God Free Verse Poems

Callimachus English translations

For Gail White

To the Cup-Bearer
by Callimachus
translation by Michael R. Burch

Decant the wine then toast "To Diokles!" Nor does the beautiful boy Achelous touch...

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These are my English translations of poems and epigrams by the ancient Greek poet Callimachus aka Kallimachos. His surviving poems come from various sources including...

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The question hangs, a whisper so light and thin, 
When God is weary, deep within, 
All his strength deployed, from all the strain, 
Who will...

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A treasured gift hangs on the wall near the kitchen table
Like something brave, solid, embracing, and stable. 
It's the portrait of the heads of Christ...

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James was dead Peter was chained 
and people prayed
Peter was a prisoner for his faith 
Released by an angel a miracle
I believe 
Truth is scarce...

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Wings have been lost in the abyss of time, stumps of memories remain suspended on the horizon,
shadows dancing before your wandering eyes, you cover them...

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Line of inquiry:

“as we passed her she did wilt
which caused in us sense of guilt
since our stance perhaps did cause
to put her heart’s joy on...

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Sabbath is after six days
as believers, we enter into that rhythm
A promise of entering His rest
Shabbat Shalom learning to rest

I am a vessel, I'm seeking
The...

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A LITANY OF TODAY'S FROTHING POETIC WAVES

GLORY BE TO GOD

Healing thanks to God,
sun risings, and sun settings;
Each day, a blessing:-

OF PARADISE LOST

Apple fell from tree,
Teasing...

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From one vantage point,
Autumn came and departed too soon.
It appears that we rushed through Winter;
It seems that we are springing through Spring.

I hope that doesn't...

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A late March thundershower floats toward me
Like a plucked flower
Handed over on a walk to a lover
With a smile

Down this afternoon path
That breezes past
Spring-born ponds
Erupting
Of...

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I like to walk barefoot more and more,
I love the touch of nature
It's not always what I see around,
That subtle, invisible is from God
The feeling...

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A poetry virgin... that was me
going through a purple patch,
a dismal dark period in life
Desperately needing an outlet
to focus on instead of the now...
this trying...

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Let’s not make a scene—
not in front of the metaphor-curious.
We owe them a semblance
of shared syllabic stability.

You take Tuesdays,
I’ll keep weekends and the enjambments.
Let’s split...

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I never asked you to feed us,
Or give us gold from your chest.
It wasn’t your job — I knew that,
Our father carried that test.

But not...

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