hope – Right Handed Rhymer

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…

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…

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…

Untitled:

Inspired by a sketch of The Prodigal’s Return by Sir Edward John Poynter. Into your arms, I return, confessing with a heaving heart and cleaving to your familiar robes to stanch the wounds I accrued by pursuing a blind ambition I’d called sight. How humbling to know it is you who are right and I…

Hurt and Hope (Prose)

Hurt Hurt is like the turning of a loose screw into a board left in a damp driveway. The fish in a flat that faces the sea and the single mother on the long road, holding spilled milk to a car seat that bleeds. Hurt is the worm half-stamped by a heel worn out and…

Make A Wish (Rhyme and Prose version)

In memory of Clayton McDonald I’ve a wish to meet this Superman with arms that bear such steel, but the trouble is my Superman is fighting hard to heal. I’ve a wish to meet this Superman they said is made of lead, but the trouble is my hero is confined to hospice bed. He bounces…

Bloom

Bloom where you are planted, child, bloom amongst the weeds. Sprout within the desert, child, and turn your many seeds. Sow hope where there is hopelessness, sow faith where there is doubt, and never will you thirst for rain should there appear a drought. -Amy Struthers (Image by: Dorne Marting)

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….