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Topic: Poetry
Found 126 resources that match your criteria.
Reclaiming the Garden
By: Priscilla Lasmarias Kelso | July 31, 2006
IThe gate, recalcitrant, begins to yield As I push away the rusted chain And the brambles that sting my skin. I know this place. I, a woman, shut out from this garden, Now reclaim this piece of ground, These pieces of memory in need of new tending. No more the interloper Or intruder, I give [...]
Luke 11:27's Blessed Ones
By: Ginger O’Neil | April 30, 2006
The woman in the crowd Expressed, In loud assertiveness, A woman’s honor came From womb and breast. But Jesus didn’t think That barren females Had no worth.
Called by Name
By: Ann R. Palmerton | March 5, 2006
Early on the first day of the week, while it was still dark, I came to the tomb. I came alone in that time before dawn, when fear and doubt get the best of us, and when God seems farthest away.
Jesus wants us to Live
By: Rachel Gillespie Lee | March 5, 2006
Jesus can give us life that death can’t erase. He has the power to do that no matter what the obstacles are that bind us. Jesus raised Lazarus from the dead to help us understand the power of God, to help us see that God has control over every kind of death.
From Victim to Victor
By: Guest Author | January 31, 2006
I’m a one-breasted woman, I’m Christ’s Amazon, I’m a one-breasted woman, I’m ready to fight. I’m a one-breasted woman, my ax is at my side. I’m a one-breasted woman, I keep attacking the enemy.
Beautiful Female
By: Jessica Emily Buzzell | October 31, 2005
Femininity is a giftStraight from the Lord Once turned wrong Now restored The cross gives my hair A new way to shine The cross gives my back A new and flexible spine The cross gives my body A new way to be preserved The cross gives femininity As a way to praise the Lord
Wind
By: Jessica Emily Buzzell | October 31, 2005
Life is like the windIt comes and it goes You You have a choice to make:How will you live When life Is like the wind
Pinning Down
By: Jill Peláez Baumgartner | July 31, 2005
My names, a drunkenness of vowels,l’s, ümlauts, a mélange of ancestries, diacritics, an unreasonable stretch of signature, this seven-syllable amalgam, this roughhouse of families, this farrago of Spanish, English, German, this gallimaufry of tree gardener, medieval shrew, Pelayo’s son, this rummage sale of dactyl and anapest.
Grace
By: Jill Peláez Baumgartner | July 31, 2005
Is it the transparencyand lift of air? Is it release as when the pebble flings out of the slingshot or the tethered dog suddenly is without lead?
On His Seventieth Birthday
By: Jill Peláez Baumgartner | July 31, 2005
On the morningof your seventieth birthday you say you feel that sick tug of mortality, the reminder that your roots are spring-thin in this damp earth, the reminder that green shoots must break seed shells in the stiff push toward light, the path dank and unfamiliar.