Archive for the ‘Mornings’ Category

Home II: Parking Lot   Leave a comment

Home II

Above:  The Beginning of the Draft of This Poem

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On a December morning,

I pull into the parking lot

of an auto parts store,

in search of ice scrapers.

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Inevitable is my noticing,

next to that spot,

where, for a month in 2010, I did score

high school graduation papers.

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It was a brief employment fling,

something which I got

to supplement my teaching pay, for

I thought I’d like to grade more papers.

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Instead, I wound up learning

that the part-time job did not

satisfy me, and even bothered me sore-

ly; the task I came to curse.

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It seems that my scoring

proved too strict.  I got

no invitation for an encore,

for my standards I did not reverse.

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That ended three years and a month

ago, and I am still in town.

When I was a child, seldom did I remain

anywhere longer than three years,

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so my tenure in Athens doth stunneth

me; I smile, not frown.

Moving so often was a great pain,

one which engendered terrible fears

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within me.  My blessings of stability runneth

over; I welcome familiar sights and sounds

from three or more years past.  The main

thing is that they are around here.

KENNETH RANDOLPH TAYLOR

DECEMBER 3, 2013 COMMON ERA

Animal Snack Bar   Leave a comment

Animal Snack Bar

Above:  The Second Draft of the Poem

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Bird seed and deer corn–

quite a feast for neighborhood wildlife–

birds, squirrels, and deer–

who gather in a backyard in the morn

and the afternoon with hunger rife.

Yet of humans they have a fear

proper for creatures wild born;

it probably preserves their life

elsewhere and just continues here.

Their presence I will not scorn,

for it proves soothing amid strife

caused by someone near.

KENNETH RANDOLPH TAYLOR

NOVEMBER 28, 2013 COMMON ERA

Saturday Morning Thoughts   Leave a comment

Chalfont Drive November 16, 2013

Above:  A View in Athens-Clarke County, November 16, 2013

Photograph by Kenneth Randolph Taylor

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On a Saturday morning, as I sit

and work on hobbies at a pace

quite leisurely, I want only to get

more such time, for it is a grace.

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I look out a window and see

a sleepy neighborhood, with only a few

automobiles passing by; easy should be

a walk, if that is what I choose to do.

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But now I am content to remain indoors,

quietly, doing very little quite slowly.

Doing this will not make me bored.

No, I will do it quite gratefully.

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For excessive activity is not a virtue.

No, it is a curse.  And, if one a life

balanced seeks to lead, it is true,

one must strike a balance most nice.

KENNETH RANDOLPH TAYLOR

NOVEMBER 16, 2013 COMMON ERA

Morning Stillness   2 comments

Morning Stillness Draft

Above:  Part of the Rough Draft of the Poem

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My preferred and primary style of private prayer is contemplative.  I become more contemplative as I age, in fact.  Besides, excessive talking to God gets in the way of listening as much as one should.

KRT

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As the deer longs for the water-brooks,

so longs my soul for you, O God.

My soul is athirst for God, athirst for the living God;

when shall I come to appear before the presence of God?

–Psalm 42:1-2, The Book of Common Prayer (1979)

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I sit amid quiet

interrupted by the gentle

movement of a clock hand,

the sound of the conditioning of air,

and the slight

voice of vehicles

driven on the close thoroughfare.

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I sit, think, and listen

to the near-absence of noise

and find it appealing

and necessary for my soul.

To it I have learned to hasten

so I can hear its voice

through my inner self ring;

its absence takes a terrible toll.

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This stillness I need;

this quiet I crave and desire,

for to my life it is crucial

yet sometimes in short supply.

In this stillness there is a seed

of spiritual life higher,

life which is essential;

that is no lie.

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To find this quiet one must still be,

distracted not, nor too occupied,

for noise can drown out peace

and concerns be as idols.

To find this voice spiritually

one must not in overactivity abide

and excessive sound must cease;

sometimes one must be idle.

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The reward is truly great–

beyond comparison and most precious–

and if one must sacrifice

to find it, so be it,

for this holy desire only God can sate.

It comes without fuss

and is worth any price

one pays it to get.

KENNETH RANDOLPH TAYLOR

AUGUST 30, 2013 COMMON ERA

THE FEAST OF CHARLES CHAPMAN GRAFTON, EPISCOPAL BISHOP OF FOND DU LAC

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http://blogatheologica.wordpress.com/2013/08/30/morning-stillness/

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Thoughts at Sunrise   Leave a comment

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Above:  Sunrise in the Alleghenies, Circa 1880s

Image Creator = Gibson & Company, Cincinnati, Ohio

Image Source = Library of Congress

(http://www.loc.gov/pictures/item/2003655692/)

Reproduction Number = LC-DIG-pga-03214

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I wake today as the sun

Began to climb the sky,

And send its rays o’er all the earth

With more than dew to dry.

For it had rained the night before,

A gentle, cooling rain

That washed God’s earth, the grass and trees

And made them clean again.

—–

Oh, that God would send a rain

Upon this heart of mine,

And wash it as He washed the earth

With gentle drops, so fune.

‘twould be a new day in my life,

The sun would brighter be,

And darkness would be left behind;

My heart would then be free.

RANDOLPH WINBURN BARRETT

AUGUST 17, 1932 COMMON ERA

Posted August 10, 2013 by neatnik2009 in Mornings, Randolph Winburn Barrett (1905-?)

Tagged with ,

Sunrise   Leave a comment

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Above:  Sunrise from the South Battery, Charleston, South Carolina

Image Source = Library of Congress

(http://www.loc.gov/pictures/item/det1994015831/PP/)

Reproduction Number = LC-D4-34727

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Riding over heav’n’s highway,

Is day’s bright king–the sun.

its light is flung o’er all the earth,

As sunrise greets each one.

—–

Dawn’s gray mist is rolled away,

And darkness turned to light,

Morn’s bright rays seem brighter still

When foll’wing shades of night.

—–

Light brings work, and work brings life,

A life like God’s own Son,

Light brings sight, and sight brings joy,

The joy of work well-done.

—–

Christ arose in dawn’s gray mist

And rolled it all away;

Christ arose and brought the light

That brings our happy day.

—–

Words of angels at his tomb

Ring clear o’er ev’ry way:

Christ is risen, and has brought

The light–eternal day.

RANDOLPH WINBURN BARRETT

JULY 26, 1932 COMMON ERA

Morning Silence   2 comments

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Above:  Sunrise, Sea of Galilee, October 1945

Image Created by the Matson Photo Service

Image Source = Library of Congress

(http://www.loc.gov/pictures/item/mpc2010007352/PP/)

Reproduction Number = LC-DIG-matpc-21869

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O God, you are my God:

and earnestly I seek you.

My soul thirsts for you, my body yearns for you

like a land that is dry and thirsty for water.

–Psalm 63:1-2, A New Zealand Prayer Book (1989)

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Early I rise,

sleepy dust no longer in my eyes.

I sit in the quietness,

hear a bird outdoors

and an occasional car on the road.

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Apart mostly from the bird,

however, there is near silence,

as I hear the sound

of my pen on paper;

that is little to be heard.

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In a few minutes

the clock will say 6:00.

I could return to bed,

but now that I am up,

perhaps soon will be a time to sup

instead then to write some more,

contemplating as I go,

what the quietness has in store.

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Most prayer, for me,

does not consist of words;

I have no interest in speaking

to God most of the time.

Rather–and I think fortunately,–

I want mostly to listen

to what God has to say

in the still, silent voice;

this is part of the homage I pay.

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Peace and quiet the world seems to fear,

for television sets blare at us,

advertisements scream to shop there or here,

vibrations from stereos in cars affect me

when I am not in those cars, but am at home.

Influences tell us to pump up the volume,

to go-go-go!,

to seek our destiny

somewhere other than in the eternity

of God here and now,

as well as elsewhere and later.

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From peace and quiet we ought not to roam

habitually, for too much noise is a bitter foe,

and it is good to live in a milieu

lacking in perpetual fuss.

So I seek God within,

for God is there, abiding always,

waiting inside each of us

for us to repent of our sin

of chasing vainly after the divine

in ways that do not satisfy

and places where God is not.

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So may this be a lesson:

God is not in the din and the glitz,

for it is true that holiness does not fit

inside that shaped hole.

No, in the stillness and quiet

God does speak.

May we listen to the eloquent wisdom;

the silence may we not malign,

for God lives within us,

inside the soul.

KENNETH RANDOLPH TAYLOR

JULY 1, 2013 COMMON ERA

THE FEAST OF PAULI MURRAY, CIVIL RIGHTS ATTORNEY AND EPISCOPAL PRIEST

THE FEAST OF CATHERINE WINKWORTH, TRANSLATOR OF HYMNS

THE FEAST OF HARRIET BEECHER STOWE, ABOLITIONIST

THE FEAST OF JOHN CHANDLER, ANGLICAN PRIEST, SCHOLAR, AND TRANSLATOR OF HYMNS

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http://blogatheologica.wordpress.com/2013/07/01/morning-silence/

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