My husband's poetry

Category: spiritual

  • pilgrimage haiku

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    by

    cfblack
    in ,

    in holy precincts pour out your bushel measure await the threshing 6-7-22

  • The welcoming

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    by

    cfblack
    in

    Golden apple juice sweet in the light One cookie sweet on your tongue Standing on the portico looking out The view is long and steep Memories of God’s mountain Gift to carry home 6-7-22

  • Holy Day haiku

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    by

    cfblack
    in , ,

    vapor drops obscure clouding the sun at midday but still light gets through 5-29-22

  • Warm coffee

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    by

    cfblack
    in ,

    An epigraph and poem suitable for Ridvan, “O Children of Dust! Tell the rich of the midnight sighing of the poor, lest heedlessness lead them into the path of destruction, and deprive them of the Tree of Wealth…” (Baha’u’llah) Yesterday, at a downtown café you sat outside with a friend, drank warm coffee, complained about…

  • morning haiku

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    by

    cfblack
    in , ,

    reading Thich Nhat Hanh plum blossoms broken open scattered on wet ground 4-19-22

  • The last fast

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    by

    cfblack
    in ,

    Days of malaise days of no energy days of frequent naps days waiting for the sun to set Maybe it’s the aging out of an obligation to fast maybe it is feeling old maybe it is being old maybe it is coming out of two years of pandemic isolation maybe it is all of these…

  • Benevolence

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    by

    cfblack
    in , , ,

    You gave at home, in church, on the playground, at team practice and in fights after school. You gave in the backseat, at the office, the drunken party and for a worthy cause. You stole kisses, hearts and candy. You stole time, again and again and again. You threw it away. You disbelieved. You tried…

  • Insomnia #67

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    by

    cfblack
    in , ,

    You wake from a dream unable to sleep Tell yourself that after you die You don’t want to stumble in the dark or get lost between worlds So you will leave a light on at the earth end of the tunnel And then you realize Mom and Dad will be upset You left the light…

  • Who

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    by

    cfblack
    in , ,

    Why is north up and south down, heaven up and hell down? Who said we can’t change our orientation or that ancient myths are sacrosanct? Would we behave differently, if north was left and hell right? 1-28-22

  • Tread lightly on the ground

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    by

    cfblack
    in , ,

    People of the dust Walking clay Beneath your feet Your forbears mingle there Holding you up Breathing history into pores of clay feet 1-13-22 Last Friday, I wrote and read this poem at the Park Circle Gallery in North Charleston for the opening exhibition of work by Artist, Pascale Bilgis, called, ‘Little Flat People.’ The…