Tag Archives: sonnet

The Water Who Thirsted

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Jesus, tired as he was from the journey, sat down by the well. It was about the sixth hour. When a Samaritan woman came to draw water, Jesus said to her, “Will you give me a drink?” 
John 4:6-7 

You may listen to me read the poem via the player below.

Thirsty, the Water asked of the woman
Who came to the well in the day’s heat,
“A drink, please,” though she, a Samaritan,
Not caring if it seemed indiscreet.

“But you have nothing by which I may draw
Water for you. Though it’s clean, still it’s deep.”
He pulled me with questions as if to call
Me out of the depths, rouse me from sleep.

Yet thirsty I was and to Water spoke:
My heart leaked with words, confession poured out;
Faith ebbed and pooled till my suspicion broke
To flood me with joy as love soaked my doubts.

And drinking, I am filled, full as the sea
Because of the water who thirsted for me.

Randall Edwards 2022
Artwork: James Tissot (French, 1836-1902). The Woman of Samaria at the Well (La Samaritaine à la fontaine), 1886-1894. Opaque watercolor over graphite on gray wove paper, Image: 10 5/16 x 14 13/16 in. (26.2 x 37.6 cm). Brooklyn Museum, Purchased by public subscription, 00.159.69 (Photo: Brooklyn Museum, 00.159.69_PS2.jpg)
#gospelofjohn#thepoetrypub#poetry

Job’s Ending

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Today’s is the last day for the November Poem a Day Challenge. Day 30’s prompt is appropriately, Endings.

I use it to wrap up a series of poems I’ve written over the past two months which have drawn their inspiration from the book of Job. This poems is based on Job 42.

You may listen to me read the poem via the player below.

There was nothing left to do
But put my hand over my mouth,
Not speak another word.

You are right and strong,
And though I still believe
I did nothing wrong,
I know you did not either.

For now my eye sees you,
Sees all that you have done,
Perceives something you will do,
And it is too wonderful for me;
For not only can You do all things,
But you will do everything
That needs doing.

I see the work of your hands
And something of their stretched span,
Something more than getting what’s owed,
Someone in between,
In between merely getting the reaping 
Of that which was sowed,
And the strong arm which can
Work or hold or let go.

Somewhere between the span of those two hands
Is a heart that will be betrayed and broken—
Broken open in an effusion of blood
And water and love.
I had heard of You, but I have spoken
Of things I did not understand,
Things I did not know.

And though I still sit on this heap of ash,
And though I have more questions I could ask,
I am at peace, am comforted, and at rest.
For I am Yours, and You are mine,
And that is best.
Now, whatever good You send 
Will not be the first but only the rest
And resting in You shall never end.

© Randall Edwards 2021
Artwork: Ilya Repin, Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons

Day 4: Transition

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(transiens) “passing over or away,” present participle of transire “cross over, go over, pass over, hasten over, pass away,” from trans “across, beyond” (see trans-) + ire “to go” (from PIE root *ei- “to go”). Meaning “passing through a place without staying”

I’m catching up a bit on the November Poem a Day Challenge.

“Transition,” to me, does not sound appealing;
It reminds me of friends who have gone or are leaving,
It reminds me too much of the lingering pain
Of those whom I love and am grieving.

Transition has too often been used to describe
My friends who lie in beds hospitalized,
Whom I visit with, counsel, and pray;
But who in the end, transition and die.

“Transition” speaks of a lightness of being
That life is received not grabbed for keeping,
Is held with palms open till it goes away,
Billows in fullness but like a cloud, fleeting.

I long for the Time when transition goes away
And Time says, No hurry. Have a seat. Stay.

© Randall Edwards 2021.

There Was a Day

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Job 1:6 Now there was a day when the sons of God came to present themselves before the LORD, and Satan also came among them.

You may listen to me read the sonnet via the player below.

In the land of a wise, eastern nation,
Lived a man with an average name like Bob
Who came up in a conversation
Between The Adversary and God.

Bob was a great man and good, for he would
Consecrate his children regularly
Make a sacrifice for each for they could
Have sinned or blessed out God unknowingly.

Now there was a day (his eldest’s birthday),
When trusting Bob’s sincere consecration
That God gave all Bob had and loved away
To The Adversary’s examination.

What can you do when you’re held to your word,
But release what was given and bless the Lord?

© Randall Edwards 2021. This poem is for Christ’s church. If it is helpful, please feel free to copy or reprint in church bulletins, read aloud, or repost. I only ask that an attribution be cited to myself (Randall Edwards) and this blog (backwardmutters.com).

Behemoth

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Under the lotus plants he lies, in the shelter of the reeds and in the marsh. For his shade the lotus trees cover him; the willows of the brook surround him. – Job 40:21-24

You may listen to me read the poem via the player below.

I wonder if Monet ever thought
That among the two hundred and fifty
Paintings of water lilies that he caught 
Something more than his pond in Giverny--
That lurking beneath the pond’s surface, there
Might be something in the edge’s dark hues,
A hiding hippopotamus somewhere,
Silent in the shade of deep greens and blues?
And I wonder if the leaning into
The beauty of that place with a palette knife
Whether Behemoth rose up, charged, broke through 
The still surface with the terrors of life:
His mother dying or his wife's last breath,
To swallow him again in grief and death?

© Randall Edwards 2021

Artwork: Claude Monet, “Le Bassin aux nymphéas, harmonie vert”