Heaven Haven [*POEM*]

calm sea

Heaven Haven

I have desired to go
Where springs not fail,
To fields where flies no sharp and sided hail
And a few lilies blow.

And I have asked to be 
Where no storms come,
Where the green swell is in the havens dumb,
And out of the swing of the sea.

— Gerald Manley Hopkins, 1844-1889 (pictured) 
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7 thoughts on “Heaven Haven [*POEM*]

    1. What world is this without winter?

      No icicles, like diamonds glittering
      sparkling jewels in the landscape

      no ice skaters
      like gracious swans on the pond
      a dance to celebrate winter’s wonderland

      No snow men to welcome you when you come home
      after a day out chopping wood
      for the hearth and fireplace

      No children laughing, cavorting
      creating snow angels in their innocence

      No sled riding to make one giddy
      No horse carriage rides in blustery winds
      through evergreen forests
      white and green
      warmed by knowing
      one is going to visit Grandmother
      Hot chocolate awaitin’
      and Grandfather with his tall tales of days gone by
      to set your imagination going
      and dream dreams you never thought possible.

      Skies so blue, so pure
      a Certain Light
      that obtains not during any other time of the year.
      The light of winter season has a quality
      perfectly conducive to contemplation,
      thoughts deep and profound
      to draw you deeper into your heart and mind
      and strengthen your resolve
      to know the true nature of Life and God.

      As one gazes out upon a landscape unadorned,
      air so clean, so cold, so invigorating!
      One sees the world the way it truly is
      distilled to its very essence
      and in that, too, is a certain Beauty,
      and it certainly doesn’t behoove one
      to disdain and scorn
      the Glories of the vigors of winter.

      These only serve to strengthen and enlighten:
      the hardships that may come one’s way
      as the winds blow fierce and pierce the skin,
      there is always in the distance
      sparkling diamonds, glittering Light,
      and the crystal icicles on the trees.

      No other season has the beauty
      so unique, so pure, so clean
      so distilled down to the very essence.

      One sees truly the way the world is built
      and the underlying shape forming all things
      in winter’s Light.
      There is Art
      and the Art we see is architecture
      God’s blueprint is there plain to see
      in the bare winter landscape:
      dogs in the distance barking,
      the air so fresh and pure and invigorating
      and children making angel forms
      in the cold, in the snow.

      In winter the light touches our world a certain way
      what has been distilled down to its very essence
      glistens and shines a certain way.
      We can see God many times more clearly in winter’s beauty
      one is drawn in, perfectly conducive to contemplation
      to meditate on the nature of Life and God.

      Winter is not without its merit:
      thru the grey and dreariness
      there are days truly glistening:
      light shining and glistening and shimmering
      as if the world was made
      of the most exquisite crystal.

      1. April 7, 2016 :

        Uncle :

        I sent you a [*POEM*] yesterday and it’s not up yet. How come? If you’re having a problem with my poem, tell what the problem is, and maybe we can work it out. While it’s true the poem I sent you yesterday is not up there with any of William Shakespeare’s poetry, the poem is a lot better than most others around here. I can’t think of any good reason for you to CENSOR my [*POEM*], so perhaps you’ll explain to me why exactly you’re CENSORING it. Maybe there’s a good reason to CENSOR it, but I don’t know what that good reason can be. Please let me know what exactly is that “good” reason you have to CENSOR the poem I sent in yesterday. I’m curious as to why you CENSOR so much.

        To help you find my poem in Spam : It’s my [*POEM* ] inspired by Psalm 74.

      2. @ TROJ

        Yesterday’s spam posts were all deleted late last night Joe, so your poem is no longer there. If you still have a copy on file, repost it.

  1. Great. Don’t get to poetry. Here maybe. This reads for lie-busting and over-turning, a clarion call. Written, ‘what do they want?’ and ‘how do we stop them?’ on a sheet. Been scaling a hoax. Read this, charge up a bit. Remember what. They must hate Hopkins, Bach, Bukowski, Patchen… any words that reach lovers. Life against their death-throws. Pump it out. Please. Helps – and juxtaposes all the, think, think, think – as we do. Discipline and poetry, that’s what. Tar.

  2. 888

    I’m a wheel, I’m a wheel
    I can roll, I can feel
    And you can’t stop me turning

    Cause I’m the sun, I’m the sun
    I can move , I can run
    But you’ll never stop me burning

    Come down with fire
    Lift my spirit higher
    Someone’s screaming my name
    Come and make me holy again

    I’m the man on the silver mountain
    I’m the man on the silver mountain

    I’m the day, I’m the day
    I can show you the way
    And look, I’m right beside you

    I’m the night, I’m the night
    I’m the dark and the light
    With eyes that see inside you

    Come down with fire
    Lift my spirit higher
    Someone’s screaming my name
    Come and make me holy again

    I’m the man on the silver mountain
    I’m the man on the silver mountain

    Come down with fire
    And lift my spirit higher
    Someone’s screaming my name
    Come and make me holy again

    Well I can help you, you know I can

    I’m the man on the silver mountain
    I’m the man on the silver mountain

    Just look at me and listen
    I’m the man, I’m the man, give you my hand
    I’m the man on the silver mountain

    Lyrics stolen by : A thief in the night.

    https://i.ytimg.com/vi/JS079o6lJUQ/maxresdefault.jpg

  3. “I want to go back to my little grass shack
    In Kealakekua, Hawaii
    I want to be with all the kanes and wahines
    That I used to know long ago

    I can hear the old guitars playing
    On the beach at Honaunau
    I can hear the old Hawaiians saying
    Komo mai no kaua I ka hale welakahao…”

    And so castles made of sand, slips into the sea,
    Eventually..

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