"Pentecost Sunday Prayer" and "The Winds of Youth in Spring": two poems...

Spring has certainly come to this town where I live, North of San Francisco across the Golden Gate Bridge. The second poem posted today is about Spring, and though this month will mark Summertime, I can still feel Spring. The poem itself was written in 2001, and it has never been published but is now here for you, reader.

The first poem is one from 2002 and though posted on a writer's workshop, elicited no comments. Otherwise, I would fill you in on the comments and maybe post those with the poem on Pentecost. By the way, I have trouble spelling "Pentecost" every year. And every year I look it up on the Brittanica website because they have a Merriam-Webster Dictionary.

Because I spell it wrong, it doesn't find the word. I suggest to the publishers of the Brittanica site that they create the dictionary so that misspelled words can find the right spelling. Is that so hard? It is by a process of illimination that I get the right spelling.

Pentecost Sunday Prayer (revise)
by Peter Menkin -- 2002

For I am empty and forlorn,
so I hope and pray.
Tongues of language and flames.

Lord.
I search; let me
welcome the Holy Spirit.
The God who brought
us out of Egypt to freedom;

let God do this emancipation:
accept and welcome,
and let us receive the Spirit.

Reach out, lift the heart,
have faith that the Spiritfire
comes settling in, penetrating us:
Goodness.

Tongues of language and flames.
Dance in our hearts.
Let it be me in Church,l
et it be me, let it be others.
Come Holy Spirit. Consuming fire;
burning yes.










The winds of youth in Spring, they call...(2001)
by Peter Menkin

Many times my youth
comes to me, like a breeze
stirring the landscape,
and all that's in it, reminding me
that my companionship

with other living things
is renewed by growing.
Birth is an exclamation
surprise, and my springs
of blood in marrow of bone

are enlisted with birth's
great divine entry
to this world. We adore
the strength of youth,

calling to it in unknowing
conversations that continue
as part of daily life.

Fresh stirrings and wonderment.
This touch of exclamation
is the wind caressing
the spring day, awakens

the years even during
the aches of moments;
so alluring and enjoyable,
this renewing youth.
Carried into older age.