“Bethlehem’s Hours’ Mourn”
Bethlehem’s hour’s mourned, furtive glances northward toward Nazareth;
Veiled her expectations as soon enough her promised Son survives.
She knows that somewhere in between this king contrives
Within himself to build a wall. He practices precision; he does not guess.
He knows exactly what he wants, and from the East come
Three who only recently made queries round the campfires
‘Neath the skies beyond the Jordan. Casually they’ve inquired,
“What are these walls, and what the genesis of guns
And orchards plaited all along the shepherds’ run? Whose images are these,
And what is it they disguise, the vulgate for the people?”
Yes, they come, these three, adrift once again stalled between the steeples,
Barred, forbidden. Then again, their passage isn’t what it used to be.
They ask in vain and find the answers come as no surprise.
The king’s awake tonight; he’ll not fool the wise this time.
Posted in Bethlehem, Caesar, Christmas, Christmas Season, Civilisation, Double Sonnet, End Times, Herod, Holy Land, Hubris, Imagery, Imagination, Imagism, Lyric Poetry, Magi, Materialism, Nazareth, Night, Poem, Poetry, Ptolemy, Pyrrhic Victory, Samsara, Sonnet, Sonnets, Walls, Wise men
Tagged Bethlehem, Christmas, Christmas Season, Double Sonnet, End Times, Herod, Imagism, Lyric Poetry, Nazareth, Pain, Poem, poetry, Ptolemy, Samsara, Sonnet, Sonnets, Wise men
“Solace in Believing”
Solace in believing, rectitude in serving—
The balance in the cleavage there between collectives
And the single path—and in the brief electives
Shared by all a joy in moments of selective yearning,
Benchmarks of the solar year, at Thanksgiving and Christmastime,
Restraint and a slight refrain from something heard within the people.
Still the Philistines abound, their doorways pocked with pumpkins, evil
Omens spelling out the news that feasting, repetitious cognates that rhyme
With what it is is what the people want but cannot earn. And why, one asks,
Do the nations so furiously rage together, age-old riddles, questions
Put to test, the yeasts of what it is that hearts desire? Sage suggestions
In the council chambers, gatherings to mark traumatic tasks
Of timely need and potent joint considerations of the able:
All we ask is peace, and simple magnanimity at the table?
…photograph below of Dutch memorial to Holocause victims from Holland…
Posted in Lyric Poetry, Poetry, Samsara, Sonnet
Tagged Christmas, End Times, Existence, Lyric Poetry, peace, rectitude, Samsara, Security Council, Solace, Strife, Thanksgiving, United Nations, Wisdom