Tag: poetic
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Jericho Road
(Inspired by a Sunday Sermon by the Rev. Dr. Mark Stauffer)
I’ve walked many miles through the wilderness
and witnessed things strange to behold.
I’ve searched high and low for enlightenment with stories left better untold.It seems I’ve been plodding forever, through perilous forests of sin.
The road stretches out wide before me, for this journey has yet to begin.The sun shining bright on my shoulders, it’s blinding light scorches my skin.
This road rises further than ancient Palestine and it’s namesake so deadly within.The bending and winding seem endless,
with many miles left to unfold.There’s many a danger and cold-blooded stranger,
here on the Jericho Road.These fellows that walk along side me, weren’t there just a moment ago…
and they give me a feeling like thieves up to stealing
and I shiver as if from the cold.In a moment they sped right on by me, without turning an eye toward a soul.
Casting their gaze as if in a haze, how the rich never notice the low.These bastions of amity truly show no humanity,
kicking dust on the dying man lying below.The treasure they’re seeking isn’t what they are reaping,
be mindful the seeds that you sow.The politicians, physicians, and holy men, get straight to the front of the line.
While lesser men stumble in clothes far more humble,
drowning their sorrows in wine.I’ll travel alone on this pilgrimage;
I don’t fit into any of these robes.
Too poor to keep up with the privileged
and too clever to plod on with the slow.It takes not the teachings of wise men
or stories from ages of old.
To know to be kind to the needy,
while walking life’s Jericho Road.by D. Ryan Lafferty
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Musicians
Ever aware of the passing time, they’re counting out each phrase.
They read the world in beat and rhyme, even syncopated ways.Their hearts pump out the dum-dum-dah-do of the driving bass guitar,
while piano chords harmonize with that redhead at the bar.Pedals pound on a standing grand,
as notes slide from those chunky velvet keys.
The choir belts a soulful song that could bring the faithful to their knees.The rhythmic drummers pound the sound out deftly in the wings,
as a rousing loud crescendo lifts those lowly weeping strings.The hollow drone of the big brass horns, so somber and alone,
with space to hide whole worlds inside, composed of pitch and solid tone.It’s a tidal wall of music,
of vibrato never strained – melody rests and rises before the ultimate refrain.The romping notes go marchin’ in
right down that slick trombone,
and they’re dancing round the high-hat’s rim,
just to drive that funky rhythm home.For musicians it’s all timing,
raw emotion right or wrong.When the leader snaps his fingers,
all is music, all is song.
by D. Ryan Lafferty
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Patience, The Man Who Waited
In all the fables, I never read the story of the man who waited.
Waiting, not like the yammering two, expecting Godot,
but for things that only a lifetime of truly tried patience can keep.There must be a long-lost tale,
spun by some grandfatherly slave to teach the virtue to his masters’ spoiled children.A shot in the dark,
a blind hope,
to maybe,
just,
by some,
miraculous chance,
one day,
to dream,
that this wait might end.Burning, starving, growing,
more intolerable with every second,and somehow longer now,
as anticipation makes every passing traveler seem a false arrival.He waits for something new.
A thing seen, smelled, and almost tasted,
but never offered in kind.by D. Ryan Lafferty
Literary Crumbs: Poems & Short Stories to Savor by D. Ryan Lafferty 