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I'm starting with today's poem, because it is far more meaningful.
Since today is Good Friday, I read Jesus' trail and crucifixion according to Matthew.
I was particularly struck by Matthew 27:24-29. When Pilate washes his hands of the affair, the people cry, "His blood shall be on us and on our children!"
What irony there is in this cry, for Christ came to shed his blood for the sins of the world. This poem, although I'm not entirely satisfied with it, is what came from these ponderings.
Victory Song
All hail him, spit and hit him, King of Jews
‘His blood on us, on us and on our kin!’
is all our cry; his blood is all we choose.
He begs, pathetic fool, that God forgive.
We crucify, and in his death we win!
The work complete; the traitor crushed, we live
- - -
All hail Him raised! And praise Him, King of Jews
‘His blood for us, for stony hearts of sin!’
is all our cry; His blood is all we choose.
The blessed Lord we murdered did forgive.
Christ crucified, and in His death the win!
The work complete; the traitor crushed, we live
I wrote a poem yesterday, but didn't have time to post.
I was feeling rather uninspired, so I decided to really have fun playing with the unique sounds and rhythms of words, and see where it took me.
I consider it a good warm-up for the rest of the month. You can decide if it's entirely nonsense. ;)
PRACTICAL REASONING
Misplaced:
a chunk of charismatic chipper
It skittered
like a twisting-flapper-vaulting-flipper
to the gutter
and a solemn Athenatic kick
helped hasten
its descent
Oh la!
A could-have-been of coexistence
down the drain.
The frowning of
the owlish, olive-eating preacher
all of marble
with a brilliant machinatic tick
cannot endure
the presence of
the chipper chasing creature
Have a blessed Good Friday, everyone. Thanks be to God for His incomprehensible gift!