Speak to my Heart, a poem by Peter Menkin

Friend:

Let me explain this situation, for the hour of the morning is early. There is darkness, and it is quiet as I continue my work on the new poem. I've been thinking, and wishing, that a new poem would come to me, for it is in the waiting that a premonition can be found for the inspiration of a work. Even a short work like this religious poem that expresses how the Spirit of the Lord is Upon me.

It was earlier in the day, considering that the hour of the morning of the next day is here, so it was really the evening of the day before, that I was telling a friend that the spirit of God came upon the character of the Bible with long, curly hair who said, The Spirit of the Lord is Upon Me. His name escaped my friend. But you know who I mean.

Anyway, this Epiphany in the season of Epiphany entered my mind and I became conscious of the words, which wrote themselves. So it seemed. So it seems. It was earlier today I spoke via internet with a new friend about poetry, and the inspiration that contemplation brings. I spoke about the inspiration that comes of taking Communion. I did not say that inspiration also comes of prayer. But he knows things like that, I am sure, for he teaches in College. People who go to Church know things about prayer, that some of those who don't get to do the work of attending worship have missed. Ah, so it is.

The new poem, written in the wee hours of the morning:



By Peter Menkin
January 25, 2010

I have waited on the Lord,
In the stillness of my mind.
In the music of a hymn,
In a conversation with a friend.

It is in the loveliness of a flower,
And the color of the light of day
Lost in a prayer from the prayer book,
I have waited on the Lord.

My friend, it is the pleasure of life,
The knowledge in simplicity of knowing
One another, and even the times that come looming
To the psyche of trials and fears in a tunnel
Where confinement of spirit and mind

Make the soul weep and wonder
That there is comfort in knowing you
Lord. Speak to my heart.

Audio reading of the poem by the poet is here

Friend of Man



Peter Menkin - May 21, 2005



 

For a long time
weeks,
day by day,
a month,
years...
I set out to be
friend of God.



There is darkness now,
at this hour.
The night tells me,
who chooses. Even if
I await
the morning and call
daystar, Oh, Lord,
this is a day you made,
I realize now
my temerity and ignorance.




You choose, and You are
the friend
to me, man.
Humility recognized. God is all.

 
The poet reads in audio the poem, here:

Speak to my Heart
By Peter Menkin
January 25, 2010
(written in the wee hours of the morning)

I have waited on the Lord,
In the stillness of my mind.
In the music of a hymn,
In a conversation with a friend.

It is in the loveliness of a flower,
And the color of the light of day
Lost in a prayer from the prayer book,
I have waited on the Lord.

My friend, it is the pleasure of life,
The knowledge in simplicity of knowing
One another, and even the times that come looming
To the psyche of trials and fears in a tunnel
Where confinement of spirit and mind

Make the soul weep and wonder
That there is comfort in knowing you
Lord. Speak to my heart.

Summertime Conversation in Friendship

What's this poem (?), but a conversation in summertime with experimental sentences and the idea of friendship. Yes, that's it. A poem that shows friendship, and says a little bit about conversation. I hope you find it amusing. I wrote it in 2001, and this is it from six years ago.

An admirer who read it admiringly on a poetry board then, wrote: "I admire how you mingle speech and the sharing relationship of conversation with natural elements within this piece, Peter. Surely a few more deep shades of green wouldn't hurt though?" I said I would help it along, but still no revise.



Summetime talk in color and sound...
by Peter Menkin

Speaking words that come out color,
visible
as in round circle of blue
like the clear Caribbean sea
this
summertime conversation
spoken against the clouded sky;
words about our lives
held together by sunset,
light
changing the green trees
ours
tall challenge at days end
during friendly conversations
dimensions
radiant orange enlarging
between a man and woman.
To blend with the white sky
we speak admitting mortality.