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Array
(
[sid] => 102422
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => Born Unto Us
[time] => 2005-08-01 06:43:04
[hometext] => This is a much overdue poem about the conception and birth of my son Vincent . He is seven now, so this poem's been in gestation that long, quietly coming to fruition, in its own time.
[bodytext] =>
("The Work of His Hands" 2004 by Gary B. Clark)
In the vessel of my wife,
The makings of another life
Shaped by a master potter’s hands,
The fashioning of clay
A soul in sublunary guise,
Joins in Nature’s sweet reprise
And dreams within it's amber world
Of things unknown by name
Guided by a primal course
That spells Creation’s complex verse,
An ancient song that sings the years
Brings forth its given time
Through the silence of the morn,
A kindred soul to mine is born
A single cry to herald life
Into the newborn day
Who would think a simple seed
Could mingle with the fertile bed
And yield a thing that holds us still,
To marvel at our grace
A child wrapped in swaddling clothes
Quiet now in sleep’s repose,
A life from lives that hardly lived
Until this very day
Who’s to know the path ahead
Will guide to light or steer to dread
The wishful things of every heart,
Save promise what can be
The treasure of every child,
As fragile as the world is wild
But here, pressed to a mother’s lips
Is the wellspring of our hope.
[comments] => 5
[counter] => 250
[topic] => 23
[informant] => spike
[notes] =>
[ihome] => 0
[alanguage] => english
[acomm] => 0
[haspoll] => 0
[pollID] => 0
[score] => 50
[ratings] => 10
[editpoem] => 1
[associated] =>
[topicname] => FamilyPoems
)
Born Unto Us
Contributed by
spike
on
Monday, 1st August 2005 @ 06:43:04 AM in AEST
Topic:
FamilyPoems
|
("The Work of His Hands" 2004 by Gary B. Clark)
In the vessel of my wife,
The makings of another life
Shaped by a master potter’s hands,
The fashioning of clay
A soul in sublunary guise,
Joins in Nature’s sweet reprise
And dreams within it's amber world
Of things unknown by name
Guided by a primal course
That spells Creation’s complex verse,
An ancient song that sings the years
Brings forth its given time
Through the silence of the morn,
A kindred soul to mine is born
A single cry to herald life
Into the newborn day
Who would think a simple seed
Could mingle with the fertile bed
And yield a thing that holds us still,
To marvel at our grace
A child wrapped in swaddling clothes
Quiet now in sleep’s repose,
A life from lives that hardly lived
Until this very day
Who’s to know the path ahead
Will guide to light or steer to dread
The wishful things of every heart,
Save promise what can be
The treasure of every child,
As fragile as the world is wild
But here, pressed to a mother’s lips
Is the wellspring of our hope.
Copyright ©
spike
... [
2005-08-01 06:43:04]
(Date/Time posted on
site)
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Re: Born Unto Us
(User Rating: 1 )
by vibes2go on
Monday, 1st August 2005 @ 01:47:18 PM AEST
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Info | Send
a Message)
|
| "the wellspring of our hope" ... what a gem of a line .. great work. Thanks. I'm feeling so down right now .. this was really a pick-me-up .. |
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Re: Born Unto Us
(User Rating: 1 )
by colinbaker62 on
Monday, 1st August 2005 @ 04:15:06 PM AEST
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a Message)
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Hi spike, this captures imaginatively the joys of parenthood, a conception I wholly relate to. And my youngest daughter is 7 too !
Colin |
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Re: Born Unto Us
(User Rating: 1 )
by Lionel on
Wednesday, 31st May 2006 @ 09:16:49 AM AEST
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a Message)
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| An every day miricle. God bless |
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Re: Born Unto Us
(User Rating: 1 )
by Former_Member on
Saturday, 11th October 2008 @ 07:30:22 AM AEST
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Info | Send
a Message)
|
My dear Spike, how on earth did this poem capture eight five star votes, but only warranted three comments?????
When you posted this I was on hiatus. (Gone for about six months), but I'm so extremely glad to have found it
this morning. Here, Autumn is in full swing. The glorious colours are etched against the bluest sky I've ever seen,
the birds are chatting endlessly (no doubt in search of the best course to survive the seemingly endless winter)
and the scent that drifts through the air could only be fostered from the mysteries of heaven. Though there is a
chill in the air, I've cracked my window in order to feel a connection with this-- the most magnificent time of year,
in my opinion.
Now, with that said, I thought there could not be anything to make this glorious first-day-off-on-my-long-weekend,
more beautiful. I was wrong. Your words are so touching and moving to any heart lost in the wonder and
beauty of what it truly means to be alive. And to share that life with someone and produce another life ..
well, that, to me, is one of life's greatest pleasures. There is a ceaseless wonder, as we gaze with pride at
our own immortality. New life, brings joy. It brings wonder, but mostly, I feel, it brings hope. Hope for
everything we have ever dreamed and continue to dream, you know? Some have called me an idealist. To
that I say, "So? What is so wrong with that? Without ideals, and hopes and dreams, we would cease to
exist." And I truly believe that. Thank you dear poet. Thank you for capturing in this exquisite piece about
Vincent, the very essence of all that we, as humans, dream, love and live for. I TRULY adore this line,
"A life from lives that hardly lived
Until this very day"
DAMN! Now that just sums it all up right there, doesn't it? You said a mouthful! And I know just what
you mean. ^_^
Exquisite work, poet. I'm going to be traveling into your back catalogue more often!!
Happy October to you! (I finally heard from Ken! :D)
~ Breezy
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Re: Born Unto Us
(User Rating: 1 )
by Former_Member on
Sunday, 12th October 2008 @ 03:26:53 AM AEST
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Info | Send
a Message)
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I am sorry I missed this when it was first posted but tonight I saw Breezy's post in the best poems of the day thread and just had to come and see.
Nothing ... absolutely nothing in my opinion is greater than witnessing the miracle of life, especially when that life is part of you. You have definitely captured that feeling with this write. Great job.
Also sorry my congratulations is late. Congratulations on your gift. The gift of life you can cherish.
Take care,
Tim
P.S. I've got your page bookmarked now as I have found that just going to the home page makes me miss poetry like this. Great stuff gets buried amongst the rubble. Unfortunate but true.
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