A Poetic Prayer of Joy: Our Father

In Poetry, Prayer, Spiritual Formation by BizgaineyLeave a Comment

I normally post poems via a different website. I am, however, going to begin to include my poems – as well as the poetic expressions of others (both modern and historical pieces) – as a part of this site.

I believe we will never disrupt our normal routines if we don’t take the time to reflect on and enjoy the artistic expression of poetry.

You will find my latest work, Our Father, on my site.  I hope the piece enriches your life and encourages you as you go!  If …
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Merry Christmas!! A Poem from Longfellow

In Christmas, Poetry by BizgaineyLeave a Comment

Christmas Bells Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, 1807 – 1882

I heard the bells on Christmas Day Their old, familiar carols play,     And wild and sweet     The words repeat Of peace on earth, good-will to men! And thought how, as the day had come, The belfries of all Christendom     Had rolled along     The unbroken song Of peace on earth, good-will to men! Till ringing, singing on its way, The world revolved from night to day,     A voice, a chime,     A chant sublime Of peace on earth, good-will to men! Then from each…
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A Poem: Ascension Day, by Malcolm Guite

In Poetry, Uncategorized by BizgaineyLeave a Comment

Ascension Day, Malcolm Guite

We saw his light break through the cloud of glory Whilst we were rooted still in time and place As earth became a part of Heaven’s story And heaven opened to his human face. We saw him go and yet we were not parted He took us with him to the heart of things The heart that broke for all the broken-hearted Is whole and Heaven-centred now, and sings, Sings in the strength that rises out of weakness, Sings through the clouds that veil him from …
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Word/Quote of the Week — Surrender and Emily Dickinson

In Poetry, WORD OF THE WEEK by Bizgainey1 Comment

 SURRENDER

A poem by Emily Dickinson

Doubt me, my dim companion!

Why, God would be content

With but a fraction of the love

Poured thee without a stint.

The whole of me, forever,

What more the woman can, —

Say quick, that I may dower thee

With last delight I own!

It cannot be my spirit,

For that was thine before;

I ceded all of dust I knew, —

What opulence the more

Had I, a humble maiden,

Whose farthest of degree

Was that she might,

Some distant heaven,

Dwell …
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