life – Right Handed Rhymer

Questions

What does man say of his eminent death, when he follows his fate with a quavering breath? Does he mutter a truth to his comrade beside? Or swallow his fate as he grapples with pride? -Amy Struthers Image by: James Kovin

The Incredulity of Saint Thomas

It began with a tree and a garden in the palm of an ardent Creator, who gifted the world salvation, before man had recognized his fall. Beauty among us. Truth before us. And in a moment, paradise lost. Until the hour, when upon a cross made of uprooted garden, He became the atonement for our…

Ray (Based on a True Story)

Your name was as it sounded-a candle in the dark,to guide me through the tunnelslifting melodies of larks.Rejected from fine Julliard,you swayed as you played Bach,when they offered you bravadoshould you flourish with the flock.“Alas” they said, “you’re talented,but must step into place”,when they noted that such movementswere preventing you from grace.But you, just like…

Prayer (A poem based on Adam Elsheimer’s ‘The Stoning of Saint Stephen’)

Based on Adam Elsheimer’s ‘The Stoning of Saint Stephen’. Prayer Lord, Repeat in us the assurance that this house is not our home, that no harsh word is without consequence, and that no trial stands without divine reason. When, rooted in our heart, the longing to pray for strength comes to the forefront of all…

Poem

Poem There once lived a young boy named Poem, who didn’t quite know how to rhyme, who fancied the fields and the flowers, his mom felt he’d sing of in time. Young Poem liked rowing and painting, and took well to Latin and Greek, Yet, for all that he grew, both in mind and in…

Ages of Man

Ages of Man (a poem based on the “All the world’s a stage” monologue from Shakespeare’s As You Like It) Ages of Man Infant: Out of the pellucid womb, I grasp for reeds I can weave Schoolboy: into a song. Hoping by a smile of favor, I may play Lover: a fragrant note. Soldier:…

Portrait

From the ground we lap the springs, that feed our vein and fade our wings and drip into a dust we sweep, as held by time in stills we keep. -Amy Struthers Image by Nathaniel Chang

Confessions (a poem based on the writings of Saint Augustine)

At the altar of a holy God, the knees of man do quake in silent supplication for a nation at its wake. At the altar of a holy God, the heart repents of pride professing of the blessing by the Spirit that’s its guide. At…

The Priceless Piece

For those who can draw, let your own soul be seen, never mind those who say it is drivel. To the walls of the MET, let the critics reflect, that such wonders began with a scribble. For those who can sing, let your own song be heard, never mind those who say it is chatter….