The Poet’s Eye

‘The poet’s eye….doth glance from heaven to earth, from earth to heaven….
And give to airy nothing a local habitation and a name.’
A Midsummer Night’s Dream, William Shakespeare

I would to blend,
As the bard brings down and makes plain to me,
Lofty majestic heights,
With the little white flowers on my cherry tree,
I would sing again the old canticled tales,
And follow their tracks in the dust fall of verse and rhyme.

I from earth would reach to draw the map that leads to Thee.

O God of nature,
Thou art greater still than all Thou hast made:
Beauty so nearly worthy in its warp and wool of worship.

I do not confuse light and light’s shadow,
Nor You, who stand: over, above, apart,
And yet in all you have made.

Your art is artless,
Yet rises to beget
Dream and dreams of you in me,
Draws us on tip-toed genius to create,
To scratch and imitate
Our Father’s drawings and his play.

Elliott Tepper  2010

A poem is like a rescue note

A poem is like a rescue note
Scribbled on scraps and sealed,
Then locked in time’s sand worn bottle
And cast beneath the stars
To ride Heaven’s tides in hopes of finding life.

O Wind set my crafting a ship
In search of other ears,
To let someone know
That here I hear,
That on this little stranded spot
There stands another man
In like search for hearts
That long for life’s sure center and clear edges.

But how, how?
If I know not my own bearings and longitude,
If latitude escapes me,
How could they find me,
Return my call?

Would they seek me out?
Could they return on the tide,
Read the Wind’s former roads of yesterday,
To wander backward to where my hand penned its plea
And set a bobbing my sealed craft upon the sea?

My best hope:
My words will find their voice,
Will quicken hearts and minds,
That my life will touch someone’s life—
And each will think and some will say:

‘See, I am not alone in this place.
There are two of us, at least,
Who think this way.’

Elliott Tepper 2010