Cry, Uncle​


uncle
Scrooge am I 
Sitting alone in the
    chamber of my heart
Hearing the voice of merry 
    meant for me apart
and
Along the streets of snow
Little did I know
    that rejoicing 
    was mine for the taking
Song was wine for the   
making
    doubt upon worry that
    opening the door would warm
    not ice my soul
that stepping out would not 
    harm my heart from the toll 
of crying 
uncle


             Balance​


A round about a square
rolls over and over again
with the obtuse gestures
of an angel with no wings
I find myself two times too
going over and over the equation
making balance the only answer
to reshaping the inevitable
forms of God


Holy Weak


Judas hanging on a tree
thirty pieces and three
times Peter too
denied the True
Son of God let it pass
let us choose Barabbas
but no we say deliver us won
Jesus Christ God's only Son

dark and rent the temple is
three lonely sent are surely His
to weep and mend a broken how
can answer 

Heis Arisenow


Love


N'even the mightiest book
    (closed or open)
The unwritten poem or
The flip side of Beethoven
    can e'er replace
Breathing the same breath
Thinking one another's or
    (least not)
Touching the soul of each


Alana


very blue once singer
of one night songs
stands now alone sitting
at the loom of despair
weaving the cloak of success
with fine points and 
artificial threads of a past
too soon to remember


          Lord of the Dance

And so said me, you think of He,
    the Man is God by chance
You think His name is Son of God
    not Leader of the Dance

The sun and moon the planets too
    were molded by His reign
The sky, the stars, the brooks He strew
    abroad the great domain

He fashioned you, He built anew
    the whole creation o'er
The creatures wild, the oceans blue
    was His, not mine or your

No Son of God, or chance of time
    Or Darwin, Freud or Blake
For us made all this glory shine 
    Man kind and gentle made 

The Son is none than He, I AM
     Incarnate in the flesh
The Real, the mighty, and the Lamb 
    of that most lowly creche  

So bring Him in and wrap Him up
    in our most loving arms
and hold Him close and near at heart
    forever free from harms  

'Tis job for you and me alike
    to watch, protect and care
The Lord of Dance, the God of All
    by love and fast and prayer




    ​

Thomas Luter

Poems 4

www.tluter.net