Poetry
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An Advent Poem
Empty, the sanctuary waits beneath a tree, beneath a cross— the branches a burden and trough to bear body and newborn king. White wails of a storm without are vespers whispered warm within, And yet echo infant, age-old cry — of beginning and of end. In the lonely silence, all is dead, yet all holds living… Continue reading
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To an Old Piano on the Roadside
They were going to throw me away, Out with the rubbish bin. I, who you used to play, When you were small children. . Did it not mean much to you? The scales we learned together? Maybe if I were shiny, new, I’d be kept out of the weather. . But moving on is hard;… Continue reading
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To Travel: A Sonnet
I was a stranger here yet better known Away from all I thought myself to be— Away from all routines that made me, me, I found myself in being severed grown. Away from all the people I loved best I found myself in newer company— I found my soul in this older country Away from… Continue reading
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On Departing
My feet pounding the pavement to the beat Of poetry that laid the cobbled street, I feel a shaking sense of bittersweet For a face I only once did meet And wind that sings its fingers through my hair Will not again its subtle secrets share, Nor will the trees and flowers for me bear… Continue reading
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After a Discussion of Tennyson’s “In Memoriam” – a poetic reflection
A stillness falls and dimly-lit, A bell tolls distantly, As in this life we numbly sit For what we cannot see. The words of grief we hear afresh, A melody its gloss, As we seek out our souls ‘neath flesh Remembered in deep loss. This room is filled with love-lost ghosts Of our most private… Continue reading
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A Poem Passed-By
That moment gone was but a spot of time Yet still I yearn towards its eternity, To find it past yet feel it presently For such moments are best realized in rhyme. But somehow this one fails to really be As full in feeling as it was before; In that one moment, not a second… Continue reading
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A Poem to the Church of St. Edward King and Martyr
The words that lie written beneath our feet, Titles of saints, these graves in graven stones, The echoes of reformers’ gracious tones Which once and still all sinners here would meet. And still these words evoke fascination Of both pilgrim and poet’s seeking hearts, Quickening with the spirit each their arts, Knowledge grown into Imagination.… Continue reading
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Little Elegy
Walking through Cambridge, inspiration is difficult to avoid. My apologies to those on the sidewalk who had to go around me as I stopped to give this poor bird a proper elegy. “His eye is on the sparrow,” so ’tis sung But ‘neath some foot or wheel its feathers flung- Poor claws curled up in… Continue reading
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Phone Finds: Leaving
My phone storage is full due to my incessant note-taking…although I carry a notebook on me constantly, I somehow still find bits of poetry, philosophical musings, and novel brain-showers caught beneath the screen. Here’s one from my final morning in Scotland last summer: Continue reading
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Sit
I might just sit here for a bit. Here, where I am at once everyone and no one. Where I can hear men talking, dog-walking. Where I can watch mothers and children- ducks, squirrels, human. Where I can trace the birds’ antiphony from tree to tree. Where I am just another flower refreshed by a… Continue reading
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Ryanne Molinari 