From The Poet’s Ready Pen

From The Poet’s Ready Pen

275 183 Robert Rife

From the poet’s ready pen comes the

yawning stillness, leaking out

from linen thoughts, stretched

tight upon the hungry loom.

How dear these words come, dear soul,

trading green for our grey.

Like the pastiche of a late morning sigh,

our tough and torrid skin oft forbids

your trim veracity, always enough

to root it all in the insufferable lightness of song.

 

Tease out the rising tides,

their turning waves run amok.

Oh ready writer, graft our branch to seed,

your root to leaf and banish

all the rotted soil to its brown eternity.

 

Winnow out from worn whimsy,

with your willow-throated pen, our

long-faded hope. You set about

your task, anonymous to none but

the unseeing ears of deaf brutes.

 

Letters, cast adrift to their watercolor

harbors, dive down, down,

down from brushes, pinched

tight in fingers that point

with precision to everything that eludes.

Paint wide the foraging colors of

dimpling fragments of forest, new.

Tease out our trembling days, and release

what hides itself in the obvious.

Robert Rife

My friends think me complicated. My employer thinks me talented but at times, troublesome. God, and my wife see me as I am - a philosopher-poet with a rather circuitous journey of life and faith, the music and worship minister at Yakima Covenant Church, a singer-songwriter, multi-instrumentalist, poet and writer. I am a graduate from Spring Arbor University with an M.A. in Spiritual Formation and Leadership. These poems, and my life, are dedicated to those places where life, liturgy, theology and the arts intersect with and promote spiritual formation – who we are becoming. Join me on this journey to word-land. Maybe we'll find each other there and share a story or two.

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