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Two Poems for Good Friday and Easter
Two of my favorite poets–John Donne and Gerard Manley Hopkins–have written short poems that will draw our hearts toward the truth of Jesus’ resurrection this Easter. Join me in meditating on them!
The Cup: A Good Friday Meditation
Here’s a brief poem to help you meditate on Christ, the suffering Servant. May you have a blessed Easter, friend!
Masterful Poems: “Pied Beauty”
I don’t know about you, but springtime always draws me to praise the Creator. It must be something in the air (apart from the pollen). Gerard Manley Hopkins’ poem “Pied Beauty” is a wonderful tool that leads us to praise the Creator of all things dappled.
When the Frost is on the Punkin
There are two kinds of people in the world: those who refuse to acknowledge Christmas until December, and those who have been playing Bing Crosby since October. Whichever side of the spectrum you fall on, I know you’ll enjoy this week’s fall-related poem. It’s a classic by James Whitcomb Riley called “When the Frost is on the Punkin.” Go grab your pumpkin spice latte or your peppermint mocha and give it a read.
Masterful Poems 3: “The Lantern Out of Doors”
“Out of sight is out of mind.”
Is it just me, or is that completely accurate and rather condemning? But why does this apply more to people and responsibilities and never to chocolate??
This post examines our tendency toward amnesia in light of Gerard Manley Hopkins’ poem “The Lantern Out of Doors.” Fortunately, Hopkins helps us celebrate the One who always sees and never forgets.
Masterful Poems, Part 2: “Meditation 1.1”
What love is this of Thine that cannot be In Thine infinity, O Lord, confined, Unless it in Thy very person see Infinity and finity conjoined? With this beautiful, mind-bending question, Edward Taylor begins his poem “Meditation 1.1.” His wit, wordplay, and sincere devotion…
Masterful Poems: “Carrion Comfort”
“Not, I’ll not, carrion comfort, Despair, not feast on thee.” So begins a poem that may not be, at first glance, a very cheerful one. After all, the first half of the poem is addressed to Despair itself, describing it as dead, putrefying flesh—a…
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