Jan/Feb 1998

(Two poems written at age 18)

PREGNANT MADONNA

Holy Mother of God, mother to be

I wonder if—

if the second coming of Christ is near?

In the kitchen

it's cold standing on the hard wood floor before

a sketch of Mary

with a crowned fetus cradled in her arms

help us Jesus

In the news they don't talk about it anymore

the greed to choose

My Dad's sketch clear and fragile as thin ice

drawn in pencil

on scraps of time uneaten by a cookie

factory that

in it's inconstant infernal mercy

allows us to live

—sad manifestation of the proud world

perhaps it's happened

that the Savior at rest in a womb

has been murdered?

(Jan. 28, 1998)

This poem submitted to a poetry anthology "Rhymes of Greatness," you know the kind where they jury-in just about everybody in the hopes that the enthused aspiring poet will purchase the book so the group can recoup funds/make a profit... background in interpreting this somewhat uncharacteristic write for the time (being quite personal and in poem form): My mother's name is Mary; my sister was expecting an unexpected baby, my father was an Artist though he did not "earn-a-living" by it and was in physical pain from factory-work related injuries...

Below another poem, needing no explanation really, except to note that it was submitted to a similar anthology published by the Poetry Guild; it has some awkward grammar that I had insisted upon at the time... in both poems I have faithfully transcribed the exact texts, despite being tempted to tweak here and there...

(Feb. 12, 1998)

SEA

Ah! steady and powerful force of sea

How kindly it flows over its own;

Protecting its inhabitants gently

And this ocean, itself vast, is sewn

Of, to, many immense forms— so peacefully

That only littleness could dare dethrone!

Ne'er vicious, it follows Law gracefully.

This sea thus could, with thought and skill, be our...

That we might seize what is in our power—

Not worthless trinkets of so soil'd money—

But now rolling up our sleeves happily,

And bringing forth our dust rags, though late hour

Begin to fill our responsibility

To, with all creation, live easily

#FoundPoetryPieces #Challenge

I am 21 years or older.