Doesn’t Feel Like Christmas
By Linda M. Crate Word Count: 115 Rating: G Summary: A poem of a Christmas with no snow. it doesn't feel festive nor right that Christmas is coming and there is no psalm of white…
Category: Original Poetry
The World Held in Your Hands
THE WORLD HELD IN YOUR HANDS By Lawrence Hall Word count: 93 Rating: G Summary: A poetic description of the Rosary. A little bead between your fingers slips And then another, and another yet Linked…
Christmas Presence
~ by Patrick W. Kavanagh At Christmas time it's sad to be away from so many of the people that I love. No matter where I am, I will be far from those whom I…
Last Sunday After Pentecost
By Lawrence Hall Word Count: 124 Rating: G Summary: A poem of the triumph of the season of Advent over winter. A calling-crow-cold sky ceilings the world Lowering the horizon to itself, All silvery and…
Why Do We Write?
“Beauty will save the world.”* -Dostoyevsky If we accept that art helps us reveal The hidden structures of the universe As beauty transcendent in color and form Harmonious truth in music, word, and dance Then…
False Spring
By Lawrence Hall Word Count: Rating: G Summary: A poem about the "January thaw." No spring is false when warm, sweet sunlight falls Upon the weathered field and woods and walls And frogs shake off…
A New Dawn of Freedom
A NEW DAWN OF FREEDOM By Lawrence Hall Word count: 83 Rating: G Summary: The poet dedicates the New Year to Christian virtues, rather than the old Pagan ones. A new dawn of freedom? May…
Epiphany, Transferred
By Lawrence Hall Word Count: 87 Rating: G Summary: A poem digesting what Epiphany would be like today. How, then, does one transfer a holy day? The Magi reschedule their appointments, The camels are re-booked…
Star of the Imperial Feminine
Five, the birth-star rays of the Magi’s infant king; Of the light of our infinite gaze … Five, the dimensions of Light through Mary; Of hope, faith, love, life, and grace … Five, the wounds…
A Mild Cold Front
By Lawrence Hall Word Count: 92 Rating: G Summary: The poet muses on the weather. An errant frog’s the only voice to sing The day to sleep in this warm, blustery dusk. The whippoorwill of…