Poetry Archives | Page 4 of 7

Poetry

Poetry: Here we are

Here we are Caught holding the baby Wanting to leave Christmas “up” all year Reveling in the twinkling lights and joyful songs Keeping Jesus as

Carmen Shelly | For Anabaptist World

January 25, 2024

The Light Comes (a poem for Christmastide)

In this markedly darkening season of year, At the dark-boding end of a dark-begun year, As did John in the dark of that long-ago year,

Darrin W. Snyder Belousek | For Anabaptist World

January 11, 2024

Poetry: From an ancient collector of Proverbs, re-dug

FROM AN ANCIENT COLLECTOR OF PROVERBS, RE-DUG And, regarding Exodus 28:30 Knowing themselves to be seen as black mastodons

Sylvia Gross Bubalo

December 28, 2023

Poetry: Ponder, as Mary

Isaiah prophesies in zealous strokes of light and pitch. The psalmist, in fevered praise, declaims the gods of nations

Britt Kaufmann

December 25, 2023

Poetry: Deity Contained

And God scrunched into wee flesh and hunkered down in a lackluster neighborhood, yielded to swaddling clothes, taxes, and humility. Ocean became a droplet

Joy Versluis

December 14, 2023

Poetry: An almost perfect blessing

For every clouded sunrise Each hang-nailed rainbow The smeared-ink greeting or mangled embrace For the rimmed-out putts The off-centered bullseyes Like near-ripened avocados That are

J.E. Misz

November 30, 2023

Poetry: God was grieved

God Was Grieved St. Peter was quite sad and tired. The workload had been tremendous over the past week and now he needed some time

Lonnie Buerge

November 16, 2023

Poetry: Shem, Ham and Japheth muse about their wives

Talk about tough to get dates, with all the neighbors shaking their heads at mad dad hammering away on the gopher wood night and day.

Joseph Gascho

November 9, 2023

Poetry: On the second Easter in quarantine, I consider my watered-down faith

I need to believe Magdalene today when she comes to my yard, waving both arms, me not fully awake and longing for ritual other than

Becca J.R. Lachman

October 26, 2023

Poetry: Led to the wilderness

I walked out of the sanctuary saying, “I’m done.” “I’m done.” The Spirit of the Lord had left the building. She would have nothing to

Lee Kosa

October 12, 2023

Poetry: Baptismal

Baptismal Baptize me, and let it stick this time Lead me to the chapel Past the pews of stone On the robed oriole’s call to

Thomas Ruth

September 28, 2023

A blessing for simplicity

When you hear the whispers of the still, small voice in the margins and gaps, may you slow, still and encounter God.

Sherah-Leigh Gerber | For Anabaptist World

September 19, 2023

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