Category: poetry

Oops

I posted this on social media this morning, and am posting it on the blog here literally just so I can say I posted a poem today. Because I’ve posted on Sundays* for 124 weeks now, and gosh darnit, I’m

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The Hunter

Several of us in The Poetry Pub are doing an annual November Poem a Day challenge. Friday’s prompt was “pet,” and since fellow poet Amelia Friedline currently owns a Scottish Terrier and my family had one when I was growing

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As Through Fire

This is somewhat of a postscript to last week’s sonnet. In Sunday School, while Facebook was starting to blow up in reaction to what I wrote, we talked about the judgment seat of Christ, and how even as believers, so

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Manly

First: Remember that poem about cheese? It’s in a chapbook! Download it here for free. Second: there’s a long, unedited theological commentary ahead. If you don’t care, skip to the last three paragraphs or so and you’ll get the relevant

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Pocket Cheese

At Hutchmoot last weekend, a bunch of us in The Poetry Pub sat around the lunch table to discuss its future. Which we did!… but we also talked about cheese. Specifically, the string cheese that was provided in our lunch

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Father Abraham Digs a Well

In honor of Hutchmoot this weekend, here’s the sonnet I contributed to that year’s scrapbook. I’m not sure what specifically inspired it—the story of Abraham, and the woman at the well in John 4, obviously, but I couldn’t tell you

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A Meditation on Hats

I’ve always been fond of hats, probably because of that classic work of children’s literature, Go Dog Go. I tried and failed to wear many hats as a youth, including a flatcap of my grandfather’s that looks terrible on me. I

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Slow Growth

Curiosity question: would anyone miss it if I stopped posting explanations completely? I go back and forth; sometimes they’re worth it, but other times they’re not. Today’s is one of the borderline ones; it stands on its own, and even

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The Little Snake

A few things about today’s poem. First, it’s back to that theme of bitterness, one of my pet sins. It was particularly bad back in November, during a very long cycle of stress. I don’t remember if this was after

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The Temptations of Mortal Flesh

Originally written January 19, 2014. #117. An incubus is hov’ring over me His voice is gentle, and his smile is coy, He whispers, softly, lying pleasantly. He feeds off daydreams, things that cannot be: Endearing ones, designed not to annoy.

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