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Written Wind: enough
http://writtenwind.blogspot.com/2008/02/enough.html
Poetry is the impish attempt to paint the color of the wind. Maxwell Bodenheim. Wednesday, February 13, 2008. Because we aren't. Enough that is. There is so much to do, so much that is needed, and so much that we could do, and we just don't quite manage. I've talked about this before. It is never enough. These small things we do. Acts of compassion and love. A smile, a gift. A house built, a life bettered. A law changed, a sentence commuted. Help extended, debt forgiven. It is never enough. A move to a l...
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Written Wind: I've walked here before
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Poetry is the impish attempt to paint the color of the wind. Maxwell Bodenheim. Friday, February 22, 2008. I've walked here before. Sometimes life is just unfair. I've walked here before. This trip past the edge of the cliff. Trusting in skilled bridge to carry me across. I've walked here before. The tedium of waiting. Waiting for the edge. Waiting for the other side. I've walked here before. I've seen these looks,. Of fear, bewilderment, and. Misunderstanding placidity for courage. Which I cannot stop.
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Written Wind: December 2007
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Poetry is the impish attempt to paint the color of the wind. Maxwell Bodenheim. Friday, December 28, 2007. Tears of the world. So, in the often forgotten but incredibly wonderful church calendar (see an online version here. Today is the feast of the Holy Innocents. Horrible, sad part of history. Even more horribly and sadly not alone in history. Christmas is beautiful and hopeful and I love it. Holy Innocents reminds us that there is still change to be worked in the world around us. We fail too often.
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Written Wind: January 2008
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Poetry is the impish attempt to paint the color of the wind. Maxwell Bodenheim. Wednesday, January 30, 2008. One of the things I love about reflection is that time becomes more and more of a construct. The actual sequence of events is less important than how or why they are connected. The story that is important today can have happened yesterday or 5 years ago; what matters is that now it is important. This, though, is actually about tomorrow morning. I barely had to wake up. Had kept me from sleep.
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Written Wind: June 2007
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Poetry is the impish attempt to paint the color of the wind. Maxwell Bodenheim. Wednesday, June 20, 2007. Sort of at least.Here are a couple of poems/prayers I've written in conjunction with my life in the Church. This first one was written for use as a community gathered to worship. It is untitled. Come Holy Spirit,. Quieten our minds,. Still our hearts,. Help us to recognize and. Celebrate the Risen Christ. AMEN. Working with people. (How's that for saying a lot and nothing at all.). Well, almost me.
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Written Wind: Rippling Words
http://writtenwind.blogspot.com/2008/02/rippling-words.html
Poetry is the impish attempt to paint the color of the wind. Maxwell Bodenheim. Thursday, February 28, 2008. I love words. I love playing with them; I love the challenge of finding the right word; I love the power words hold- to shape and define the world. Sad, hard words that repeat. Filling my mind, my heart. I know only through pale. Past ripples of the same. All the futures I have dreamed. Words, repeating even still. Repeating and mutating as I. Dream nightmares of the. Futures they could mean.
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Written Wind: Last Post
http://writtenwind.blogspot.com/2008/03/last-post.html
Poetry is the impish attempt to paint the color of the wind. Maxwell Bodenheim. Monday, March 3, 2008. Sorry for any panic. The last post here. Chalk it up to a pre-surgery need for distractions or part of the developing of my own voice in the blogosphere, but I've made a change. I'm leaving both Written Wind. And Faith to be Strong. I'm moving to WordPress and For the Means of Grace. I look forward to seeing you all at For the Means of Grace. I'm cross-posting this on both of my Blogger sites.). Wednesd...
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Written Wind: October 2007
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Poetry is the impish attempt to paint the color of the wind. Maxwell Bodenheim. Sunday, October 28, 2007. If you asked me (which you didn't), I would tell you that good poetry is much like prayer, it is somehow out of time, applicable in more than one setting, and at the same moment, entirely relevant and set in the moment of it's creation. For more thoughts like these, go back and reread the first poem I posted, On Writing. How do I praise God from my life? I know how to cry to you. How do I praise you?
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Written Wind: November 2007
http://writtenwind.blogspot.com/2007_11_01_archive.html
Poetry is the impish attempt to paint the color of the wind. Maxwell Bodenheim. Wednesday, November 28, 2007. This is one of the joys of this blog. I never expected to be someone with a blog. Ever. But then I was. Really, that's all there is to that story. But this week I was reading Tandaina. And Sophia (who has recently taken what I hope will be a break from her blog)'s commments about Flimsy Words. And then I wrote this. Lumpy bright words that won't flow together. To soak them through myself. You kno...
