Sunday, September 12, 2021

Twenty Years Later...

Here's a poem I wrote shortly after 9/11/01...

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Written in the wake of the September 11, 2001, Attack on America


We’ve been told God doesn’t belong in our schools

He doesn’t belong in public buildings

not in the town square, not at baseball games

We may not pray to Him in our classrooms

His Name has been shushed from graduations

Our witness at work has been silenced

Crèches and menorahs have been removed from government properties

and replaced with roly-poly Santas, tinseled trees and dreidels

Christmas and Hanukkah have been neutered

with wishes of “season’s greetings,” “happy holidays”

We’ve been closeted by the separation of church and state

in this free country founded as a safe haven for religious freedom


but when those 767s flew into those magnificent towers, September 11th

when those great towers imploded, when thousands died tragically

and shockwaves of grief and terror riveted our planet

suddenly our churches filled

God’s name arose boldly on banners all across the land

It was posted, plastered, scrawled and spoken

prayed to by the President, our leaders, newsmen

It appeared on school message boards

bumper stickers, lapel pins, buttons

It was superimposed upon flag decals glued to our windowpanes

It was emblazoned upon our chests on patriotic T-shirts

and it appeared over and over and over on subway prayer walls

along with Scotch taped photos of those who were missing

Thousands proclaimed it loud and clear

at candlelight vigils and a prayer service at Yankee Stadium

and we all sang it with tears

“God Bless America,” our truer anthem


If we’ve been complacent; if we’ve swept Him aside

packed Him away in attic trunks

with things we thought we wouldn’t need anymore

He’s waiting with arms outstretched

love streaming from His eyes

and we need Him to heal our shattered hearts


Oh, let’s keep the “God Bless” in our “America”

and Americans, let us “Bless God”

O let us never let go of Him again


Maude Carolan 

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Sunday, September 5, 2021

The Shofar's About to Sound...

L'Shanah Tovah! 

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I reach for my sweater against the chill

The crickets are chittering

Sunflowers have shed their golden petals

and a few green tomatoes remain

abandoned on the vines

It’s September—

the High Holy Days are approaching


Soon I will gather with michpocah

in the parking lot outside Beth Israel

We will observe Rosh Hoshanna

Rabbi Jonathan will sound

his kudu shofar beneath the full moon—

Tekiah—Shevarim—Teruah—Tekiah Gedolah


Sages tell us the first day of the month of Tishri

is the day God created the world

the world He so loved

the world He gave His only Son to save

The trumpeting reminds me

to reflect upon my relationship

with this God of my salvation

reminds me, humbly, to prepare for Yom Kippur


So I ponder the Day of Atonement

ponder the High Priest entering the Holy of Holies

sprinkling the blood of the sacrifice upon the Mercy Seat

ponder the sacrificed goat and the scapegoat

ponder forgiveness

ponder my sins, atoned for by Yeshua

ponder my High Priest, the Perfect Sacrifice

Who offered His Very Own Blood

on my behalf


Next will be Sukkot

the Feast of Tabernacles—

From inside a leafy sukkah

I’ll be reminded of the sojourn of God’s people

to the Promised Land

reminded of my very own sojourn

toward God’s promise—

eternal life with Him

in Heaven


Maude Carolan Pych

"Behold the Lamb...poetically!" 

by Maude Carolan Pych

is available online

at and Barnes & Noble

Sunday, August 29, 2021

My Sunflower Garden

One more sunflower poem for you...

Photo by Maude



My sunflower garden is sheer delight

filling my backyard with beams of light

It’s where I find time to commune with God

amid gigantic blessings, sprung from sod


They sway in the breeze and make me smile

as I sit meditative, for awhile

Each luminous face is haloed gold

atop stalks like soldiers, straight and bold


They outshine all other blooms around

Each sunburst the buzzing bees surround

and butterflies come a-winging, too

I saw some Monarchs alight a few


After days of dazzle, they’ll bow their heads

Grown weary, their golden petals shed

presenting a somber prayerful stance

inspiring intercessions as I glance


I watch bees draw nectar, soon the birds

will feast upon their seeds, as spurred

This is nature’s way; how life goes on

It’s the Master plan we depend upon


I believe my garden is God’s gift

to empower my spirit to uplift

So much depends on these golden kings—

Beauty, sustenance…eternal things!


Maude Carolan Pych

Would you like to read more of my poems? I have two books available, "Behold the Lamb...poetically!" and "Wonderhoods." For ordering information, go to

Sunday, August 22, 2021

Sensational Sunflowers!


Photo by Maude



For weeks now

I’ve been driving by a house

on Totowa Road

that holds no distinction

except for a vibrant flower garden

in front and around the side


What catches my glance

and causes me to smile

are perhaps thirty or forty

gigantic golden sunflowers

shouting for attention


Today I printed

eight sunflower poems

folded them neatly

and placed them in an envelope

decorated with a scribbled sketch

of a solitary sunflower

and a note saying

I love them, too!

and left the envelope

by the front door

of the house I often pass


Sometimes I leave bereavement poems

on a table at a neighborhood mausoleum

or give copies of my chapbook

The Widow’s Song

to newly widowed friends

Sometimes I mail poems

about butterflies

to people who love them

and regularly post poems on my blog

about God’s love and His mercy

with the hope

of reaching those

who need encouragement


When the one who gifted me

with a garden full of sunbursts

opens the door today

I hope my simple poems

generate a smile


Maude Carolan Pych

Books of Poetry by Maude Carolan Pych

Sunday, August 15, 2021

It's Sunflower Time of Year

Photo by Maude



Sunflowers make me smile—

because they’re absolutely outrageous!

They’re taller than a beanstalk

and way, way larger than a flower should be


They easily pass me in height

and keep right on growing

Each stately stalk and its sturdy leaves

go up, up, up like a ladder to Heaven

and when that flower bursts into bloom

it lights up my whole backyard

like the sun’s come down for a visit

All the shaggy petals are golden sunrays

shining upon me, while

the bees buzz with delight

sucking in nectar


I think God made sunflowers

to cause us to look up and take notice

of His handiwork and His generosity


His Love, too! The bigness of it!

His magnificent magnanimousness!


Oh! It’s certainly no wonder—

Whenever I see sunflowers

they always, always, always make me smile J


Maude Carolan Pych 

Would you like to read more of Maude's poetry?

Her book about the Birth, Death & Resurrection of Jesus,

"Behold the Lamb...poetically!"

is available online at &

For more poems, videos & information, visit her website:

Sunday, August 8, 2021

"The Watchman"

Here's one of my earliest poems

but the words seem more timely now than ever...

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Perhaps the Mashiach[1]

is on His way,


to lead us

to the Promised Land.

There have been signs

of His coming

that haven’t been reported

in the papers

or radio or TV newscasts.


I’m a watchman.

I wait.

I prepare,

knowing not

the Day or the Hour.

I plant my rose bush

at the gate,


rinse my bowl,


trying to live

His Great Command

as best I can.


Perhaps He’ll come


It’s possible.


Maude Carolan

[1] Mashiach is Hebrew for Messiah

More of Maude's poems can be found online

to read or listen to on her website and blog.

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Sunday, August 1, 2021

Two Ocean Grove Poems...


Bob & I just returned home after four delightful days at The Lilligaard B&B in Ocean Grove, NJ. While there I left a stack of decorative copies of my poem, "Camp Meeting Week" at the Bishop Janes Tabernacle and also at the 150-year-old B&B.

Photo by Maude



On Ocean Grove beach

a Cross atop a sand dune

is a seagull’s perch


Maude Carolan Pych



9 a.m. Sunday—

Contemporary worship. Boardwalk Pavilion, Ocean Grove

This is where we worship with snare drums and guitars

funky drama and spontaneous praise dance on the boards

facing sand and spray and rising sun

This is where we lift our hands and shout "Hallelujah!"

louder than the rousing rhythmic praise

of the waves crashing in our midst

This is where families come in tees and tank tops

cut-off denim, wrinkly cotton shorts

bare feet, sneakers, flip-flops

It's where we fan ourselves with song-sheets

chug from Poland Spring bottles

and flip through the pages of our Bibles

It's where we greet strangers, unabashedly

with "Praise the Lord!" and hugs and exit

faces shining with Moses-glow


10:30 a.m. Sunday—

Classic worship. Great Auditorium, Ocean Grove

I walk briskly from the Boardwalk Pavilion

(with my Moses-glow) to the old Methodist edifice

with its prominent Cross facing the Atlantic

This is where thousands gather

facing a purpose spelled out in lights:

Holiness to the Lord—So be ye holy

This is where worshipers arrive in crisp pressed cotton

and wrinkle-free polyester, strap sandals, pumps and pearls

where we rise and sing on key, hymns by Wesley and Crosby

where we utter printed responses by rote and in unison

Here, to the accompaniment of a historic pipe organ

we hear a traditional choir sing traditional hymns

and accomplished tenors and sopranos

and some of the greatest preachers on earth

do magnificently what they have been magnificently trained to do

This is where we pray quietly, reverently, solemnly

hands folded in our laps, as 100 silver-haired ushers

process prominently with collection baskets

wearing white slacks, dark jackets and red ties

with white carnations pinned to their lapels

This is where Gordon Turk, the organist

presents a resounding recessional

as we nod at one other warmly

and walk out edified into a balmy afternoon


Maude Carolan Pych

Looking for a book to read this summer? 

Maude's book, "Behold the Lamb...poetically!"

is available online at Amazon & Barnes & Noble.