Susquehanna dawn:
below us, a bridge over
a river of clouds
we rise through the fog
above, two falcons ascend
to a broad clear sky
miles of trees turning
before us autumn unrolls
haiku by haiku
Susquehanna dawn:
below us, a bridge over
a river of clouds
we rise through the fog
above, two falcons ascend
to a broad clear sky
miles of trees turning
before us autumn unrolls
haiku by haiku
Blogger’s Note: I think I’m done now. No more weird poetry in the archive. I don’t know what inspired me to this “any moment you could snap” stuff, but there it is. Enjoy.
that edge is closer than you think
stand a minute, knowing well the world
is round, rain wets, life breathes,
love conquers all.
what proof have we? do we know
even ourselves? our own potential
to disappoint is manifest—are we not
of the world? why then persist?
rise tomorrow, should it come, and
convince yourself of absolutes,
relativity, the gravity that binds.
the sun will rise, the snow fall,
the market rebound, the phone ring—
and when these things do not,
jump
J. Thorp
22 Jan 2002
On the way to the work this morning, I heard a lengthy news piece on the benefits of talking with kids about sexuality early and often. Jodi and I were leaders of our church’s high-school youth group in Michigan, and we heard firsthand where some our teens were getting their info – teen comedies and hip-hop, mostly. I wrote this in the midst of that, as I recall.
what kids need to know
it’s not like the movies,
first off—
it is never the best ever;
rarely slow, and almost never
graceful.
the lighting is rarely gold or even
blue, and it doesn’t set well to
music.
not everyone is doing
it — fewer than you’d think from
the sounds.
your folks, however, are — and that’s
good; you want that, even if you don’t care
to know.
maybe it’s just once a week, a month, but
God do they deserve it — don’t begrudge them that
one thing.
its beauty isn’t really meant for
pictures — like childbirth, the aesthetics are
lacking.
remember, on the playground, when they said how
it was done? that great and sinking feeling that somehow it
was true?
these miracles are less of water to wine, and more of raising
Lazarus, the crucifixion, a plague of frogs — glorious but not
pretty.
you know how easy it is but not
how hard, how complex it can be, even
in love.
the mechanics are a snap; anyone can do
it — houseflies are adept, and you’re no
insect —
but it complicates. it breeds life, from which
you cannot turn — not without killing something
like love.
J. Thorp
23 Jan 2002
… like this. She was a sad soul, but a good friend. I learned a lot. Maybe not enough, but quite a bit.
she smiles
she smiles sometimes.
her face breaks;
cheeks pucker, lips part.
she smiles —
crow’s feet clench.
she smiles, a gash,
a tight pink scar.
It cracks, bleeds,
and, at the pain,
she smiles she’ll never
smile again.
J. Thorp
09 Nov 2001
like breathing
it doesn’t take real effort, like
deep thought or the flight
of birds. prayer is like
breathing — you can’t do it
wrong. think respiration:
the diaphragm draws
downward; air rushes
to fill the void, lungs
inflate, blood and alveoli
trade in gases. molecules
swirl and dance
bond and break
according to laws
of biology
chemistry
physics
STOP!
close your eyes.
breathe in
and out again.
it’s inspiration and
exhalation — it’s
simple.
j. thorp
20 July 2003