a sponge
dipped it in a vessel
full of sour wine
put it on a branch of  hyssop
he ran and lift it up
to Your ovened lips
my lukewarm heart
is worst than it


thirsty.


xvii.

You took a bunch of hyssop
Dipped it in Your blood
and strike the lintel
and the doorposts
of my heart


marked.



xviii.

what despair
what death
all around
I am a thief now
and a skull after
but Lord, remember me
one thought from Your loving mind
and that shall satisfy me
crucified man trusting
in a crucified Savior
come then Roman bone-breaker
come then expressive silence
muse His praise!
I am called, too
called and bidden!


paradise.


 xix.

the Brazen Serpent
was lifted up
look!
it is naught but “look!”
it is simply “look!”
if thou canst but look
to Jesus
thou art safe
hear the voice of the Redeemer
“look unto Me, and be ye saved”
look! look! look!
O guilty souls


look.



xx.

..then they will look on Me whom they pierced.
Zechariah 12:10

Your heart was opened by the spear
The spear let loose the blood and water
“Reach here, your hand, and thrust it into My side.”
So, Thomas put his hand.
A passage to the heart always open!
—ready to receive any message
—ready to respond with the love
that has its fountain there!
Behold the open heart!
There is no love like that
with the open heart
—Your love with the opened heart
—with the open side!


pierced.



xxi

Do you see that Savior there?
He is hanging on the cross;
there are His dear hands,
pierced with nails,
nailed to a tree,
as if they were waiting for
your tardy footsteps,
because you would not come.

Do you see His dear head there?
It is hanging on His breast,
as if He would lean over,
and kiss your poor soul.

Do you see His blood,
gushing from His head,
His hands, His feet, His side?
It is running after you;
because He knew that
you would never run after it.


xxii.

Who is a God like unto Thee, who pardonethiniquity,
andpasseth by the transgression...(Micah7:18a)

Thousands of rams and
Ten thousand rivers of oil for
Four thousand years

Then came the Scandalous Night...

Only the Body and Blood Satisfied
 -Angels & Demons kneeled
-Justice and Mercy kissed
In God’s Majestic Glory!

elements.


xxiii.

they hated You without a cause
not a purple but a scarlet robe
not the heavy crossbeam
but the stigma of disgrace
an inscription that says Nazareth
but King
your arms raised
down
the Marys were there
but You were all alone
– left by God
from afar they wept
but the world rejoiced
a cheap, sour wine
that resulted to strong words
– My God, My God…
the mocking taunts
a repentant thief
a believing centurion
the veil tore
from top
to bottom


My hour has not come
My hour has not come
My hour has not come
The hour has come


blood water flow
the sun
turned into darkness
the Enemy against the cross
the Father killing His Son
the most evil act
the most wonderful loving act
the most miscarriage of justice
the greatest satisfaction of justice
He borrowed a grave
but he owned everything
even our sins

paradox.


xxiv.


The angry thorns
created an applauding blood
to drip in Your face

The nails
that made Your ankle crossed the other
and arms raised down
are my unbendable links to You

The soldier’s spear
made sure Your death becomes mine

sealed.


xxv.

In the sixth hour
the Holy One turned out the sun.
He disappeared
until the ninth hour

"My God, my God…”
He cried out−
God forsaken by God

“Tetelestai…”
Again He cried out −
God accepted Him back

The bells can no longer be heard
The Holy of Holies
exposed was to everyone

tombs will spit out
those who come by faith
like the centurion
quickened by the Spirit

rocks will split
to hide the faces
of those who refuse to believe

miracles





































Tuesday, March 31, 2015

Season of Shame Part 3

Official Challenge of Christ’s Authority
Mt. 21:23-22:40; Mk.11:27-12: 34; Lk.20:1-40

 
The chief priests, scribes and elders
questioned His authority
the Herodians came and
questioned him about the tribute money
the Sadducees tried him upon
the subject of the resurrection
a lawyer asked him which
was the greatest commandment

 unfriendly eyes
examined Him from head to foot−
spotless, beautiful.
unblemished.

Sunday, March 29, 2015

Season of Shame Part 1

Triumphal entry
Zech 9:9, Daniel 9:24–26


two great tides of people
formed a wall
like Red Sea 
parted by The Almighty 

Hosanna! Hosanna!

the stones 
are ready to praise
the palms 
bow in worship
the followers
carpeted the street
the Pharisees 
are greatly offended
the disciples 
failed to grasp
its meaning
His grief
was very great

for a while at least,
the crowd is upon
His side

king.

Thursday, September 18, 2014

"Making Love" at 3AM

Here's a poem that I created while reading John R.W Stott's The Message of Romans at 3 o'clock in the morning (and can't fall back asleep which I consistently do in the past couple of years, low blood sugar perhaps).


Chemistry (or Mystery) of Love

Your divine body
my frail body
as we lie side by
side in antinomy

i hugged my arms
You held me close
Your embrace
didn't crush my bones

Your very heart was dissolved
that i trembled and was forced
to adore, kneel and praise
Your glorious grace

Yet the mystery
remains


Note: lie side by side is not from EE Cummings but from Stott (p.251)

Friday, July 4, 2014

an erasure poem I’ve created for THE FOUND POETRY REVIEWfrom chapter 9 of The Picture of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde


Still


you, the visible incarnation 
an exquisite dream 
away, you were still present 

You would not have understood it 
I hardly understood it myself 

the Realism 
is always more abstract 

The colour
The peril 

this strange confession
strange idolatry

Monday, October 14, 2013

All of Grace

I will have mercy on whom I will have mercy. I will have compassion on whom I will have compassion. Romans 9:15



The greatest preface ever written
—a Divine act as Creation, or Providence, or Resurrection
—a garment without seam, woven from the top throughout

When it comes unto us, is like
a firebrand dropped into the sea where
it would certainly be quenched were
it not of such a miraculous quality that
it baffles the water and sets up
its reign of fire and light even in the depths!

This live coal from off the altar can
only be gripped by the hands of faith.

—it kills and makes alive!

“Not as the world gives, give I unto you,”


—Adapted from a sermon All of Grace delivered by C. H. Spurgeon at the Metropolitan Tabernacle , Newington


Monday, April 1, 2013

Elements of the Cross


Who is a God like unto Thee, who pardoneth iniquity,
and passeth by the transgression...(Micah7:18a)

Thousands of rams and
Ten thousand rivers of oil for
Four thousand years

Then came the Scandalous Night...

Only the Body and Blood Satisfied
 -Angels & Demons kneeled
-Justice and Mercy kissed
In God’s Majestic Glory!

Monday, February 25, 2013

Genesis Three

illustrated by Hana, my 4-year old daughter
It's quite encouraging that
after the Fall
and before He sent them away,
'God made tunics of skin and clothed'
Adam and Eve.
No more running
No more hiding
A shadow of the Future
An act of merciful grace

Note: last line is from the Mac Arthur Study Bible

Sunday, August 5, 2012

Hollywood Hindus

from a  June 2007 issue of Time Magazine 














As accurate as his videotape, David Lynch
believes in the Maharishi unified field.
His over-sized head assured him that
someday he would understand this.

How can his mind travel, create a film
if there is no time?
How can he be extremely optimistic
if everything is illusion?
And why would he imitate Bunuel
and bring a cow in the set?

I hope the cow will kick him in the face
and send him to Dumbland.
Let's demand from his cameraman
to film it in a strikingly high-contrast
black and white.

Tuesday, July 24, 2012

Book Addict

But 90 percent of us who buy books still get out of the house and go to the bookstore, to be among the books, yes, but also to be among the other book buyers, the like-minded, even if we might never say a word to them.
LEWIS BUZBEE, The Yellow-Lighted Bookshop


Hanging out in a bookshop for hours,
I’ve discovered that every Tom, Dick, and Harry loves Jane Austen.
Her name rhymes with the smiling Joel Osteen
like those of Kafka, Kundera, and Klima, etc., etc.
Every prose writer according to the blurb is the best of his generation
and they all look cool on the back flop while poets are not.
Pamuk is the exact double of Rumi and Nabokov was also a poet.
Dave Barry is difficult to find (A Good Man Is Hard to Find).
I don’t understand why Billy Collins is on sale at 98% discount(no kidding)
and how in the world The God of Small Things a winner of the Booker Prize.
Where is the cool title 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea?
Jason Boyett is not a professional theologian but his theological
grasp makes mine sound like a third grade Sunday School.
I thought that Joyce Carol Oates is the same author as James Carroll.
Pancho Villa is more popular than Jose Garcia Villa
(“Don’t compare Pascal’s Pensées to mine — his are flat, boring…”)
Not all black, green and orange are Penguin Classics but
red, white and blue are always the main characters of Marvel and DC.
The Oprah Book Club logo is ugly on the cover.
Cool names are not hyphenated: A.S. Byatt, A.E. Housman
C.S. Lewis, C.P. Cavafy, C.K. Williams, C.H. Sisson and where is C.H. Spurgeon?
Talking About Detective Fiction, I’ve also discovered that
P.D. James is not a boy but a girl.
Books are slow just like me.

Sunday, July 1, 2012

A Literary Note

In classical art, novelty meant some sort of
variation of the model; in Baroque art, an
exaggeration; in modern art, a sharp break.
      Octavio Paz, Alternating Current

It takes a very random person
to make a revolution:
Dickinson’s breathless pauses
and dashes (soundless as dot?)
Villa’s comma’ed version
Cummings’ eccentric punctuation
Ezra pounded the syntax
Lyric narrative, reverse consonance,
etc., etc., etc.  

One big shot said that the three dots
in the middle of a sentence is notorious
and widely used in sleazy sex novels.  

And who decides these things anyway?  
If you are a Sunday writer and
you want to ghastly use these dots
(and still be… famous) then ask
police permission
not from Dave Barry.

Sunday, June 10, 2012

One Sunday Afternoon in a Church Parking Lot

The sermon booms from the PA like
A broadcast out of the dashboard.
(I will never again escape).
The shortest sermon I’ve ever heard
on the most misunderstood subject.
The minister neither denounced it like
Sade nor affirmed it like Augustine.
No. Not Cernuda. Not Neruda. Poets
filled the world watched by every human
love (Learn to love Elijah). He simply
jumbled the words. Its contrapuntal climax,
filled with amplified modulation.
That’s the message  – the only message for me.

Saturday, May 5, 2012

Train Poem No. 3

Today I encountered again a young
preacher. I do not know what he
looks like but I’m sure he is
well dressed.(As God had clothed his
own ambassador). He didn’t used the railroad
to create a metaphor. But he preaches
as if the next stop is hell.

Friday, April 27, 2012

Thirty-Seven

Suddenly I am now 37
being 37 feels like I'm 36
but I said the same at 36

It is like the Theory of Relativity
-when you reach the infinite number
you will realize that
you have fooled even yourself

No, you don't have to divide
80 or 90 by two.

Wednesday, March 21, 2012

A Minor Poet



 Triggered by something that happened to me, I wrote my first poem completely unplanned without wrestling with language (while waiting for my shuttle). It was published in POET'S PICTUREBOOK, issue No. 35. I was not even sure if it resembles a graceful poem but the great Filipino poet and translator, Marne Kilates, accommodated me. It was called “Graceland”. Short as it is but the lines are all falling right. Reading it still enthralls me to this day. Here is the poem:

GRACELAND

On, on I travel to distant Oku
The moon is low in the sky
As I tread on muddy roads in November
I ignored God’s signposts all over 
I got lost and saw a mountain Lion track
Then I encountered an elephant lurking in darkness
I wrestled with it and made my blood run so cold
A dead man walking; a shaken monster in me
Swallowed up in a driftwood whilst limping away,
I heard the weeping fish
My sleeve is with tears
How lonely it is!
 You made me recall a poet’s line
And the fool dwarfs in The Last Battle
You broke a vase for me
Filled with a sunflower seed!
You heard my lament
And turn them into dancing

Sunday, March 18, 2012

A Lament

I am like a pelican of the wilderness;
I am like an owl of the desert.

But You are the same,…
                             PSALM 102

I've tasted the bread of angels
and no clothes to tear

I am not worthy to stoop down

Even if I carry Your cross
as far as the Desert of Kadesh
for forty days and forty nights
- pelicans will not go with me
They will not eat my carcass 
and the beasts of the earth 
will be frightened

Blessed are the desert owls
for they see through the darkness

You have cut down 
the cedars of Lebanon
and the mighty oaks of Bashan

give me their language 

Until my wine is mingled with tears
And my bread is filled with ashes

Tuesday, February 28, 2012

On Being Human

While we were made a little lower than the angels and we are like the beasts that perish, there are things that are, as C.S. Lewis puts it, “forever ours, not theirs”. There may be back stories (a "holy conference") that angels only know but what about the story of grace? - Only tasted by the forgiven and redeemed!



On Being Human
C.S. Lewis,  Poems


Angelic minds, they say, by simple intelligence
Behold the Forms of nature. They discern
Unerringly the Archtypes, all the verities
Which mortals lack or indirectly learn.
Transparent in primordial truth, unvarying,
Pure Earthness and right Stonehood from their clear,
High eminence are seen; unveiled, the seminal
Huge Principles appear.

The Tree-ness of the tree they know-the meaning of
Arboreal life, how from earth's salty lap
The solar beam uplifts it; all the holiness
Enacted by leaves' fall and rising sap;

But never an angel knows the knife-edged severance
Of sun from shadow where the trees begin,
The blessed cool at every pore caressing us
-An angel has no skin.

They see the Form of Air; but mortals breathing it
Drink the whole summer down into the breast.
The lavish pinks, the field new-mown, the ravishing
Sea-smells, the wood-fire smoke that whispers Rest.
The tremor on the rippled pool of memory
That from each smell in widening circles goes,
The pleasure and the pang --can angels measure it?
An angel has no nose.

The nourishing of life, and how it flourishes
On death, and why, they utterly know; but not
The hill-born, earthy spring, the dark cold bilberries.
The ripe peach from the southern wall still hot
Full-bellied tankards foamy-topped, the delicate
Half-lyric lamb, a new loaf's billowy curves,
Nor porridge, nor the tingling taste of oranges.
—An angel has no nerves.

Far richer they! I know the senses' witchery
Guards us like air, from heavens too big to see;
Imminent death to man that barb'd sublimity
And dazzling edge of beauty unsheathed would be.
Yet here, within this tiny, charmed interior,
This parlour of the brain, their Maker shares
With living men some secrets in a privacy
Forever ours, not theirs. 

Sunday, January 15, 2012

A Scene From a Korean Movie


Korean films are always unique. Sometimes it has 3 endings, sometimes it's like you have only watch a single chapter. Their cinematography techniques will make you experience the movie -  we watch and suffer like they do and the score will make you seat until the credits end.














She knew she was standing
in the middle of the road
Confuse and teary
She finally decided to run uphill
She run hard while crying out loud
and collapsed
She sunk herself for a long time in that highway,
clenching her fists while the rustling wind
swept the fallen leaves.
For minutes I thought that it would not affect me,
but it did.