This Month's Theme

A Look Back

Looking back at a few modern poems from past Poetry Deep Themes

This Month's Featured Poems
"A Darkening Cell" by Sorrow De LaCroix

"Living Hope" by Jim Cox
"November Resurrection" by Jim Cox

"petals" by Thomas Courtney
"survivor" by Heather Dearmon
"The Descent of Giants" by Heather Dearmon

View Previous Themes
Last month's theme: Carols--The Poetry of Christmas
Theme Archive

A Darkening Cell
by Sorrow De LaCroix

Maybe you will come again
When it is not so cold,and
The leaves become green like
They are reliving a dream.
Winter is not over and it
Is cold in my cell.I wish
I could go back to my youth
When I didn't care about the
Truth.If you come here in the
Summer would you mind telling
Me of your journeys? Did you
Ever find the face of Christ,
Or did you become the anti-Christ?
I still live in my cell where
The only season is winter.

Living Hope
by Jim Cox

You could almost feel it in the
Pre-dawn stillness.
A low-keyed throbbing like an
Aging refrigerator motor
Humming in the darkness.

Combat tested muscles tensed
Tightly gripping sheathed blades

A faint grinding noise
Quickly populated the darkness with
Of imaginary enemies.

Pounding__________Beating Hearts
Flailed against cages of bone
As the massive granite stone
Began moving__________faster.

Suddenly________a soothing brightness
Spilled out of the empty tomb
Over the battle-hardened soldiers
Like crystal clear water
From a faucet
Bathing a child's skinned knee.

A voice__________
Like the sound of wind chimes said,

"He is not here, but is risen____AS HE SAID...."

I am
He that
lives, and was
I am alive

Bible Ref --
Matthew 27:62, 66
Luke 24:1-7
Revelation 1:18

View this poem with images here

Just in case you'ld like to look up any of those Bible References: Online Searchable Bible

November Resurrection
by Jim Cox

Almost heard___________________________



of decaying leaves

with crackly, bronze-colored fingers.

Inspirational Poetry, by Jim Cox

Just Words: Poetry by Jim Cox

by Thomas Courtney

and so
after gaining all the world
we shall lose each other?

we failed to heed the admonition:
putting our stores in earthly treasures
coveting our bodies and our minds
losing the spirit we shared?

when we had vowed
in the depths of our hearts
in the holy sanctuary
and before God and family
we shall part our company?

and become again
what we once were
not so very long ago-
strangers only now-
once lovers and dreamers?

we spoke the words
repeated so often before:
you and i for all eternity?
you and i-
we need another word for "we"
we are not "we" as once together
we are only you and i for time

perhaps like petals
tossed before the winds
of the same flower
we bid the stem farewell
cast adrift and lost
amidst the tumbling rains

the petals fall
and find an easy rest
they will some day find the soil rich and sweet
becoming part of it themselves
once again

and even as the flower
finally melts into the sun
the old stalk turns
and falls to the side
the roots wither and turn to dust,

another flower will come
and new petals will spring forth
there when the elements are right
as surely and inevitably they must be

as the meadow is large
and the sky is ever full

Poetry by Thomas Courtney

by Heather Dearmon

luminous and white,
i walk like a roman
in my sterile gown, my loose tunic,
pacing the stale, gray corridors
-holding its ghastly attendants,
-who seem to stiffen at my presence.

surely i do not belong here.
surely these dreams of
saltwater and sea urchins,
the submerged cabins
overgrown with kelp
and ash-blue faces,
-they cannot be real.

the land dwellers gawk
and surround me like gulls,
and push in my ears
their witnessed account:

i escaped the death-mouth,
the violent lung-filler,
who stole the rest
but choked up me,
to reside at the edge
of the angry sea,
who confided her depths
in front of me:

these, these are mine.

The Descent of Giants
by Heather Dearmon

Every eye beheld the tragedy.

The thunder crashed upon every ear.

The giant brothers, dark and solemn,
stand erect no more.

We remain in the wake
of the resonating sound,

of this fatal blow, this gaping wound,

that only a giant God can heal.

Heather's Little Poems

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