Sunday, May 19, 2019

METAMORPHOSIS


It's Spring!

I've been noticing the pretty butterflies
and thinking about...


Image credit: martydavisphotos.com


METAMORPHOSIS

Once I was a caterpillar, dwelling upon the earth,
Crawling along day by day, adept at feigning mirth.
I only knew the earthy life, I thought that that was it;
I took what terra firma gave, the pleasures and the grit.
There was no beauty in me.  No one ever looked here twice,
Few cared if I were evil, no one knew if I were nice.
I was only concerned with myself, what the earth could give,
Yet, inside I was sensing a far better way to live.
Instinct led me to spin a thread and weave a neat cocoon;
I became a living mummy, wrapped tight within my tomb.
What was happening to me?  I tried to kick and shout,
“Help me!  Open up this thing!  I want to get right out!”
No one heard and I was powerless, so I went to sleep,
Not knowing what was ahead of me, feeling something deep.
I don’t know how much time went by within my tiny tomb,
But sensed that I was being changed, as one inside a womb.
Finally, instinct worked in me.  There was a sudden urge
To break out of my chrysalis and from the dark emerge.
Somehow, I then received the strength to burst my being free;
Alas, the golden Light broke through and there was a new me!
I took some time to understand, some time to wonder why,
Then I just shook myself a bit and I began to fly!
And `lo, I was so beautiful, and `lo, I saw the sun...
Oh, after living on the earth, soaring was great fun!
A wretched worm was I no more, I knew that that was true,
I was reborn and I became a creation wholly new!
A butterfly!  A butterfly!  I received my wings,
Glorious splendors of the Heavens, all the higher things.
All old things have passed away, they’ll never come again;
I’ve set my mind on things above, on these I will attend.
Now, even when I swoop to earth and walk upon the ground,
I’ll never be a worm again...I’m Butterfly...glory bound!
Praise God for metamorphosis, it’s by His loving grace
That I’m a new creation now, and I shall see His Face.

Maude Carolan

Sunday, May 12, 2019

In Memory of My Mother


Happy Mother's Day!

In Loving Memory
of my dear mother...

Frances Longo Walsh--1915-1966



OLD MOTHERS

Never had the opportunity--
missed the privilege
of doting upon my old mother.
Mother died
of a heart attack
at fifty-one

Watch with envy--
sweet old mothers
with rosy rouged cheeks
and charming smiles
carefully navigating
footed canes
or wheeled walkers
Dutiful daughters
accompany them
pleasantly
in doctor’s waiting rooms
taking their tweed coats
making small talk
about the grandchildren
and what Aunt So And So
will be serving
the church ladies for lunch
Blessed daughters
who left beds unmade
dishes in the sink
who listen attentively
to doctor’s instructions
see that Medicare
and supplementary insurances
are processed properly
who assist them
with their coats
and to their cars
stopping at pharmacies
on the way home

Maude Carolan

The above poem won an honorable mention in the Allen Ginsberg Poetry Contest and was originally published in the "Paterson Literary Review."

Sunday, May 5, 2019

To All the Busy Moms...

Let's see
if we can give a tired mother a break
this Mother's Day...

ALL THE WOMEN I KNOW ARE TIRED

I see it in their strides
their slumped shoulders
their shuffling feet
as they drag themselves
through their tasks

I see it in their uncovered yawns
their dull expressions
the darkness below
their lusterless eyes

All the women I know
are weary, drained
unfocused
they stare into refrigerators
they stare out windows
they stare at papers
they try to remember
what they intended to do next

All the women I know
shower rather than bathe
drive rather than walk
phone rather than visit
They dream about
what they hope to do
when there's
time

All the women I know
are sleep deprived
up too early
down too late
rest-less
as they try
to get it all done

They can't get it all done
there's not enough time

All the women I know
are tired

Dog tired

especially during the holidays
because they love, they
shop and clean
cook and bake
wrap, decorate
send cards
invite
invite
invite

They're exhausted

especially those who go to work
especially those who go to work
and have children
especially those who go to work
and have old, ailing parents

All the women I know
fall asleep over teacups
in the evening
or over a book
or over the bills
or in front of the TV

All the women I know
believed the lie
drilled into them
in the '70s
that they could do it all
be it all
have it all

all what

all is nothing

when they languish
in their shoes

Maude Carolan

The above poem won an honorable mention in the Allen Ginsberg Poetry Contest and was originally published in the "Paterson Literary Review."

Sunday, April 28, 2019

In Memory of Mary Leak

In Loving Memory of
Mary "the Hugger" Leak
1933-2019


A PLACE PREPARED
For Mary Leak, 1933-2019
In My Father's house are many mansions; if it were not so, I would
have told you. I go to prepare a place for you, and if I go and prepare
a place for you, I will come again and receive you to Myself; that where
I am, there you may be also." John 14: 2-3 NKJV

You dwell now in a place prepared, by God with you in mind;
a place of exquisite beauty, pastoral and sublime,
a place no earthly eye has seen, no ear has heard about…
Beyond our wildest imaginings…Of this, there is no doubt.

God has given glimpses of our home in Eternity;
The Bible says the streets are gold. There is a crystal sea.
It speaks of emerald rainbows and it speaks of no more tears.
We are told there is no darkness, no trouble, pain or fears.

Trees are laden with luscious fruit, high walls of jasper gleam,
wide open gates of giant pearls…It's true! It's not a dream!
Foundations of chalcedony, beryl, jacinth, and sapphire,
amethyst, emerald, sardonyx, topaz…jewels afire!

In the midst of this wonder sits the Lamb upon the Throne.
No need for blazing sunshine…He is Heaven's Light alone!
I wish I could see you, Mary, beholding this great bliss,
seen your joy inexpressible, at God's tender first kiss!

I know there are many mansions in our Heavenly home.
Jesus prepared one for you. It was He Who bid you, "Come."
When I speak of you in Heaven, folks think I'm being brave.
but I know you dwell in Glory, not in a dismal grave.

Can't picture you wearing a halo, strumming golden strings,
reclining on a fluffy cloud. No! God's planned greater things!
Can imagine you at a gate with Mary, Martha, Paul
praising God and thanking Him for Calvary, love and all.

I miss you, my dear friend, and ask Jesus to fill the space
that in me is empty since you went to that prepared place.
Jesus is so faithful. He gives comfort that does not cease.
Believing you dwell near His heart fills my soul with peace.

I know you rest in God's bosom, dream of you bathed in Love,
believe you’ll have a hug for me, when I join you above.
I know for sure big rolling tears would saturate my socks
if I did not believe, Mary, you're in Heaven and it rocks!!!

Maude Carolan Pych

The above poem was adapted for Mary Leak
from the original version, written in 2004.

Sunday, April 21, 2019

The LOVE of GOD

Today’s Lenten Meditation

A-Poem-a-Day
Until Resurrection Day

Alleluia!
He is Risen!!!

Happy Resurrection day!

Image credit: awesomebestpictures.com



GOD’S UNFATHOMABLE LOVE
“For God so loved the world, that He gave His
only begotten Son, that whoever believes in Him
shall not perish, but have eternal life.” John 3:16 NASB

For God—
The Majestic Almighty, Omnipotent, King of Kings
Ancient of Days, Elohim, Adonai
my beloved Abba Father

so loved—
with the bigness of His gracious agape heart
a love unfathomable, unconditional
and abounding in mercy

the world—
the whole wide world and everyone in it
in Israel, Jordan, Iran, Russia, Nigeria, China
in Ireland and Italy, where my ancestors came from
in HochHausen, Germany, where loved ones reside
where we’ve been on vacation, Aruba and Bermuda
and all of us right here, in Wayne, New Jersey

that He gave His only begotten Son—
given to us, freely, our Father’s extraordinary gift of Yeshua/Jesus
His sinless Son, to save us from punishment we deserve
for sins we have committed

that whoever believes in Him—
so all we need do to receive this wondrous gift
is believe God’s trustworthy Word
believe that Jesus was born into the world
and that He is our promised Savior

shall not perish—
because of Jesus’ sacrifice upon Calvary’s Tree
and because His Most Precious Blood atoned for all our sins
death has been swallowed up in victory!

but have eternal life—
because of Jesus’ miraculous Resurrection from death
we live because He lives
and will dwell with Him
in the Kingdom of Heaven
to enjoy unimaginable splendors
forever…forevermore

Praise the Lord!

Maude Carolan Pych

Saturday, April 20, 2019

Two Easter Poems

Today’s Lenten Meditation

A-Poem-a-Day
Until Resurrection Day


Image credit: factsandfaith.com

I am pleased to post two Easter poems today:

RISEN

It’s Holy Saturday

Dough is rising
on the kitchen counter

filling me with thoughts
of rising

helium balloons
set free

sunrise
over the Sea of Galilee

waking up

rising

soap bubbles
floating skyward

seagulls soaring

fireworks
booming and bursting

jet planes at take-off

rocket ships
with long trails of fire
zooming to the moon

O, but nothing

nowhere

and no one

has ever done it

or will

…like Jesus

Maude Carolan Pych




My friend, Sister Jane Abeln, SMIC, is a fellow member of the North Jersey Christian Writers Group. In 1965 she wrote the following Easter poem. She brought it to this month's meeting for critique by our group, then made a few changes and sent it to me to post on this blog. It's very musical and meaningful. Read, enjoy and REJOICE! 


          Victim’s Victory

            An Easter Song

The Sheep sleeps:
The meek Lamb who did not speak
before His shearers; Who without shout
under the rod of His branders was led
to His death ‘mid jeers of bystanders;
with only tears for the clotted crowd
and a cry as He felt abandoned
even by God. He sleeps now,
in peace, after the shock,
in the bed of the rock.
He is dead.

The weak Lamb, the meek Man,
meek and weak for love none can speak,
for people no Lamb but Love
could ransom and re-seek.

Bound around, wound in white,
found in the ground, the Light hid from sight.
while in the night, guards watch in fright,
minding the stone, tightly sealed,
for dread lest friends His Body steal
and then propound to all around:
“He is risen from the ground.
He is risen from the dead,
truly risen as He said.”

Then, on the first day of the week,
while still in sleep the people lay,
women came to seek the grave
and, with fragrance sweet, array
the Lamb weak, the Man meek—but
He was not there!
That same daybreak did He speak
to His Mother and to another with her name
when that Mary came to weep and pray.
His life of glory
He’d begun to share.

Redeemed People, Graced Race,
Hear and praise!

The Lamp is light with new fire bright,
Light of a New Day.
The Lamb leads the way
to keep the sheep in the sight
of His Father’s Face.

Crucified, died, from Whose spear-slit side
came streaming blood, a cleansing flood
to wipe away the pride of sin and win again
the sons and daughters of men
by the tides of saving grace.

The sleeping Sheep arises.
He leads the lambs to the land of brightness
where He stands at the Right Hand
of the Most High.

They hymn to Him, the Victim,
praise for so great a Victory,
by which He gained the glory
that sets women and men free.

“Lamb without stain, Who died in pain,
slain to save the race from Satan, pride, and shame:
To You we raise our acclaim of praise.
May You reign for ages of days!
All raise to the skies praise to You on high.
We cry: You rose alive!
Truly, truly, You are alive!
Alleluia! Alleluia!”

Sr. Jane Abeln, SMIC 
Easter, 1965


Friday, April 19, 2019

The Important Thing Is...

Today’s Lenten Meditation

A-Poem-a-Day
Until Resurrection Day

Image credit: constancedenninger.blogspot.com



HE IS NOT HERE
Israel Pilgrimage--2006

Some believe
the Body of Messiah was placed
in the highly venerated
tomb located in the Church
of the Holy Sepulcher

Some believe
He was buried
in a pastoral place
known as the Garden Tomb

The important thing is—
He died. He rose.
He’ll come again.

The important thing is
as a placard proclaims
at the entrance
to the Garden Tomb:

He is not here—
He is risen from the dead

and the important thing is
our sins are atoned--

We live because He lives

so there’s nothing
left to say, except

Hallelujah!

Praise be to Jesus, Our Risen Savior!

Maude Carolan Pych