Who can believe what we have heard?
A hanged man died and deified;
Isn’t this story a bit absurd?
The whole world saw him crucified.
The hanged man died and deified
Belonged to us as one of our own;
The whole world saw him crucified.
A man as common as a stone
Belonged to us as one of our own.
Bore dignity beyond the skies,
This man as common as a stone.
We could not see through his disguise
His dignity beyond the skies.
Enmeshed, begrimed in politics,
We could not see by his disguise
An excellence that would bollix
The powers meshed in politics.
The holy struggle to revive
An excellence that should bollix
those who rule and now deprive
The holy struggling to revive.
They'll stand at last to fill their lungs.
Those who rule will be deprived
but will praise God with splintered tongues.
They'll also stand and fill their lungs.
And no one dares call it absurd;
Their praising God with splintered tongues.
Who would believe what we have heard?
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I am a Conventual Franciscan priest living at Mount Saint Francis, IN. Since my ordination in 1975 I've served in Ohio, Wisconsin, Minnesota, Louisiana and Kentucky, plus a brief time in Melbourne Australia.
At this time I am one of several chaplains at the Veterans Administration Hospital in Louisville, KY.
Catholics believe a word became flesh and lived among us. How could I not love words?
I might say I love poetry but poetry is something like computers. I may know how to use one computer program but I don’t understand all computer programs. Likewise I may enjoy one poem; I might take delight in the poetry of one author, but I don’t love all poems, nor do I like all poets.
I enjoy the sound of words. I love their multiple meanings and diverse functions. I love the subtlety of words. They are powerful, fascinating, eminently useful and essentially spiritual. They are breath shaped into sound.
How many millennia passed before the human creature discovered the principle of a sentence? It is as perfect as pi. It must be something sprung from Plato’s ideal world of forms.
Poetry explores the meaning of words and sentences, stretching these entirely human constructs until they speak divinely, even until they break open, revealing the spirit that forms them.
Poems I have written.
Poetic forms and subjects
- Ballad (2)
- Decasyllabic rhyming couplets (1)
- Double Dactyl (1)
- Ecology (2)
- Franciscan Crown (4)
- Free Verse (7)
- haiku series (1)
- Heroic Couplets (1)
- Ode (3)
- Pantoum (8)
- Personal (3)
- Philosophical (9)
- prose poem (1)
- Religion (4)
- Scripture (12)
- Sestina (10)
- Short Story (1)
- Sonnet (16)
- Terza Rima (1)
- The Vow of Chastity (9)
- Villanelle (2)
- Wreath (6)
Poems by Ken
About the author
I am a Conventual Franciscan priest living at Mount Saint Francis, IN. Since my ordination in 1975 I've served in Ohio, Wisconsin, Minnesota, Louisiana and Kentucky, plus a brief time in Melbourne Australia.
At this time I am one of several chaplains at the Veterans Administration Hospital in Louisville, KY.
Catholics believe a word became flesh and lived among us. How could I not love words?
I might say I love poetry but poetry is something like computers. I may know how to use one computer program but I don’t understand all computer programs. Likewise I may enjoy one poem; I might take delight in the poetry of one author, but I don’t love all poems, nor do I like all poets.
I enjoy the sound of words. I love their multiple meanings and diverse functions. I love the subtlety of words. They are powerful, fascinating, eminently useful and essentially spiritual. They are breath shaped into sound.
How many millennia passed before the human creature discovered the principle of a sentence? It is as perfect as pi. It must be something sprung from Plato’s ideal world of forms.
Poetry explores the meaning of words and sentences, stretching these entirely human constructs until they speak divinely, even until they break open, revealing the spirit that forms them.
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