Tag Archives: poetry

Nobody Wants Jesus

I wrote this at Easter time a couple of years ago.  I still like some of it, but I now wish to rewrite it.

Nobody wants Jesus

Nobody wants Jesus to come.

Oh, we all say we do.

But we mean the Jesus

who looks like us,

who talks like us,

who carries our very own prejudices

in his heart.


We don’t want the Jesus

Who, like His brother Thomas,

plunges His finger

into gaping wounds,

the ones in our sides.

That Jesus

asks too much.


We don’t want the Jesus

Who has looked

into the eyes

of the wild God,

The Holy Mystery,

Who screams,” Love!”

from every rooftop.


We don’t want the Jesus

Who didn’t care for empty piety,

Who desired more than sacrifice,

Who commanded mercy,

Who prayed for enemies,

Who loved the outcast–

The Beloved, enfleshed.


With followers

like us,

it’s a wonder

He ever had to flee to the desert

for solitude.



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Musings on Hope

Hope seems to be the theme of my reading today.  The poem for the day from Shambhala was “Hope” by Emily Dickinson.  Here is the text.


Hope is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul,
And sings the tune without the words,
And never stops at all,
And sweetest in the gale is heard;
And sore must be the storm
That could abash the little bird
That kept so many warm.
I’ve heard it in the chillest land,
And on the strangest sea;
Yet, never, in extremity,
It asked a crumb of me.

Just before reading that poem, however, I read Thich Nhat Hanh‘s discussion of hope as an obstacle in his book Peace is Every Step.
Western civilization places so much emphasis on the idea of hope that we sacrifice the present moment.  Hope is for the future.  It cannot help us discover joy, peace, or enlightenment in the present moment. … I do not mean that you should not have hope, but that hope is not enough.  Hope can create an obstacle for you, and if you dwell in the energy of hope, you will not bring yourself back entirely into the present moment.
I don’t think I have a point by any of this other than to say that I think the juxtaposition of these two pieces was particularly thought provoking to me today.  I think that hope may be one of those paradoxes of life that are, to some degree, unsolvable by the intellect and must just be “sat with.”

Dandelion sun
By avmaier from USA (Flickr) [CC BY 2.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0)%5D, via Wikimedia Commons.

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Filed under Art of Living, Poetry, Spirit

Poem…or admonition?

Just to keep the poetry month theme going, here’s a fridge magnet poem that is really only a general admonition to myself.


It does remind me of the Green Man archetype, an image to which I have long felt a connection.  Matthew Fox says that the Green Man reminds us to be “wet and juicy” and fully alive.  All living things are full of blood or sap or liquid of some kind.

The phrase “take and eat” also calls to mind the language of the Eucharist, an invitation to share in a meal of Christ’s body and blood.  It’s also an invitation to a remembering (or, as Cynthia Bourgeault has said, “re – membering”) of Jesus.  That ritual is intended to reconstitute the body of Christ in some way (depending on which denomination you fall into).  I don’t want to get into that here, since I’m not a theologian, and this is hardly the point to this post.  I don’t know if there is a point to this post.

Anyway, for your viewing pleasure, here is an image of the Ludlow Green Man in Shropshire, England.  I’m sure you’ll agree he’s a handsome fellow.



Note – edited to add links.

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Filed under Ecology, Poetry, Spirit

Another poem for Poetry Month

Here’s another of my mini fridge magnet poems, again in honor of Poetry Month.fridge_magnet_poem_2

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Poetry Month

Since April is poetry month, Shambhala Press is sending out a poem a day from books they have published. Poets will include Rumi, Chogyam Trungpa, Jane Kenyon, Emily Dickinson and more. You can sign up to get them in your inbox here: http://www.shambhala.com/poetry-month.  You know you want to.

In anticipation of poetry month, here is one of my mini fridge magnet poems that I make on my filing cabinet in my office.  It’s not Shakespeare, but I’ve seen worse, I suppose.


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Filed under Art of Living, Poetry, Writing

Found Poem #1

I sometimes like to dabble in found poetry.  If you are unfamiliar with this particular form of poetry, this is a good definition from Poets.org:

“Found poems take existing texts and refashion them, reorder them, and present them as poems. The literary equivalent of a collage, found poetry is often made from newspaper articles, street signs, graffiti, speeches, letters, or even other poems.”
I will post these experiments whether good or bad (probably mostly bad) here on this blog.  Without further ado, here is my first one on Uncertain Pilgrim.
The inevitability of Progress
        prepared us
to be frightened,
     to smell violence and
the bodies of dead animals and
            human pleasure
oblivious to the savageries
          of history.
-from Sketches from Life: the Autobiography of Lewis Mumford, p. 250

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Filed under Poetry, Writing