Category Archives: poetry

Renovations

IMG_2823“Scaffolding WVBC” phone photo DS

Perhaps the playing field is being relevelled

Perhaps postmodernism brings equality

After the fall of Christendom

A First among equals will re-emerge

 

Five hundred years after Luther

A new set of theses is on the door

Let my people go is top

Bottom reads my Spirit reigns

 

My house needs renovation

Cracks are on the walls

Nicks from the vacuum on baseboards

Leaks along the patio where

Water falls

 

My heart cries from the dug-up soil

Hardness is being enfleshed

Forgiveness is on my lips

A new thing rises

In its place

Gratitude for grace.

DS

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Two Targums of Love

Celsus Library Ancient Ephesus

The photo above is from the ‘Commons’ free images of the Celsus Library 117 AD in ancient Ephesus, a gift of love to honour his late father, Tiberius Julius Celsus Polemaeanus, Roman Senator of the Province of Asia, from his son Gaius Julius Aquila.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Library_of_Celsus

Targum:

It was probably the Apostle Paul who writes the book of Ephesians in 70-80 AD as a beautiful Hebrew style poem about how God has chosen to bless his covenant people.  In Jesus, Messiah, now everyone can join that family and find that grace.

After the destruction of the temple in Jerusalem twice in 597 BC and again in 70 AD and the subsequent exile of the Israelites, rabbis had to translate the texts of the Jewish Scriptures as they read.  Few understood Hebrew then.  The rabbis also updated the text into current contemporary idioms and contexts.  These non-literal translations were called targums.

Below are my two different attempts to follow this practice using a text from Ephesians 3 on God’s love – to celebrate St. Valentine’s Day week.  The first one is my wild artist effort to be outside of the box after watching the 61stGrammy Awards, the second, a calmer version for the more studious among us.  Which do you prefer?

Targum #1

Whether God is a black woman like in “The Shack”

Or Jesus of Nazareth, the embodiment of

Old Testament wisdom literature

God is real and willing to give a course,

A whole series of courses in real practical

Wisdom, in fact the cosmic wisdom God wants us

To have is a new wave of wisdom programs

That permeate universities, corporations, hospitals

Care homes, the prison system and immigration

God not only provides a Tutor, the Spirit

But will program our software

Powered by the user’s faith

To end up with an A+ doctorate degree

In powerful world leaders and spiritual

Gurus and demons destroying type

Of Matrix surprising power

We have a personal Benefactor

A Patron who has paid for us to

Achieve success

All we have to do is register

And stick with the program

Out of love for our Handmaker

In these individualized 2.0 programs

For kindness ME to WE work

We can contact the Handmaker’s

Helpdesk 24/7

We do not work alone

A state-of-the-art studio

Awaits us each day with regular

Field trips offered and practicums

Provided for real-life hands-on

Career impressive callings

The work is messy, filled with chemicals

And hot and cold suffering, crying

Masks, gloves are provided

In metanarrative wisdom

The Handmaker gives us free reign

To create landscapes and portraits

Sculptures and installations

That show Whose love-rooted and

Love-conquering

Program we are in

In fact, in the Wisdom art school

We find ourselves, by faith beloved

Becoming

The painting, the Hand-pulled

Original print

The sculptures ourselves

The handmade Spirit-living art

Donated to gallery visitors

Installed in the Grand Grammy Awards

Art Show.

 

Targum #2

  1. God did this as part of his forever plan. Thank you to Jesus for this in all he did on the Cross.
  2. As a result, Jesus allows us the chutzpah to come closer to God trusting.
  3. Please do not be down when you see me having a hard time on your behalf. Others will see and give you perks.
  4. I fold my body before Abba.
  5. The One whose vast array of creatures owe him life.
  6. God is awesome and magnificent. I offer you to God for powerful modelling.
  7. And so Christ will hang out with you and in you trust. Stay there grounded in deep affection and don’t run off.
  8. I lay you and all Jesus mentees in his imagination to see the great dimensions of this affection.
  9. This care is actually immeasurable in its excellence and scope. Then all that you are will be God-coloured.
  10. I ask God to make our New Covenant community do God justice in word and deed fulfilling God’s blueprint for humanity and showing the very nature of God to all.
  11. God is capable of doing in us more than we can request of dream up. May it be so.

 

 

 

 

 

A Christmas Offering

Pop-UpEmptyStabelAmbleside

“Pop-Up Empty Stable, Ambleside” Photo DS

Dear followers:

May the Father offer you grace

May Jesus offer you his hand

May the Spirit offer comfort and

Guidance to you as

You begin the New Year.

 

Below is a poem by Mary Oliver

Blessings, Deborah.

 

Christmas Poem

Says a country legend told every year:
Go to the barn on Christmas Eve and see
what the creatures do as that long night tips over.
Down on their knees they will go, the fire
of an old memory whistling through their minds!

[So] I went. Wrapped to my eyes against the cold
I creaked back the barn door and peered in.
From town the church bells spilled their midnight music,
and the beasts listened –
yet they lay in their stalls like stone.

Oh the heretics!
Not to remember Bethlehem,
or the star as bright as a sun,
or the child born on a bed of straw!
To know only of the dissolving Now!

Still they drowsed on –
citizens of the pure, the physical world,
they loomed in the dark: powerful
of body, peaceful of mind,
innocent of history.

Brothers! I whispered. It is Christmas!
And you are no heretics, but a miracle,
immaculate still as when you thundered forth
on the morning of creation!
As for Bethlehem, that blazing star

still sailed the dark, but only looked for me.
Caught in its light, listening again to its story,
I curled against some sleepy beast, who nuzzled
my hair as though I were a child, and warmed me
the best it could all night.

Mary Oliver

 

Poem for a Rainy Day: Recovering

I am a recovering know-it-all

Before that I was self-righteous

Prior to that I was a

Miss Goody-Two-Shoes

A first-born sibling

A mother of three

No four

Now I realize I

Have two left feet a

Collaged ego

I only hang out with those

Who are better and know

More than me

In some way

Always.

DS

“Mossy Tree Roots, John Lawson Park” Phone Photo DS

IMG_1964

End of Summer Retreat Day Part II

EndofSummerRetreatDay

“End of Summer Retreat Day” DS Phone Photo

 

Having observed

The sea

Nature in feathers

Human nature vibrant

It felt urgent that I move on

To the gallery

 

I looked in the closed windows

I meandered the long garden row

I had my quotes in tow

To read on the pier

 

I chose a place on the side rocks

I dozed

I placed some found shells

Three in all beside a

Pilfered recycled

Community garden Sunflower head

 

Proof of my day

I photographed

I read and enjoyed anew my quotes

My perch was comfortable

In the sunny sun and the windy sea

From the side rocks so new to me

 

I looked back at the land

At the place that had once held my art

At the place I had walked rain or shine

To another time

Of celebration

Contemplation came easy now

Of God of times bad and good

Of times misunderstood

Of love and loss

Of times filled with

Life and

New plans came

 

I came off the pier and noticed

So many flowers near pink as I like

I skirted the bike on the lane

To take a picture again

And hiked the 6 blocks back to my car

More at peace than before

And ready to work

 

The studio beckoned but

Exhausted I reckoned a

Rest on the bed instead

And anxiety returned

And the retreat day returned

And the contemplative events

Returned me to

Peace in place of plans

As I survived

A day unworked

A creative day

An interrupted day

A day of play

Of gratitude

To face my class

Homework undone.

 

 

Spiritual Practices:

Silence

Contemplative Walking

Spiritual Reading

Attention to Nature

Prayerful Play

Re-Membering Faith Stories

Practice of Rest

Gratitude

 

Creative Practices:

Collage

Photography

DS

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

End of Summer Retreat Day Part I

Hand Painted Collages

“Hand-Painted Collages” by DS Phone Photo

I awoke with an unexpected empty day ahead.  I still hoped for the call or text that would bring my complex plans to fruition before 8:00am.

It was a day of nothing

It was a day of disappointment

It was a day of getting used to a new normal, of not seeing a loved one daily going forward. And a day of waiting for another’s decision.

At 6:30pm I had a class but it was 10 hours away.

 

I felt unsettled, down, post-anger.

It was a day after the rain

It was a day of sun of still summer

It was a day to fill

But I could do no work.  Hopes had been dashed.

 

A new plan came to me

I would practice what I preach

I compiled a personal retreat day

Consisting of

An intention

A drive

A snack

Observation of nature

A walk

Some favourite quotes to read

Something new to do

A rest

And no time limit

Although the parking sign said

Two hours max

 

Energy returned so I did some chores before I left.  Actually truth be told I felt a surge of creativity come over me.

 

I started some collage art cards

Finished one for a friend in recovery

Left the chores for later

Inspiration takes priority today

 

The retreat started with a detour

A visit to a site neglected in my daily round

A place unvisited was photographed

And considered for future thoughts

 

The retreat took a walking turn

A turn toward Ambleside Beach

Rerouted West

Another detour to Crema

Food for the soul could wait

 

The retreat continued at the community garden

Competition for my muffin

A stare from a seagull offering

Unwanted accompaniment

He was big

He was white and grey

He had a yellow and red eye

He was persistent in his

Observation

 

A flashback of Hitchcock’s “Birds” came

My mind reasoned

As I looked at

His hooked

Yellow

Strong beak I felt

Peace as I remembered his

Scavenger character disciplined

In his gaze

I put my muffin away

 

The sun on the sea

Felt new

Felt stolen

Felt gifted

Shifted me to

Another bench

 

A bulldog came catching

A ball next door

I checked that he could not reach me

Not quite

Another danger averted

Subverted my focus

And fears subsided.

 

A couple walked down the lawn

I said Hi rather than

Appear withdrawn

I stretched my face to

A smile she gladly returned and

Reported that she had hidden a chair in a bush

That she would drink her beer and then go to work

At 11:30 am.

Conflict and Confrontation

Knitted Tent Belkin Gallery

“Knitted Tent, ‘Material Obsessions’, Roth and Morton, Belkin Gallery, UBC”

Photo DS

Sometimes life can only be expressed in a nonet:

It was a week of conflict

A week of speaking my mind

A week of correcting paperwork

A week of calling people out

A week of phoning to say no

A week of advocating

A week of maneuvering a plan

A week of staying quiet

While I can

 

This summer week intended to be

A creative studio week

A week of picnicking with friends

A week of rest at the beach

A week of seeing what I need

A week of laughing with children

A week of sightseeing

And meal making

Together

 

Next week I will attend a festival

I will make the best of all

I will get back on the treadmill

And on the seawall

I will read Barbara Brown Taylor

I will paint the portraits that call me

The collages that long for me

The geranium baths eluding me

I will breathe and pray

This again is the only way

To sustain me other than

The gallery.

 

Nonet:

A group of nine people or things, especially musicians.

A musical composition for nine voices or instruments.

A poem with nine lines