Cutiful

There is beauty
That widens the eyes
And paralyzes the face
Distanced by splendor and awe.

Then there is beauty
That widens the smile
And wrinkles the eyes
Drawn with laughter and joy.

©2010 Bob Mason

I thought I heard our little Missy say ‘cutiful’ today, when we were in our car in front of Harbor Freight Tools. I was mistaken, but nonetheless the appropriate association was obvious.

Ring (September 11)

Ring . . . ring . . . ring.
The bell resonates at the frequency of my soul,
Somehow shaking loose
          The tears I had managed to control.
Liberty, sweet liberty vibrates through the cold,
Melting and crumbling the walls that had tried to hold,
Emotions that trembled and then rolled
Down my cheek.

©2001 Bob Mason
 

I was moved and inspired as I heard a bell ringing on my radio, as NPR tried to express what was happening--it was either September 11, 2001 or the day after. I had watched live on television as the towers crumbled, numb and in shock. The ring of the bell released what I was feeling.

Where Strength Lies

“Go and change the world,” said Jesus,
Didn’t He?
“So we must we will,” said Peter,
Pitiably
Twelve to One hundred and fifty to make things new -
        sea change wrought by chosen few.

The task looms huge before them.
        - an empire ruled by might and war.
        - an empire fraught with sin and more.
“Clearly to succeed, we must meet might with might!”
“Clearly, to proceed, we must enforce the right!”
        With sword - for sword rules in this awful age,
        With men empow’red with righteous rage.

Stealing softly on the wind,
        A different voice comes pressing in.
Echoes ring in Peter’s ear.
        A truth once heard advances near.

                If my kingdom were of this world,
                        then would my servants fight. (John 18:36)
                All they that take the sword
                        shall perish with the sword. (Mt. 26:52)

“How then, Lord, must your cause prevail?”
“How then stand, as foes assail?”

                Not by might, nor by power, but by my Spirit,
                         saith the Lord of hosts. (Zech. 4:6)

All other strength
                               Lies.

©1994 Bob Mason

Clam Beach Sabbath

I don’t have access to the kind of math
that would make my finances work.
Perhaps I can’t afford it.

Despite the posture of my upside-down house,
I can’t seem to shake any “change” out of it.

But still, here I am
at the edge of the vast Pacific,
Where the lowering sun casts shadows of mountains
from molehills,
And my children dance with the sea,
And everything is alright.

©2009 Bob Mason

The picture is from the Sabbath day that inspired this poem.

Coffman's Recipe (for a church)

Mix lumbermen and refugees
Carpenters and redwood trees
Moment after moment seized
This is what you get.

Mix gingham smocks and home cooked meals
Faith and purpose forged in steel
Strudels pies potato peels
This is what you get.

Mix God and preacher on his knees
Hand that works and eye that sees
Solid heart that full believes
This is what you get.

Brick after brick
Board after board
Coin after coin
Bill after bill

Hour after hour

Day after day

Week after week . . .

And this is what you get.

©2008 Bob Mason

I wrote this on the occasion of the 50th anniversary of the dedication of the Fortuna Seventh-day Adventist Church where I grew up. I was asked to preach and included this in my sermon. The Coffman of the title is Pastor Carl Coffman who was the pastor who oversaw the building of this beautiful church a few years before I was born. I am pleased to have him as my Facebook friend.

The Secret of Unhappiness

Inward, inward, inward
Go inward, under-your-skinward.
Never look up
Don’t kiss and make up
Stare into your half-empty cup.

But do make up
What you must have
Can’t have
Should have
What you’ve got to have
To be OK . . . or better.

Give it a rest
Don’t look how you’re blessed,
Or unhappiness
Might elude you.

©2010 Bob Mason

Apocalypse

What do you think of the Apocalypse?
Foretold,
Retold,
Untold,
Bought and sold.

Terrored words of purchased lips;
Words of old,
Words of gold,
Sometimes cold,
Always bold.

Could they be true?
You wished you knew,
As hot air blew,
And terror flew,
Through
Your heart.

I believe they are true;
No matter how bizarre
Or far
From where you are.

But terror does not shake my heart;
I'll face down the fiery dart,
Because I know the author,
And He loves me.

© 1994, 2009 Bob Mason