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On Leaves and Flowers and Trees
On Leaves and Flowers and Trees
On Leaves and Flowers and Trees
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On Leaves and Flowers and Trees

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On Leaves and Flowers and Trees is an inspirational, thought-provoking poetry book with poems featuring such topics as the silence of a field of barley, the infinite beauty of a fluttering butterfly, and always, the glory of God.

Fr. Ralph Wright, who is a poet of great distinction, pens works that reflect his knowledge of and respect for the masters. His images are both beautiful and startling; his metaphors perceptive, his use of rhyme natural.

His expertise lies in the unity of word and idea that is the essence of poetry. On Leaves and Flowers and Trees is one of eight books of verse by Fr. Ralph. The poetry of On Leaves and Flowers and Trees is never obscure but nevertheless demands that we return, again and again, to delight in and savor both words and subtle meanings.

On Leaves and Flowers and Trees offers a soothing escape from the pressures and turmoil of every day life.
LanguageEnglish
PublishereBookIt.com
Release dateApr 26, 2016
ISBN9780984011759
On Leaves and Flowers and Trees

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    Book preview

    On Leaves and Flowers and Trees - Father Ralph Wright

    you

    A YOUNG WILLOW FOUNTAIN OF ICE

    a young willow fountain of ice

    this morning after Matins

    against a rose January sky —

    a masterpiece of curves in crystal

    of haunting mauve beauty

    blending the essentially gentle

    giving receiving

    circle of compassion

    with the stark straight brittle

    (shortest distance between two points)

    battle line of fragile ultimata —

    the Yes or No intransigence,

    and transience,

    of ice

    angry impatience at the evil

    in every heart except our own

    that leaves a residue of empty boots

    protruding from the enfolding snow

    ABOVE MY BED

    above my bed

    hang three paintings

    of mountain flowers

    in yellow and red

    with dark green leaves

    reflected

    in the glass

    that frames them

    are the trees

    outside the window

    dark branches

    untouched by dawn light

    way back

    behind the trees

    the sky is blue

    behind the mountains

    and the sun

    crawls

    down the mountainside

    devouring like lava

    the remnants of the night

    AFRICAN VIOLET

    kept by every kind of shade

    from seeing

    face to face

    your golden Maker,

    dreaming of being

    back in the permanent gloom

    of Jungle Giants,

    you peer from regal purple

    like the moon at midnight

    and reach

    —on tiptoe—

    out for the kiss of sunlight

    AS LIGHT WITHDRAWS

    Over the snow

    ripples of gold

    touched with amber

    flow into long

    blue-grey shadows

    a few sparrows

    peck scattered sunflower seeds

    against the night

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