Poetry from John Culp

Messenger

    Said when to time
                      this moment stand
      I step to stone
                          from the sand

   A challenge met admit to All
          A hill to climb as if to Stall

  But with this honest path I take
  Let Quiet mirror waters make

  In faith I ask   as if Loves Rest
In hopes to hear from Love’s Best

Temple mine    My Sun My Sky

 Warm myself   Breathe in then Sigh

I’m not made to weather  
                              within Earth’s Storm!

As seasons Pass this may Transform.

  Here.     A garden, sun morning Lifts

  Brush Palm to flower  passage Drifts

Empty my Heart   to be Refilled

  Smell the soils   where Life is tilled.

As tears well up   on Letting Go

    These eyes drift                         with feet to slow 
Then glides within from away
       An insect Bird a path to Lay
Through my ether pats the Air
To flutter up a spiral Stair.

Tilts and teeters  Velvet Fan
   Takes a flora near my hand

Face to face,  I fear great Grace
   That all my Baggage may Replace

To Walk the Talk  that I have Lent
  To fill my Sails that once were Spent.

To take attention off of me
    I see its flower as if a Tree.

But its eyes to mine Do not Relent
So with this Bird a message Sent.

      “Imagined or real this time I steal 
             So you can learn again to feel

        But Don’t Look Down
                                Don’t Look Down

        Raise your eyes
                               Reverse your frown

        The tears will come
                                   as they may
        And wet the soils
                                We’re made that way.”

     This sturdy insect, I feel its Strong Legs climb my finger. 
                  It took the Sun                   But did not linger

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