Tag Archives: religion

Poetry, Writing

Dieties

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(Poem 284 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)

AI Generated image I prompted on Gencraft.com https://gencraft.ai/p/gkITyk

Just as deities make
people out of clay,
people fashion deities.
The many limbs and heads,
monstrous features,
horns and wings,
and fear-inducing
parts are what evoke
a sense of wonder
and awe, I suppose.

If I were to create
my own deity,
she would be a kindly
old woman with gentle
eyes and a hearty laugh,
who bakes bread,
tends to her garden,
wears an apron,
and pats my hand
while we sip tea.

@Home Studio – 284th poem of the year

Runner ups for the Dieties photos to accompany my poem:

Poetry, Writing

From the Dust of the Ground

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(Poem 283 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)

“Then Yahweh Elohim formed humans from the dust of the ground and breathed into the nostrils the breath of life; and humans became living beings.” Genesis 2:7

AI Generated image I prompted on Gencraft.com https://gencraft.ai/p/MlsaGg

The Mongolian god
Ulgen created the first man
from clay floating on the water.

The Bornean bird spirits
Ara and Irik used clay
and the sound of their voices.

In Ijaw tradition,
Woyengi fashioned humans
from earth
that fell from the sky.

Wonder Woman was sculpted
from clay by Hippolyta.

The goddess Aruru
created humans out of clay
according to the Epic of Gilgamesh.

And in the Korean Seng-gut,
humans are made from red clay.

The Chinese Nüwa
molded figures
from the yellow earth.

Vietnamese tales describe
Ngọc Hoàng and the Twelve Bà mụ
making people from clay.

The Qur’an, Torah, and Christian Bible 
say Yahweh and his angels
fashioned humans from dust
in their image.

@Home Studio – 283rd poem of the year

Bible Hub. Lexicon, Genesis 2:7, https://biblehub.com/lexicon/genesis/2-7.htm

Runner ups for the Clay Man photos to accompany my poem:

Poetry, Writing

Friday the 13th

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(Poem 257 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)

AI Generated image I prompted on Gencraft.com https://gencraft.ai/p/05ijyi

My grandmother Mema’s father’s
father Grandpa Carroll was an extremely
superstitious man who came down
hard on anyone who walked under a
ladder or spilled salt without throwing
some over the shoulder or broke a
mirror without taking proper precautions.
Mema did not remember what the proper
precautions were, as she was a small
child when she got harshly scolded for
spinning a chair on one leg in the dining
room, and her father had to come to
her defense, reprimanding his own
father for spouting such nonsense.
He hated black cats, unlucky numbers,
stepping on cracks, the opening of
umbrellas in the house, speaking of
the dead, and she thinks he told her
about the need to keep an axe under
the bed when a woman is in labor
to protect her from evil spirits about.
She found his stories both horrifying
and confusing, since her parents
countered that they were not true.
As she grew, her only superstition
became the spells of prayer she
uttered without ceasing to protect
her loved ones, which I know saved
us all on a number of occasions.

@Home Studio – 257th poem of the year

Poetry, Writing

Aslan’s Reign

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(Poem 107 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)

AI Generated image I prompted on Gencraft.com https://gencraft.ai/p/HlVSfb

Aslan’s reign shall have no end;
from ocean to mountain,
the land will be prosperous.
Jew and Gentile, and everyone
else, will gather on the banks of
The Great River to gaze at the
beauty of the living stars who
dance and move as they please.
After looking into his eyes,
those who rejoice at seeing him
are welcomed into his world; no
one is forced to dwell in paradise.
Soup and pie, jellies and ices,
fruit and nuts, and endless tea—
magical beasts, giants, and dragons,
dwarves, centaurs, and unicorns alike
share in feasts of honey and cakes,
pomegranates and peaches in
many-colored sugar and cream.
Toffee trees with peppermint leaves
grow wild alongside lovely dryads.
The great eagle soars above
the rolling hills and never once
notices the mice or small birds
fluttering below, as there is no
more death, mourning, crying,
or pain, for the former things
have passed away, and all is peace.

@Home Studio – 107th poem of the year

Lewis, C. S. The Chronicles of Narnia Series. HarperCollins, 1950-1956.

Revelation 21:4, The Bible. King James Version, http://www.bible.com/bible/compare/REV.21.4

Poetry, Writing

Oh, Moses

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(Poem 32 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)

AI Generated image I prompted on Gencraft.com https://gencraft.ai/p/upYIM6

Oh, Moses, what have you done?
Your grudge against Egypt has
bound an entire people to stone,
made monsters of the very images
they destroyed out of fear, and
made them guilty of the blood of
their brothers of other mothers.

Poor Moses, torn between
the people of your birth
and your adopted culture,
millions have endured
the weight of your words.

Dear, Moses, the generation of
Jubilee is upon us, our freedom
established by the edicts written
in the blood of every life lost
in the name of inheritance,
promised land, birthright,
Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob.

No, Moses, no longer do the
grievous burdens chain us to your
commands and dictates.
We are newborn.
We are released from bondage.
We are free.

@Home Studio – 32nd poem of the year

Health, Poetry, Writing

Will My Awakening

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(Poem 2 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)

<a href=”https://www.vecteezy.com/free-photos”>Free Stock photos by Vecteezy</a>

Will my awakening
shock me like a lightning strike
send sizzling energy
bolting from my fingertips
and announce to all in
earshot that I am alive?

Will my awakening
descend gentle as
falling snow and land
on my eyelashes
spinning a new reality
forever in a moment?

Or will my awakening
happen in my sleep
while I dream, a bit of
saliva drooled onto my pillow
and I have no idea it
even happened?

@Genuine Joe’s mid-day – 2nd poem of the year

Fiction, Poetry, Writing

Mahogany suede-scented candle

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Mahogany suede-scented candle
lifts my prayers heavenward
petitions spit like sparks out
to the beyond where golden stars
balance on black silk with shiny
pearl strings of galaxies in a coil
teakwood, oil, flame, light
magic cradled in Japanese pottery
hands pressed clay together
in meditative knowing aligning
time, place, now, never
where all the answers sit
comfortably together unbothered
by the questions.


Essays, Writing

Tea Party

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I went to a lovely tea party at the Christadelphian Hall.  My mother and granddaughter sat at the table with me and enjoyed a delicious spread, a variety of teas, and fun conversation.  A Bible class was led by Maritta Terrell pointing out metaphors for spiritual life in the form of tea.  Ideas like the following:

  1.  It is what’s inside that counts.  The tea bag itself is not significant.  It’s the tea leaves that create the flavor.
  2. Hot water is needed to steep the tea.  Just like we are tested at times to see what we’re made of.
  3. It takes time to steep tea.  We need to be patient with ourselves.
  4. Additives make it even better.  I prefer cream and sugar in mine.  Our connections with others add to our experience and make life better.

I am not a member of the Christadelphians anymore, but I am thankful for the foundation of discipline, critical thinking, ethical standards, and examples of faith that have helped to shape me.  I was asked when I would return as a member by a dear friend at the tea party.  I explained that my current status as a feminist makes such a likelihood improbable.

But these people are my family, my past, and hopefully part of my future.  If they will accept my presence without complete agreement with their views, I will continue to visit and connect.  I love tea parties!