folksong…
The trunk of memory
guards brittle pages of
a tune we used to sing –
He’s got the whole world
in his hands – but we’ve
outgrown folk and their
songs. These days we
play fast while the whole
world scrolls at our finger-
tips, long ago dismissing
the primitive notion that
you and me brother, not
to mention the little bitty
babies and the wind and
the rain, are even here in
the first place due to the
camp meeting dreams of
an infinitely tender hand,
and that all the verses
might just be more than
we the people were ever
meant to hold.
– for Len Sweet
Love Len Sweet and your poem in his honor.
Truly beautiful, and the perfect poem for my sabbath. Glad I stumbled upon this blog.
Thanks, Lizzie…you are welcome to stumble around here again.
There is a ‘so beautiful universe’ of meaning in your wonderful poem, John. It just might make a scripture-soaked, aqua colored, Jesus-following semiotician sing.
Well, if it does that’d be swell, just swell. Thanks for stopping in…
Well said, John. We scroll the whole world with our fingers, and miss the Creator of the universe!
Absolutely beautiful. I love your work and look forward to each new installment immensely.
I am so honored by this, John. A first for having a poem dedicated to me. “Camp-meeting dreams” says it all . .. .
wow, two of my favorite writers on the same thread, one dedicating a poem to the other. i’d call that a two-fer. love the poem John, it sure says much about Leonard that you would dedicate it to him.
This reads like a campfire. I’m mesmerized and staring into it.