"dazzle gradually"

"Dazzle Gradually" 2017 poems, paintings, new art & photography--a diary, a discipline, a delight. Read over my shoulder as I post my unedited poetry ---you can see it in the raw or get my first book and see how the work evolves with new books rolling out next year.

Polly Alice

Monday, March 8, 2010


In keeping with explanations about poems-- This poem was written almost twelve years ago.  I love green growing trees and spring seems always long in coming.  This poem mentions at least five different trees in the Old Testament and New.  Abraham's oak, Elisha's broom tree, Nathaniel's sycamore fig tree, and Christ's olive tree (where he was crucified).  I adore trees and the images in the Bible are some of the best.  Remember the tree of life and the tree of knowledge and good of evil which start the whole thing?  Lent is here.  It starts after Mardi Gras (Fat Tuesday) and continues as the long sorrowful road to a brilliant Easter.  In this part of the world Lent coincides with waiting for Spring.  Usually I give up something for Lent whether I'm attending a church which celebrates Lent or not.  This year I'm giving up Lent for Lent.  I figured it was a sorrowful enough year already.  However, I'm breaking it.  I can't help loving lent. Mourning is one of the best ways to get ready to rejoice.  In preparation for writing my annual Easter poem, I will be writing some lent poems. 
I can't help it.  Look for more postings here.

Under the largest Sycamore tree
ever to grow in Central Pennsylvania
short of hope enough to climb,
I sat in an abandoned field
waiting for a revelation.

I sucked in the hot October air
filled with mud smells and wished
I knew what I was waiting for.

You saw me under the  fig tree
praying for Messiah to come
doubting he ever would.

You stopped me under the willow
to envision trees with leaves
for the healing of the nations.

You heard me muttering under ancient oaks
about how your promises
Lent and Easter Wisdom from Henri J. M. Nouwendon’t make sense in the heat of the day.

And You found me cowering under a broom tree,
forgetting how your hand fed me
through the raven--
your finger carved water from the rock

Instead of sitting here dying,
listening to the hum of locusts,
I should walk out,
stand on the plain.

Let your still small voice
Devotions for Lent (Holy Bible: Mosaic)carry me back to where I can hear
the sound of the coming rain
Never let me again forget:
You had a tree of your own
on an abandoned quarry.

You were the forsaken stone
killed on a mountain of rejection.
You brought salvation
with your own arm.

Somewhere in the world
is an old tree stump
on whose branches were nailed
the Song of God’s own heart.

Somewhere outside a great city
victory was won
that I may sing.

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