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…
Category: love
Paper-thin Parchment
When I was six, I crafted a heart from glue and loose glitter on a morning, too far gone from now. At an age, where a cow jumped over the moon and sung of spoons I had yet to bend on plates, fated to be shattered by falling stars. Dear six-year-old me, trapped between the blank…
Heather
Based on ‘In the Grass’ by Arthur Hughes. Heather Sing to me of scarlet skies and I will paint you a valley, sealing your sigh in my wind. One, where on topaz mornings, I might look out onto the restless waves and see in their rise, a reason why my heart skips stones. -Amy Struthers
L’Arlésienne
I gaze upon the Madame so long as admiration permits, hoping by a small chance, she may take note of my heart-like hands and steady the beating of my banal brush. This mystery, who mutes my madness and tames the tenebrific chuckles of a feverish mind. Imagine how richly I could paint the heavens, if…
Proserpine
Proserpine An empty incense burns beside anemones upturned and beckons for the beauty in the alms that were adjourned. Bequeathed to Death, as if to Life, the curse of Myrrha holds the remnants of remembrance by the seed that stains her folds. An alabaster artifice is all that’s left of love- A portrait of the…
Bird on a Wire
Bird on a wire, do you know how to love or are you predestined to favor the dove? -Amy Struthers (Image by: Maddy Weiss)
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…
Ben and Jane
He was Ben. She was Jane. Two children in a class, not knowing what was growing with each paper that did pass. He was Ben. She was Jane. Two pupils in the hall, drawing hearts on crumbled charts and letters on the wall. He was Ben. She was Jane. Too shy to hold her hand,…
Right Handed Rhymer 
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