Author: Ian Trimnell

Little Purple Flower By Aufie Zophy I am a little purple flower My petals so extremely small I ‘ve stood in the grass for many an hour Enjoying a breeze most of all But, oh, what happened to my peers! Just yesterday, it moved me to tears While the children of John were playing their game...

Christianity Introspective by Colin Ian Jeffery God gave His cherished son, the Lord Jesus Christ Sacred spirit, who suffered for Mankind’s salvation As sacrificial lamb dying to save the faithful From the temptations and bribes of the Devil. Judas betrayed Jesus with a kiss to the High priest’s guards Was rewarded with thirty pieces of silver...

TO THE READER by Denise Levertov As you read, a white bear leisurely pees, dyeing the snow saffron, and as you read, many gods lie among lianas: eyes of obsidian are watching the generations of leaves, and as you read the sea is turning its dark pages, turning its dark pages. Good morning and welcome to...

CANARY by Rita Dove for Michael S. Harper Billie Holiday’s burned voice had as many shadows as lights, a mournful candelabra against a sleek piano, the gardenia her signature under that ruined face. (Now you’re cooking, drummer to bass, magic spoon, magic needle. Take all day if you have to with your mirror and your bracelet...

FIRST FIG by Edna St. Vincent Millay My candle burns at both ends; It will not last the night; But ah, my foes, and oh, my friends⎯ It gives a lovely light! Good evening and welcome to Evening Prayer That this evening may be holy, good and peaceful, let us pray with one heart and mind....

NIHILISTIC PASSWORD SECURITY QUESTIONS by Soheil Rezayazdi What is the name of your least favorite child? In what year did you abandon your dreams? What is the maiden name of your father’s mistress? At what age did your childhood pet run away? What was the name of your favorite unpaid internship? In what city did you...

HOPE By Joseph Addison Our lives, discoloured with our present woes, May still grow white and shine with happier hours. So the pure limped stream, when foul with stains Of rushing torrents and descending rains, Works itself clear, and as it runs refines, till by degrees the floating mirror shines; Reflects each flower that on the...

A SPACE INVITATION. By P.J. LE SUEUR I have fifteen heads and sixteen legs And come from Outer Space, To answer an invitation from The noble human race. I was circling round the moons of Bree In the galaxy of Greer, When a faint transmission came from Earth: It said, ”Wish you were here.” It’s taken...

Good evening, everyone.  Welcome to our prayer time this evening. Tonight we begin by reading Psalm 19. 1 The heavens declare the glory of God; the skies proclaim the work of his hands. 2 Day after day they pour forth speech; night after night they reveal knowledge. 3 They have no speech, they use no words; no sound is...

FAMOUS by Naomi Shihab Nye The river is famous to the fish. The loud voice is famous to silence, which knew it would inherit the earth before anybody said so. The cat sleeping on the fence is famous to the birds watching him from the birdhouse. The tear is famous, briefly, to the cheek. The idea...

KEEPING THINGS WHOLE by Mark Strand In a field I am the absence of field. This is always the case. Wherever I am I am what is missing. When I walk I part the air and always the air moves in to fill the spaces where my body’s been. We all have reasons for moving. I...

NOTHING TWICE by Wislawa Szymborska Nothing can ever happen twice. In consequence, the sorry fact is that we arrive here improvised and leave without the chance to practice. Even if there is no one dumber, if you’re the planet’s biggest dunce, you can’t repeat the class in summer: this course is only offered once. No day...

HAPYNESS by Carl Sandburg I asked the professors who teach the meaning of life to tell me what is happiness. And I went to famous executives who boss the work of thousands of men. They all shook their heads and gave me a smile as though I was trying to fool with them And then one Sunday...

WITNESS: INCOMMUNICADO by Denise Levertov They speak of bonding. Of the infant, the primitive without sense of boundary, everything as much or as little as itself. Yet what loneliness the solitude of thought before language. A kind of darkness stirring the mind, blurring the glare and the glitter of vision, steam on the white mirror. Good...