CLXXXXVIII
Wordsworth wrote an endless poem in blank verse on” the growth of a poet’s mind.” I shall attempt a more modest feat for a more distracted age: a blog, “Things which a Lifetime of Trying to Be a Poet has Taught Me.”
The biggest group of Jesus’ twelve disciples were professional fishermen before they signed up to follow Him. Professional fishermen. They knew the way storms and waves behaved on the Sea of Galilee. They knew whether or not the fish were biting. (OK, technically that’s not the right phrase because they were using nets—but you get the idea.) They knew the Man they were dealing with was not just another lay rabbi. That is one reason why we can still trust their testimony today.
THE PROFESSIONALS
(Commentary, Luke 5:5)
“We’ve toiled all night and caught no fish as yet;
Our eyes are drooping and our muscles ache.
But at your bidding, we’ll let down the net.”
(Though, just ‘twixt you and me, I doubt we’ll get
A single tug at this end of the lake.
We’ve toiled all night and caught no fish as yet.)
“A better preacher we have never met,
But teaching us to fish? That takes the cake!
Still, at your bidding we’ll let down the net.”
(I don’t know why we’re doing this. I’ll bet
He’s never fought this hard to stay awake.
We’ve toiled all night and caught no fish as yet.)
And yet, somehow I don’t think we’ll regret
Obeying him, though seaweed’s all we’ll take.
So, “At your bidding we’ll let down the net.”
Then, without warning, every line was set
So taut we were afraid the line would break:
We’d toiled all night and caught no fish as yet,
But, at his bidding, we let down the net.
Remember: for more poetry like this, go to https://lanternhollow.wordpress.com/store/ and order Stars Through the Clouds! Also look for Inklings of Reality and Reflections from Plato’s Cave, Williams’ newest books from Lantern Hollow Press: Evangelical essays in pursuit of Truth, Goodness, and Beauty. And look for Williams’ very latest book, Deeper Magic: The Theology behind the Writings of C. S. Lewis, from Square Halo Books!
Donald T. Williams, PhD
CLXXXXVII
Wordsworth wrote an endless poem in blank verse on” the growth of a poet’s mind.” I shall attempt a more modest feat for a more distracted age: a blog, “Things which a Lifetime of Trying to Be a Poet has Taught Me.”
We talk about the aching beauty of Nature. Sometimes, it’s not a metaphor.
LAMENT
The mole was dead upon the ground;
He did not move when he was poked.
His coat was sleek, his body round,
His life revoked.
His parts seemed not to coincide:
His hands were stuck on at the wrist;
He was long-nosed and squinty-eyed,
A humorist.
He looked too healthy to be dead;
His feet were white, his face was droll,
But he was tragic dust instead
Of comic mole.
Remember: for more poetry like this, go to https://lanternhollow.wordpress.com/store/ and order Stars Through the Clouds! Also look for Inklings of Reality and Reflections from Plato’s Cave, Williams’ newest books from Lantern Hollow Press: Evangelical essays in pursuit of Truth, Goodness, and Beauty. And look for Williams’ very latest book, Deeper Magic: The Theology behind the Writings of C. S. Lewis, from Square Halo Books!
Donald T. Williams, PhD
CLXXXXVI
Wordsworth wrote an endless poem in blank verse on” the growth of a poet’s mind.” I shall attempt a more modest feat for a more distracted age: a blog, “Things which a Lifetime of Trying to Be a Poet has Taught Me.”
What was it like to be in the Upper Room waiting for the day of Pentecost?
PENTECOST
For many days the little band had stayed
Together, meeting daily in the room
While time grew heavy with a sense of doom,
And every moment that it was delayed
Seemed an eternity–but they obeyed.
To waver would be rudely to presume;
It seems they’d learned their lessons at the tomb,
So patiently they waited and they prayed.
That morning seemed no different, much the same . . . .
Then unexpectedly there came a sound,
A hurricane of wing beats, tongues of flame
Which blew them out into the streets around
Articulating praises to the Name,
When, swifter than a hawk, the Dove came down.
Remember: for more poetry like this, go to https://lanternhollow.wordpress.com/store/ and order Stars Through the Clouds! Also look for Inklings of Reality and Reflections from Plato’s Cave, Williams’ newest books from Lantern Hollow Press: Evangelical essays in pursuit of Truth, Goodness, and Beauty. And look for Williams’ very latest book, Deeper Magic: The Theology behind the Writings of C. S. Lewis, from Square Halo Books!
Donald T. Williams, PhD
CLXXXXV
Wordsworth wrote an endless poem in blank verse on” the growth of a poet’s mind.” I shall attempt a more modest feat for a more distracted age: a blog, “Things which a Lifetime of Trying to Be a Poet has Taught Me.”
Complicated stanza forms using rhymed counterpoint (rhymes coming at the ends of lines of different lengths—the very opposite of the royal couplet) are a challenge. The challenge is to make the thought flow through them without seeming unnatural or forced. The trick is to make the movement of the stanza just unexpected enough to make the smooth flow of the thought an accomplishment, but not enough to disrupt it. George Herbert was the great master of this technique. Let’s see what I can do with it:
George Herbert
THE COMMENDATION
(Rom. 5:8)
In all mankind no greater love can be
Than to lay down
One’s life for a good friend. But look around,
And you will see
A man, to save his spiteful enemy,
Lie down to die–
No other reason why.
And does God then commend His love in this?
While we were yet
Sinners, in our sins still firmly set,
With Judas’ kiss
Still warm on our lips and His cheek, the hiss
Still ringing, “Crucify!”
He willingly did die.
And so we hear the glorious decree,
“Reconciled!”
And I, who would have stood there and reviled,
Now on my knee
Search in vain for something that could be
A fit return
For grace I did not earn.
And I, who solely by His sacrifice
Now live,
Will never find a single thing to give
That would suffice
To pay back one ten-millionth of the price
He freely gave
To save me from the grave.
Ah, well, I must give all; my grateful heart
Could do no less.
Yet, in so doing, freely I confess
There is no part
To give He has not purchased from the start.
Before His throne,
I give Him but His own,
And worship Him for grace beyond my art
To think or tell:
By death and love a double debtor made,
I find all debts in Him forever paid.
He doeth all things well!
Remember: for more poetry like this, go to https://lanternhollow.wordpress.com/store/ and order Stars Through the Clouds! Also look for Inklings of Reality and Reflections from Plato’s Cave, Williams’ newest books from Lantern Hollow Press: Evangelical essays in pursuit of Truth, Goodness, and Beauty. And look for Williams’ very latest book, Deeper Magic: The Theology behind the Writings of C. S. Lewis, from Square Halo Books!
Donald T. Williams, PhD
CLXXXXIV
Wordsworth wrote an endless poem in blank verse on” the growth of a poet’s mind.” I shall attempt a more modest feat for a more distracted age: a blog, “Things which a Lifetime of Trying to Be a Poet has Taught Me.”
Ooh! Ooh! Ooh! This is a double sonnet—not just two sonnets one after the other, but two sonnets functioning as a single poem. The first line of the first is the last line of the second, and that last line of the first the first of the second. You have noticed already that I get off on structural dovetailing like that—especially when I can make it work to support the flow of the thought through the whole piece. Did I do that here? Let’s find out.
PROPOSED:
That the Modern Scientific World-View, In its Euphoria over Learning
How to do Neat Things with Matter, Has Left Something out of the Equation
There was a time when men could see the sky,
A grand cathedral vaulted and ablaze
With myriad candles lifted up on high
By nights for Vespers; in the brighter days,
The great Rose Window eastward shed its rays
For Morning Prayer, and each and every flame
Burned eloquent in litanies of praise,
In fugues and canons to extol the Name.
But now the sky, though larger, is more tame,
And modern man sees what he’s taught to see:
Vast numbers are just numbers all the same,
Though multiplied toward infinity;
And quarks and quasars cannot speak to us
Except as agitated forms of dust.
Except as agitated forms of dust,
We don’t know how to know the thing we are:
The biochemistry of love is lust
As an atomic furnace is a star,
And all that’s known is particles at war.
And yet we do know love, and yet we know
That it and lust are infinitely far
Apart. We know the stars and how they glow,
Though they know nothing of us here below.
So even while we’re slogging through the mire,
We cannot help ourselves, but as we go
We cock our heads to listen for the choir.
We know that half the truth is half a lie:
There was a time when men could see the sky.
Remember: for more poetry like this, go to https://lanternhollow.wordpress.com/store/ and order Stars Through the Clouds! Also look for Inklings of Reality and Reflections from Plato’s Cave, Williams’ newest books from Lantern Hollow Press: Evangelical essays in pursuit of Truth, Goodness, and Beauty. And look for Williams’ very latest book, Deeper Magic: The Theology behind the Writings of C. S. Lewis, from Square Halo Books!
Donald T. Williams, PhD
