Poem: Sons of David

Sons of David

 Sons of David, their father’s own

Wise beyond years, (Jedediah) Solomon

Heir to your father’s throne.

 

Lusty young Amnon

Fell for his sister’s own

Body and raped her once

 

But oh, brother Absalon

Would have vengeance won

By killing rapist brother Amnon

 

And shame, his own dearth

That he would have sex in exhibition

With concubines of his father’s

 

And working to dethrone

His father, his own

Who always loved his son.

 

Of the other’s less is known

Of these, King David’s sons.

Perhaps their quiet escaped the dons

 

Or drowned in the wisdom

Of their brother, King Solomon,

Or the tears of their sister’s shame.

 

Shame should have come upon

David, King in Jerusalem

Yet he was doted on,

 

A man after God’s own

Heart, for through him grace was shown

To all of us, everyone

 

Forgiving rapist Amnon

And ever enraged Absalon

And all too wise Solomon.

 

Through David God’s own

Was given, yes, his son,

To forgive us, everyone.

 February 2022

About this poem: David is a perplexing character from the bible, at least for me. This poem addresses that. It also explains my reasoning for believing there is no real black or white to people or our faith. "There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy." 

 

Rachel's Request of Laban

 

Rachel’s Request of Laban

 Years in bareness have I spent

and suffered more to be wed

to the love of my life.

 

You’ll forgive me father if here

I sit because the blood of mine

now flows as a woman.

 

You have taught me oh so much

throughout the years but here I sit

on this old saddlebag

 

from which, you know, I cannot move

for, as a woman, it’s my time.

But deeds and creeds you seek

 

of fear my husband dear did take

perchance from you and, if you find

them hidden in a tent,

 

that person will by agreement

suffer death. I waited fourteen

years to be with this man

 

suff’ring sister’s indignity

and now, my father, you, I think

should know the time of woman

 

because from you I’ve learned so much.

Yet now I cannot move from here

because of womanhood.

 

Pray father now, entrust in me

the wealth of your own children dear

for whom I’ll always weep

 

yet one of them will save us all

if now you let me stay right here

because of womanhood.

 

December 2021

About this poem: I have read Genesis over and over and I never tire of it, but I have always felt each character had a backstory to tell. This poem is an attempt at the backstory of Rachel, Jacob's second (but first in love) wife. When they left her father Laban to go out on their own, Rachel had stolen some of her father's idols unbeknownst to Jacob. Jacob told Laban he could kill anyone who had them because he was sure no one had. Rachel was why he worked so long for Laban in the first place, so if he had lost her... Anyway, she pretended she was on her period and sat on some saddle bags while her father searched her tent, excusing herself from getting up. This is a poem from her point of view with a few biblical Rachel things thrown in (like the New Testament slaughter of the innocents and Rachel weeping for her children). These stories resonate through our culture, but sometimes the characters need some rounding out to make them real to us now. That's what I like to do with some of my biblical poems like this.

For Valentine's Day

He walks in all cocky

Like a professional athlete

Who just won an Olympic Gold.

His bow and arrow are slung awry

Over his shoulder looking like an arrogant Senior

Thinking his looks will get him a diploma.

 

(Put a shirt on, Jackass.)

 

But before I can say that to him

He’s nocked an arrow and aimed it

Right at my chest

And BAM!

That arrow slams my heart.

An ache emanates through

My entire being

Shattering glass pain

Clouding my vision blood red

Throbbing with every beat of my

Heart. And the bastard’s gone

Leaving me here, screaming in pain

While your rouged lips

Laugh at me in disdain.

 

February 2018

 

Poem: Potatoes and School

Potatoes and School

 Grandpa said

Potatoes reminded him of school.

 

Potatoes and school.

 

He said he’d wake

Nearly freezing

Kindle a fire and

Throw potatoes on.

 

Going to school

He carried them

To warm his hands.

To warm his feet

He ran.

 

He said by noontime

Those potatoes almost froze,

Said he ate a lot

Of cold potatoes for lunch.

 

Funny how we’re sitting here

Eating funeral potatoes

Thinking about grandpa,

Thinking about school.

I wonder if he’d warm up

With these potatoes

And us?

 

What I really wonder

Is why he ran away.

 

September 2020