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75 pages

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Life Is Simpler Toward Evening is an inspirational, thought-provoking poetry book with poems featuring such topics as the majesty of clouds, the loneliness of being apart from a loved one, and always, the glory of God.

Fr. Ralph Wright, who is a poet of great distinction, pens works that reflect his knowledge of and respect for the masters. His images are both beautiful and startling; his metaphors perceptive, his use of rhyme natural.

His expertise lies in the unity of word and idea that is the essence of poetry. Life is Simpler Toward Evening is one of Fr. Ralph's eight books of verse. The poetry of Life is Simpler Toward Evening is never obscure but nevertheless demands that we return, again and again, to delight in and savor both words and subtle meanings.

Life Is Simpler Toward Evening offers a soothing escape from the pressures and turmoil of every day life.

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Spiritualism

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Publié par	eBookIt.com
Date de parution	21 février 2013
Nombre de lectures	0
EAN13	9780984011728
Langue	English

Informations légales : prix de location à la page 0,0300€. Cette information est donnée uniquement à titre indicatif conformément à la législation en vigueur.

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LIFE IS SIMPLER
TOWARD EVENING

BY

RALPH WRIGHT O.S.B.

Copyright 2011 Father Ralph Wright, OSB,
All rights reserved.

Published in eBook format by Monograph Publishing

ISBN-13: 978-0-9840-1172-8

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.

If you are interested in having your book designed, published or converted to eBook format please contact:

Monograph Publishing, LLC
1 Putt Lane
Eureka, Missouri 63025
info@mathisjones.com

Cover By William E. Mathis
© 2011 William E. Mathis, All Rights Reserved

PROLOGUE

"It is the honourable characteristic of Poetry that its materials are to be found in every subject which can interest the human mind" - so read the opening lines of the 'Advertisement' or Prologue to the Lyrical Ballads of Coleridge and Wordsworth published in 1798. After describing the poems that the book contains as 'experimental' Wordsworth, writing anonymously, goes on to say: "It is desirable that readers should not suffer the solitary word 'Poetry,' a word of very disputed meaning, to stand in the way of their gratification; but that while they are perusing this book, they should ask themselves if it contains a natural delineation of human passions, human characters, and human incidents; and if the answer be favorable to the author's wishes, that they should consent to be pleased in spite of that most dreadful enemy of our pleasures, our own pre-established codes of decision."
These poems, too, are offered for the pleasure of the reader whoever he or she may be. They are the product of the past 15 or 20 years of my life as a monk. It is considered more hazardous these days to put one's 'vision' into poetry: people immediately feel uneasy and talk of propaganda. But perhaps it is when we cease to try to share our deepest thoughts, feelings and beliefs - about God and love and sin and silence and violence and hatred and union and distance and time and eternity - that our poetry ceases to please or to inspire. I would like my poetry to be read and loved not only by poets but also by the non-poet clientele of our world. Men and women of every walk of life and every interest. From those who program computers or punch cash registers to those vice-presidents who make multi-million dollar deals and survey the world through the dark one-way windows of tall buildings. For we all have to cope on an almost daily basis with belief, unbelief, love, loyalty, betrayal, union, violence, pain, ecstasy, joy, depression, sickness, anger and death.
The poems that follow are attempts to capture moments from these common experiences and to hold them up boldly and without shame for others to share. The Christian sees the dark side - sin, tragedy, separation, death. But he also sees the awesome beauty of all

PEOPLE WHISPER GOD TO ME

People whisper God to me
far more than mountains
for landscape beauty bores —
however roaring or majestic
is the pageant music
played behind
their massive faces
sunsets have no sympathy
and — for all its background
awe — inspiring paintwash —
granite cannot smile.

WOMAN

within her
and of her being
comes one to be
who will not cease

she speaks each day
God's Word made men
uttered again, again
and again
into our silence

hers is a dignity
that none may measure
hers a patience
refined by fire
hers a majesty
unperceived
in the painful tedium
of giving birth

the mystery
of her being
echoes the mystery
of God creating

and out of darkness
Light

SWALLOW

With a lightning dive and a
swoop
sweeping long and low
over rolling grass, hillside
and sudden pools
skimming the ground or the water and swinging
with boomerang motion
back and high in the air
handsome as Hector and sleek
as some Black Beauty
groomed stud stallion
— only for speed —
you knive your way
through empty air
with scimitar sureness
and finite ease
leaving a wake
of high peep notes
and with the passing
pen of your passage
writing beauty
alive in the sky

I AM A SHELL

I am a shell
listen to me
for the roar and silence
of the eternal sea.

A MEDITATION ON THE NEED FOR DARKNESS

somewhere a star was growing slowly old
in the uninfinite a light was dying
exchanging heat for cold and day for night
achieving a new darkness into which
sperm could be uttered to create a god

fire condensed to lava and became
through far millennia a cool dark earth
water and rock and air and even ice
were slowly there

leave room for the darkness, darling, leave me room
carry me, mother, carry me in your womb
towards eternity patiently into being

think what millennia did first gestate
with none, thank God, save God, to count and wait
(who being eternal logically couldn’t)
for all to happen

we are just one
one of a milion million — how the mind
becomes so easily drunk with multiplicity
and reels accordingly —
one of a million million finite things
born of a burnt-out lump of coal
flung from the hearth of incandescent light
onto the cold floor of night
like a picked bone to a hungry pup

God too was born of darkness became Man
Christ needed like new grain the darkness too
to hit the earth and die in giving birth —
he was enwombed enfleshed and then emboned
undarknessed into being and embraced
there in the lamplit stable then not now —

leave room for the darkness, darling, leave me room
carry me, mother, carry me in your womb
towards eternity patiently into being

the awe would scorch our minds if we had not
gloved it in clumsy concepts to protect
us from explosion

he came but half an hour ago or less
in cosmomanic terms into our world
a world that once was light but had to be
a cold beacon of darkness to become
a womb unto its God

leave room for the darkness, darling, leave me room
carry me, mother, carry me in your womb
towards eternity patiently into being

the crumble moment of our frail words
ceilings against our heads

the cold star wombs the utterance of God
a universe prepares new silence
just for the possibility of sound

(and the Word was made Flesh)
the world achieves new darkness to leave room
for eyes to wonder at the fact of light
(and leave, it must be said, room for the blind)
the potter finds a way to fashion slime
from which might grow these hands
— both His and mine

leave room for the darkness, darling, leave me room
carry me, mother, carry me in your womb
towards eternity patiently into being

LUST

I lust
to be me
free
triumphant
unbound
by the limitation
of being
created

I lust
to be you
in a union
of ecstasy
where your whole body
and your mind
are mine

I lust
to be God
looking
with power
over all
from before
the beginning

I lust
to be me
to be you
to be God
but He
offers
all three

BECOMING MAN

The humble moment
of total fusion

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