THEME 5: Poetry 2024

CHESS AND LIFE

I play chess with far less skill
than consummate skill, so I be.
Unschooled, self-taught, no books
No Grand Master, for sure, that’s me.
But I know why I play, and it’s not for the thrill of the kill.
The planning, the chasing, the grand overtaking…until
The word is declared, and it’s time to tally the score.
Is that all chess is: like a knife one drops on the floor?

Captains of industry rise
And just as surely they fall, this be true.
Great kings, some queens, odd pawns move great forces, not I.
Is it chess that they ply? Is it eye for an eye, then goodbye?
More planning and chasing and grand subjugating…until
The take is tallied, then “Tally ho!” off for more.
Is that all life is: endless trips to a bottomless store?

My friend comes over to play.
He takes time to talk, every day.
Game on, some laughs, a yawn
Words of wisdom for me.
Is it chess I’m learning?
True purpose and yearning… now be still.
Lift eyes to the hills; the Word is the heart of all love.
And that’s all life is: our chance to love others and find One who loves via dove.

Jim Davis

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FIVE LOAVES AND TWO FISHES

For a harvest of wheat and barley, both nurtured by rains and the sun,
And the netting of freshwater fishes, in reaches where such life is spun,
A young mother whispers her prayer, for the meal and her only child:
Her son, as he stirs in late slumber, and awakens to morning mild.

The rabbi will be by the lakeside, and a throng of thousands will hear,
That Almighty is healing His people and the time long foretold now draws
near.
There is guilt and great fear in high places, where greed and power employ.
Will Almighty watch over this youngest and shelter from harm her boy?

The heat of five loaves slowly rises, whilst two fish first simmer then fry,
And the sun barely clears the horizon, commencing its arc through the sky.
The food, so lovingly handled, gently laid in its wrappings to rest.
As the mist of night’s morning envelops,
And the shroud with pure dew is blessed.

Her love’s gift a simple beginning, on a seemingly most common day.
Her son’s gift, so freely shared, will herald God’s love on display.
The question exquisitely answered, executed for all to see.
As on that day on the hillside, by a sunlit inland sea.

Jim Davis

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THE INTERVIEW

You there lad, a moment of your time, if you would kindly share.
The sun low, the people of the day now on their way.
I saw you. I, too, ate my fill of your seemingly sparse fare.
You, so close, you surely overheard some whispered words of prayer.

Sir, I heard. Yet whisper from that man I did not hear.
His voice was strong.  He offered, loud and firm, his thanks and praise.
The bread broke, the fish’s flesh then torn: he had no fear.
Of disbelief and ridicule or scorn, there was none this day: that all were filled was clear.

Why you, boy? Your meager serving slight, as for one so young.
Who called you?  Dared you bring an offering of no worthwhile extent?
Was there mirth?  Or puzzlement, at least? Or words that stung,
From those chosen men, who placed you there in view of him upon whose words hunger hung?

Sir, I heard one’s call. The need so beckoned me that I did bring,
Food prepared by my mother’s love for me, from God’s good gifts.
The rabbi smiled – knowing – as loaves and fish he lifted high, that both our hearts did sing.
Food consumed, the surplus gathered up, the truth of God’s full measure of His love for all did surely ring.

Jim Davis

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