Dementia for 2

I love poetry. I really like old poetry books old prayer books, things like that.

I own a few not near as many as I would like. But I have been fortunate enough to acquire 2 first editions of poems and prayers at a very reasonable price through my virtual WalMart (EBay).

I have been thinking about my own shortcomings and how I have allowed my life to come between God and me. This is a vicious circle that I am constantly dealing with. It is like the more I turn to God, the more obstacles I incur. While I know I am not alone in this, I still feel alone.

In one of A.W. Tozer's books, I can't remember which one, he recommends "The Oxford Book of English Mystical Verse". This is not a book of dark or magical poems. These are mainly inspirational poems that date back as far as the 1200's. This book is still in print but some poems have been added or deleted over time. I was able to acquire a first edition for 20.00. What a steal!

The other book I have is a Jewish Prayer Book from the 20's. This book lists prayers for a multitude of events in both Hebrew and English.

When I am in my "pity party" mood, I often turn not only to God's Word to read some of my favorite verses, but I also turn to these books to read prayers of others who have experienced some of the same trials as I.

Today I want to share a poem by Henry Vaughn (1611-1695). Keep in mind that the English language has changed dramatically since this poem was written. I hope that you will be inspired to look within yourself and be encouraged by the fact that even in the 1600's there was a man dealing with this same issue.

The Dwelling Place

What happy, secret fountain,
Fair shade, or mountain,
Whose undiscover'd virgin glory
Boasts it this day, though not in story,
Was then thy dwelling? did some cloud
Fix'd to a Tent descend and shrowd
My distrest Lord? or did a star,
Beckon'd by thee, though high and far,
In sparkling smiles haste gladly down
To lodge light, and increase her own?
My dear, dear God! I do not know
What lodged thee then, nor where, nor how;
But I am sure, thou does now come
Oft to a narrow, homely room,
Where thou too hast but the least part,
My God I mean my sinful heart.

I love to read poetry. I like to hear poetry in music. I don't like the childish rhymes of childhood. I like the complex stop and think poetry. I like to read Puritan prayers because of the poetry I see in them. One of my favorite blues singers is Billy Holiday. Favorite song? Strange Fruit without a doubt. A haunting, melancholy, truth makes me sick song. If you have never heard it I encourage you to do so.

If you go to the poetry foundation you can find some really interesting poetry to read. I wanted to share two of the ones i found that i really liked. they are both by Yusef Komunyakaa. I hope they give you some food for thought today.

Reflections

In the day's mirror
you see a tall black man.
Fingers of gold cattail
tremble,then you witness
the rope dangling
from a limb of white oak.
It's come to this.
You yell his direction,
the wind taking
your voice away.
You holler his mama's name,
& he glances up at the red sky.
You can almost
touch what he's thinking,
reaching for his hand
across the river.
The noose pendulous
over his head,
you can feel him
grow inside you,
straining to hoist himself,
climbing a ladder
of air, your feet
in his shoes.

We Never Know

He danced with tall grass
for a moment, like he was swaying
with a woman. Our gun barrels
glowed white-hot.
When I got to him,
a blue halo of flies had already claimed him.
I pulled the crumbled photograph
from his fingers.
There's no other way
to say this: I fell in love.
The morning cleared again,
except for a distant mortar
& somewhere choppers taking off.
I slid the wallet into his pocket
& turned him over, so he wouldn't be
kissing the ground.

I know these are not light hearted poems but i still like them. I do like some happy poems. I'm not totally morbid. lol Anyway, if you want to check this guy and others you can do so here.