The Awakening Spirit...(2001) By Peter Menkin ________________________________________
The vision on awakening during morningtime, blue sky white flower sky painting tree with creation reality.
This great experience of the spirit; the new life of incarnate God -- the Christ.
"I in them and they in me, that they may be perfectly one." Advent days; come Lord. Winter light hours beckon. The poinsettias red leaves.
Audio reading of poem by poet here:
Sunday, December 06, 2009
November Season By Peter Menkin
Mary was a lovely girl, serene; so given to an open heart, Friend of God like Abraham, seminal archetype welcoming
The Holy Ghost. What comes here November time? Pentecost Days of spirits and united souls, saints in heaven and memories Of the dead. “Where sorrow and pain are no more.” Mystical Holy Ghost.
Steadfast, “mystical body of thy son,” what is the light that shines Perpetual, for You do support us all the day long.
In mercy we wait, we pray, we believe Holy Ghost: Mary was a lovely girl, devout and promising woman of sorrows And joys.
Pentecost, how the Spirit did lead her to obedience By invitation of an angel of God. Mystical Holy Ghost.
What Spirit is this that leads her to “…the glorious company of apostles…” we pray in glory everlasting for all souls bask in that light, Renewing even the spirit of our minds, the Prayer book says.
Mary was a lovely girl, serene, so we turn to her life of joyful service-- Pentecost. In the heavens and on earth, just a phrase that speaks Of memory where lives eternal lives the wonderfully created, renewed dignity of human nature.
Is this not a cross? The Dead, gone. Remembered this November Season of reflection and changing season. Follow Him.
Mary was a lovely girl, And in her joy she has done so, follow him, now in the company of all the Saints and Apostles.
Audio reading by poet is here:
Friday, September 11, 2009
Preacher and Word of Holy Spirit A poem by Peter Menkin September 10, 2009
September, days of Pentecost, What comes here now...? Sensibly bring to talk about sermons: The Holy Spirit.
Modern days, 21st Century days In this State, in this County, in this town; let’s not speak of religion, Or faith, or spiritual terms This post Christian era— Its despair of no God, Christ(?)
What is: What comes? Holy Spirit, Holy Ghost— That Word, the Word, What comes here now.
Speak in sermon, spontaneously We say, and mention the work Of the Holy Spirit in this enterprise Of preaching, saying from the pulpit, The lectern, standing before the faithful, Of Gospel: breathing language.
Tame words, not so--always, but passion Of history, time, man, Christ And God, Holy Spirit. Always.
What comes here now...? I believe, so the preacher preaches, And he writes or says extemporaneously Talk driven and meant for listening to & for Of Pentecost, the tongues of language and flame, Its working ways come forth! Halleluajah! Christ is Risen, come Holy Spirit.
Photo by Rick White of Mill Valley, CA USA. A retired travel photographer for TWA, among others, Rick also worked in advertising at noteworthy Chicago agencies as an art director. This recent photograph by him taken Summer, 2009 is titled, "Sunflower."
Audio reading of poem by poet is here:
Saturday, September 27, 2008
At the Monastery on Sunday, Big Sur, California USA by Peter Menkin
In the now of time, many worshipers come Sunday to the Church.
The monks in choir, chant, singing to God, and the people listen, some speaking the words in song, too.
Communion comes to this mountain where people say God is present.
I think so, for you can feel the presence, and know what years of prayer and devotion will do to a place.
The Pilgrims here are moved, and the unusual is made conscious, for we are not always of a mind to be attentive.
The Spirit is strong this Pentecost. Wait to discover what it means; convincing Spirit, Holy Spirit allowing us to enter into devotion.
Notes on photo: Rick White, Mill Valley, CA USA titled Wildflower # 13, "Mandala" taken in Arcata, California at his daughter's Wild Chick Farm, an organic chicken raising farm. This photo from one of the meadows.
Sunday, October 14, 2007
Talking to the muse, Conversations with the Holy Spirit
By Peter Menkin - Jun 20, 2001
Edited October 27, 2007
"The spirit moves on the waters, breath of God
"to its dark and furthest corners by the wind
of heaven blown" You bring this melodious
soundings as all the earth around me receives
the wind that blows; divine love may we
gain the human self
You offer. Holy Trinity
the place begun is the place I found, as again
I see others and myself lose their lives to have
their life. Come Holy Spirit, as you are in languages
many, knowing our hearts and secret desires.
Love is a tender embrace, an entry so gentle
encompassing the spirit and soul, seducing and arousing
with whispers and songs; on the daylight through each
Bright morning star of Winter, it awakens me to Dawn...
There are few mornings when I am up from bed so early, as I was some years ago on a regular basis. My kinship to this experience of the Holy Spirit, and the stirring of neighbors is still with me, though this poem tells of an intense experience--religious. Christmas remains, and Epiphany is not so far away. I can say that I have seen a star in the sky so keen that it reminded me of the Magi and the star they followed. Of course, theirs was the brightest possible, and so large! I like to think that we can see a star that is a reminder of Christ. Happy New Year!
Early morning
by Peter Menkin (2000)
Startling reminder, ray point of light (star):
come winter daytime,
bring early morning to awaken anew before dawn, with life to arise.
Stretch pearl luster and harken
with children, young parents, neighbors,
and babies unborn asleep, resting in the womb
to come forth beginning.
The new day has intentions.
You Holy Spirit stir me, health and hopefulness restore.
Notice the Spirit of God, it is being awakened in us for Christmas...
Sometimes my poems are better, and sometimes they are not so good. That's how it goes with poetry. So is my experience. Here is a poem about Advent, written in the year 2001. My experience this third Sunday of Advent in Church was a different experience, yet similar. The Spirit was present today in our worship service of Lessons & Carols. And the Spirit was present in some readings I am doing for Advent. I am reading two books this season. Here I'll first mention the supplemental book.
Published by Morehouse, an Episcopal publishing house, the book titled "Run, Shepherds, Run" is by L. William Countryman. The subtitle is "Poems for Advent and Christmas." A dear friend bought me this book, one I did not know about, and I am grateful to her.
The main book I am reading is titled, "Watch for the Light: Readings for Advent and Christmas." It is a collection of different writers writing about this season. Published by Orbis, a Maryknoll house, I have found these helpful in giving me direction this season.
Here are some words from the hymn printed in the book of poems. The author is anonymous.
O come thou Wisdom from on high,/who orderest all things mightily;/to us the path of knowledge show,/and teach us in her ways to go.
Colored streamers move in the wind: a poem This may be more a series of notes and reflections, a journal entry, more than a poem. It is about the colored streamers representing the Holy Spirit that I viewed in 2000 at Grace Cathedral, San Francisco, California USA. They have the streamers up this year, too. A critic might not like this as a poem, but here it is as I wrote it in 2000.
Following the poem are some notes about it, a sort of correspondence from that time when it appeared first on The Atlantic Monthly Writer's Workshop.
Colored streamers move in the wind by Peter Menkin (2000)
The upon came incessant, gentle as breeze, light,
waving banners narrow,
these colored streamersf
anned the man of God
during the light resting
upon worshippers who through
hymn song, prayer lips kissing
with raised arms uplifted,
expectations of goodness
acknowledged as a greeting
to Sunday. Cross of giving
love does ascede to ascetic
requests when presented
before an urban multitude.
So his did so with humble
acceptance of divine will,
wounded in love to so join
the dance the spirit brought
upon the souls assembled.
"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.
Is it a spirit that "quenches" or is it "quenching." Quenching is probably right...
The ending of this poem says, "Quenches." The grace of God quenches the spirit, bringing peace is the thought I wish to communicate. Yet I think the right word is "Quenching", according to those who have read the poem. The grace of God is quenching my spirit for its thirst and its jangle of thoughts and busyness. Here is the poem, some words about contemplation, and even at times, meditation.
Waiting on the Spirit by Peter Menkin -- Jun 3, 2002
Inner life aware of soothing Spirit.
Waiting.
Grace that underlines
living.
Ask for waters
that spring from abundance.
Quenches.
Morning day star, poem prayer for the day's start...faith
Thank you for stopping by my journal (blog). Again, some thoughts on the morning and the sense of how a day can begin. Every morning isn't like this one, but fortunately I can report that most mornings are good ones. In this poem about the start of day the end says the soul groans. I had some difficulty with the ending, for I thought what does that mean?
There is a kind of inner moment or moments where the sense of relation with the ultimate and Almighty God makes for a humility and in that an effort to live in the world and in the spirit. Maybe you have experienced something like this yourself, reader. I've titled the poem "Faith in God" for that is what the experience is about.
I am reading Evelyn Underhill's thoughts for Lent titled, "Lent With Evelyn Underhill," edited by G.P. Mellick Belshaw, a Morehouse book. She writes of Faith in the reading for today, Friday:
"The fruits of the Spirit get less and less showy as we go on. Faithfulness means continuing quietly with the job we have been given, in the situation where we have been placed; not yielding to the restless desire for change. It means tending the lamp quietly for God without wondering how much longer it has got to go on..."
This faith in God by Peter Menkin Our meditation moves
to contemplation: today
let it be unto me;
so morning prayer starts.
I ponder my desire
for release from earthly pain,
find out about flesh again,
discovering the Spirit
holds other fruits: Wait
on the Lord.
Can one know, glimpse--the great yes
of vastness greater
than mountains and hills.
Creation, all being.
Spark, star of day
burning bright, sign of wonder--
the soul groans this day.
Here is a statement, as a poem, about size and mystery...
Welcome to this statement about God, his immensity and the largeness of his creation. The poem is from 2001 and an overlooked poem by me. I discovered it recently among my collection of older poems, which I had written. So liking it, here it is to be shared and hopefully appreciated.
The poem identifies in a round about way how I am a seeker and wanter of promise divine.
Seeker and doubter, wanter of Promise divine... by Peter Menkin
This continent
moves;
seas arriveas bearers
and takers.
We celebratethe earth.
Water springs
from pools deeply
hidden, refreshing
mortal companionship
with divinesimplicity.
Born, lived under,
died to be given
by the hand of God
a suspenseful dedication
in voice heard with promise:
they will never perish
sweet allowance, forgiveness
immortal. Wondering
may we live in, within
your presence. Spirit come.
A memory of when a Franciscan friend took his vows to the Third Order...
My friend was a religious kind of guy who knew his Bible very well, and read it frequently. He didn't come to grips with God in a manner that he is now meeting with Christ. If you would know something of a Franciscan, he has concern for the poor, believes in acts of Christian help, and finds time for community and prayer.
This is a lot to say about someone, but as I come to know this gentle man who was a boxer in his youth and now works as an Engineer repairing a fixing the things that make a hospital go (employed by one of the larger medical chains), you would sense that there is a genuineness and a kind of spirit about him. Perhaps I don't know how to say this well, for it is not so easy to describe.
He invited me to the celebration where he took his vows before God as a Third Order Episcopal Franciscan, about 8 years ago. So a mature man of about 50, he has come to the Franciscan order later in life. Fortunately, he has found a good deal of meaning in his living the life under his vows and matures by the living of a life called Religious. After the celebration, I wrote a poem about the afternoon event held at a retreat in the Western part of the County where we both live, near San Francisco in the County north of the City. We were out in the country for the event, held among trees down a steep path near the old chapel but hardly visible from where we dozen or so stood in a circle.
It was a lovely day, and we didn't need jackets or sweaters. This is the poem I wrote some months after the event. I have edited it from the original, again following many of the suggestions that were made in The Atlantic Monthly Writer's Workshop, where I originally posted it. The poem is one of those I'd kept quiet, as it were, since it seemed so personal and private. My friend has a copy of the earlier one and I don't think he'd mind my posting this edited version, edited by me to improve it.
Dialogue of Love (Revise)
by Peter Menkin
Inside the church there is a fire
burning in hearts, a seduction
that opens us to heaven. This is Spirit.
We respond to find Him,and will not
let Him go.Nothing
but music, voices raised
in hymn--sublime.
Can anything separate us
from the firm foundation?
I am reminded of another service,
set up by a few voices
caught with fire burning in hearts.
I recall it here.
I remember: Among the trees in the forest
Franciscans sang
while one made vows
to Christ Jesus.
Heavenly voices sent a sound,
for my friend had caught Him,
and we knew it was so.
That more than five years ago;
today the songs sang again,
among mortals taking refuge
in eternity Rock of Ages.
Set like a seal on the heart,
endeavor, be healed,
stand upheld--are among
many wordsuplifted. These are healing arts.
Church is a place of memories
and the living day.
God is spirit.
Nothing can separate us from the love,
never, no, never, no never.
TheI Am of the minutes engage
a love strong as Death: unquenchable.
Imaginary People in the imaginary Church--poems...
My file name for this small set of poems, fictitious Church attendees, reads "People for blog poems." This unusual construct leads the reader to recognize that these are imaginary Church people, people-ing my Church. Any similarities are in the mind of the reader, should you know these people.
The first poem is about a man who prays, in fact yearns for gifts from God to grant him the ability to read the scriptures, and asks for the blessing of the presence of the Holy Spirit. This means that the Holy Spirit will become a part of his life.
I found this to be happily in accord with one of the many definitions by Rowan Williams in his essay"Word and Spirit" in the book "Christian Theology," a collection of his writings. He says this: "We can recognize perhaps more clearly the disturbing confusion of theological language in the New Testament under the pressure of the figure of the crucified Messiah: we can accept more readily the breaking of certain kinds of sacral barrier, so that 'Spirit' ceases to be confined to the extraordinary but becomes a qualificantion of Christian human being." There isn't room in this entry form for more on the poems. So, here they are:
A Man Finds He Yearns for God, the Word by Peter Menkin
Shall I be personal
about it.
He said, "I have begged
the holy spirit..."Lead me in reading
the Bible."
He said, "I have implored
the spirit of truth..."Reveal to me the Word
of God in the Bible.
I yearn, was this man's
truth.to live the life--so it is called. The promise
goes,
He said, "I want to have
this language
in my heart,
in my mind,on my lips."Is this an earnestness?
A need?
He says, "yearn."God chooses us
first.
Then we go to his
call.
Devotion to the Cross...
By Peter Menkin The Kingdom of heaven
is like
a mustard seed.
So this parable
leads these two
worshipers to seek
their treasure in God.
Their emotions for the
cross, they carry,
not so evident. No
displays in public, one
wouldn't know
this couple's devotion.
The cross: thing of torture,ignomious end, horrible
death, mean judgment;
their lives embrace eventhis part of living.
Gaining a meaning from
Christ,
saying "yes" in worship.
By attendance
a statement for living
their lives.
So startling large
looms faith.The couple kneel
with bowed head.
The Doctor who asks God...
By Peter Menkin Dr. P., medical
researcher,
prays questionsto God.
On Sundays he wears
a suit, brings his family,
and sits in the same pew.
A tall man, quiet,
he wonders, queryingt
he Lord with the needs
of his searching mind.
When it comes to Church,
he knows few things
besides the catechism,
which he teaches. Most
of what he know
he learns from his talks
with God.
In the morning, he
and his wife
sing with their small
children before school,
in a circle. This
is preparation for prayer
these days.
So startling large
looms faith.
The couple kneel
with bowed head.
Neatly dressed
in tailored suit, she
takes the Eucharist:
"The blood of our Lord
Jesus Christ, Keep you
in Eternal Life.
"Quietly so, she prays,
something uniquely
fervent in her practice,
giving a dignity
and good humor shared
with others.
Church is a regular Sunday time, with Christ,
and we are together
in communion, raised
hearts by hymn and liturgy
imploring a meeting
in the spirit. She shares,
as we all, in the mystery
of the words and music.
There is work of devotion
in her life. Was she one
of those who wait in vigil
before Easter?
At home,
quietly devoted, still.
T.J. is old,
perhaps 85; she
arrives early to Church
with an attendant.
Blue eyes hopeful.
Infirm, but willing,
what brings her every
Sundayto worship?
Some of it:
can she make it,
did a demon pursue
the Doctor in her youth?
Does she wish
for everlasting life?
The answer is probably
she believes in the Triune God,
wishes to worship
long as she can
in the Church.
The old hold secrets
even to the almost so old,
making us observe
her studied presence.
Many years in following
the seasons havegone by.
T.J. continues
the journey.
