Wednesday, November 30, 2016

Just Imagine...

A-Poem-a-Day Until Christmas

Photo credit: catherinecgilmore.com


IMAGINE

Imagine worshipping a cooing one moment, whimpering the next, born to save us, sweet baby God, lying in a trough filled with scratchy straw, needing a diaper change

Imagine worshipping a stone-kicking, frog-in-pocket, sticky-fingered, tousle-haired God, gleefully splish-splashing through mud-puddles along a rocky Nazareth road

Imagine worshipping a nose-in-the-Scroll, confident little-boy-God, teaching in the Temple, confounding elders with astonishing Truths, as His parents search for Him

Imagine worshipping a rugged, long-haired, son-of-a-carpenter adolescent God, as He learns (ironically) to skillfully select woods and deftly wield a hammer and nails

Imagine worshipping a gregarious, life-of-the-party, wedding-guest God, Who miraculously turns stone jars of purification water into jars of finest wine at Cana

Imagine worshipping a child embracing, woe pronouncing, multitude feeding, leper-cleansing God, Who walks upon water, instructs the wind and even raises the dead

Imagine worshipping a bread-breaking, wine-offering, foot-washing God, Who soon to be betrayed, beseeches His Heavenly Father, and sweats blood in an olive garden

Imagine worshipping a 30-something, blood-splattered, fist-struck, scourged and spat-upon God, laboriously lugging a cumbersome crossbeam to His Own execution

Imagine worshipping a thorn-crowned, sword-pierced, crucified-with-common-criminals sacrificial Lamb of God, as He dies sinless for the sin of the world

Imagine worshipping a resurrected three-days-after-burial God, Who appears ALIVE! Yes, ALIVE! in His own burial garden, in locked rooms and to strangers along the road

Imagine worshipping this crucified, resurrected, gloriously ascending-in-the-clouds, victorious Son of God, Who says, "Go into the world and tell them."

Tell them…
He did it for them

Imagine…

Maude Carolan

***ANNOUNCEMENT***

I'm excited to announce that I'll be reading some of my Christmas poetry at two events in December. If you are available, I hope you'll attend.

The first is the Holiday Reading, tomorrow, Thursday, December 1st, 7 p.m., at Montclair Public Library Auditorium, 50 South Fullerton Avenue, Montclair, NJ. Other featured poets are Susan Lembo Balik, R. Bremner, D.M. Dutcher, Frank Niccoletti, Elizabeth Marchitti, Ken Ronkowitz and Bob Rosenbloom. An open reading will follow. This event is hosted by Laura Boss and Maria Mazziotti Gillan.


The second event will take place Saturday, December 17th, 7 p.m., at the ANT Bookstore & Cafe, 345 Clifton Avenue, Clifton, NJ. I will be joined by two poet/friends, Pastor EJ Emerson and Sister Jane Abeln, SMIC. Holiday music will be provided by Victoria Warne, Peter DiBella, Rikki Woods and Lidya Diaz. An open mic period will follow. Come, enjoy the festive atmosphere and Christmas cookies, too! James Gwyn and Victoria Warne host this monthly evening of poetry and music.

Tuesday, November 29, 2016

Getting Ready to Bake Cookies...

A-Poem-a-Day Until Christmas

Photo credit: humblecrumble.com


A NEW RECIPE

I flip through a cookbook
and select, as I sometimes do
a recipe I’ve never tried before—
a cookie, full of aromatic spices
cinnamon, nutmeg, clove
even a pinch of pepper

I stir some dark, robust molasses
and the spices into flour
butter and sugar
then roll teaspoonsful
of the thick brown batter into balls
line them neatly in rows
on cookie sheets
and slip them in the oven

Gradually the kitchen
fills with an old, familiar fragrance
I can’t immediately identify
In a few minutes, I remove a pan
from the oven, wait for the cookies to cool
then roll each one in powdered sugar
as the recipe indicates

One taste
transports me to childhood—
This is pfeffernusse!
that classic Christmas cookie
that spicy little gem I hated
the cookies that turned to rocks
clunkers at the bottom of the cookie jar

These were the cookies Mom offered
when there was no other sweet in the house
the ones that bobbed in her coffee cup
dripping as she ate them with a spoon

Today, all those mingled spices
the dash of black pepper
are pleasingly hot upon my tongue
the sweet sugar coating
the pungent aroma
are positive proof

the taste buds of my youth
have definitely
grown up

Maude Carolan Pych

***ANNOUNCEMENT***

I'm excited to announce that I'll be reading some of my Christmas poetry at two events in December. If you are available, I hope you'll attend.

The first is the Holiday Reading, Thursday, December 1st, 7 p.m., at Montclair Public Library Auditorium, 50 South Fullerton Avenue, Montclair, NJ. Other featured poets are Susan Lembo Balik, R. Bremner, D.M. Dutcher, Frank Niccoletti, Elizabeth Marchitti, Ken Ronkowitz and Bob Rosenbloom. An open reading will follow. This event is hosted by Laura Boss and Maria Mazziotti Gillan.


The second event will take place Saturday, December 17th, 7 p.m., at the ANT Bookstore & Cafe, 345 Clifton Avenue, Clifton, NJ. I will be joined by two poet/friends, Pastor EJ Emerson and Sister Jane Abeln, SMIC. Holiday music will be provided by Victoria Warne, Peter DiBella, Rikki Woods and Lidya Diaz. An open mic period will follow. Come, enjoy the festive atmosphere and Christmas cookies, too! James Gwyn and Victoria Warne host this monthly evening of poetry and music.

Monday, November 28, 2016

I Set Up the Creche Today

Granddaughter Alana at the creche in 2015

THE CRECHE

I was a bride of twenty in the mid-sixties
decorating my home creatively and economically
by attending ceramic classes Tuesday evenings
in Bette Carozza's basement
We sat round the table and coffee cups
cleaning greenware, applying
underglazes and overglazes
talking girl talk all the while
We made cookie dishes and ashtrays
glossy green Christmas trees with snowy branches
fitted with tiny colored lights
We made rooster lamps, pitchers and bowls
piggy banks and tall German beer steins
The most ambitious of us
made chess pieces and Nativity figures

I began working on my Nativity set in 1965
took a few months off after Mom died
and picked up the last pieces
hot from Bette's old electric kiln
on Christmas Eve Day, 1966
How well I recall carefully cleaning
the fragile greenware with a sharp tool
till the seams were perfectly smooth
sanding and sponging tiny bumps
and filling pit holes
Wanting to be as authentic as possible
I applied three coats of sky blue to Mary's robe
and ruddy brown to Joseph's
Jesus' features were less sharp
than the other figures
having been cast from a mold
that had been poured too many times
I unknowingly made the flesh tones far too pale
for Middle Easterners
The magi and their regal camels
were embellished with accents of pure gold
and I glued tiny rhinestones
onto their gift offerings
even though it's likely
the wisemen didn't visit the Christ Child
until months after He was born
The shepherds' garb were given earth tones
and a staff was provided for one of them
fashioned from a birch twig
I dabbed white froth onto the lambs' coats
and gave the cow big brown patches
making it a Guernsey
a breed not likely to have grazed
the fields of Bethlehem
The long-eared donkey was painted gray
Bette's husband, ChiChi
built a fine wooden crèche
with a place on top
to hang the golden haired angel
who flourished a banner proclaiming
"Gloria in Excelsis Deo"
I installed a music box
which played "Adeste Fidelis"
and a little light bulb
and bought a bag of sweet straw
from Woolworth's

For forty-nine Christmases
I've been unpacking the big cardboard box
unwrapping the fragile figures from newspaper
and displaying them throughout the season.
Some years, when the children were young
Jesus wasn't placed in the manger
until Christmas Eve
then we all sang, "Happy Birthday"

The angel now has a chipped wing
and the Guernsey's missing a horn
but Jesus still lies sweetly in His crib
apparently not minding whether or not
I managed to get every jot and tittle
of His manger scene historically correct
He just lies sweetly there
year after year
reminding us
that significant night
long, long ago
is a forever celebration

Maude Carolan Pych


***ANNOUNCEMENT***

I'm excited to announce that I'll be reading some of my Christmas poetry at two events in December. If you are available, I hope you'll attend.

The first is the Holiday Reading, Thursday, December 1st, 7 p.m., at Montclair Public Library Auditorium, 50 South Fullerton Avenue, Montclair, NJ. Other featured poets are Susan Lembo Balik, R. Bremner, D.M. Dutcher, Frank Niccoletti, Elizabeth Marchitti, Ken Ronkowitz and Bob Rosenbloom. An open reading will follow. This event is hosted by Laura Boss and Maria Mazziotti Gillan.

The second event will take place Saturday, December 17th, 7 p.m., at the ANT Bookstore & Cafe, 345 Clifton Avenue, Clifton, NJ. I will be joined by two poet/friends, Pastor EJ Emerson and Sister Jane Abeln, SMIC. Holiday music will be provided by Victoria Warne, Peter DiBella, Rikki Woods and Lidya Diaz. An open mic period will follow. Come, enjoy the festive atmosphere and Christmas cookies, too! James Gwyn and Victoria Warne host this monthly evening of poetry and music.




Sunday, November 27, 2016

Have You Been to the Mall?

Today begins "A-Poem-a-Day Until Christmas"


Photo credit: asamatteroftaste.wordpress.com


CHRISTMAS AT THE MALL

Day after Thanksgiving, at the mall, what is this I see…
Santas sledding in the air and a tinseled Christmas tree,
a roly-poly Frosty, red-nosed Rudolph with some elves,
glittery garlands, balls and bows, bedazzling on the shelves?
The shops are alive with music, “White Christmas,” “Jingle Bells;”
there are “ho, ho, hos,” “let it snows” and cinnamony smells.

It certainly all seems festive, so cheery and so bright,
but what oh what does it have to do with that Holy night?
I cannot find a manger scene, an angel or a star,
I do not see the wisemen…wonder where the shepherds are.
I do not hear a carol or the story of the birth
of Our Savior, Jesus Christ, Who dwelled right here on Earth.

Many, it seems, have cast aside the things that matter most.
By replacing them with fairy-tales, the Treasure became lost.
My heart fills up with sorrow, and I feel the need to prod
the waning faith of restless souls who live apart from God.
We all need to remember the virgin and the Child…
Revive, O Lord, the rock of faith that’s been so long exiled. 

Maude Carolan Pych


***ANNOUNCEMENT***

I'm excited to announce that I'll be reading some of my Christmas poetry at two events in December. If you are available, I hope you'll attend.

The first is the Holiday Reading, Thursday, December 1st, 7 p.m., at Montclair Public Library Auditorium, 50 South Fullerton Avenue, Montclair, NJ. Other featured poets are Susan Lembo Balik, R. Bremner, D.M. Dutcher, Frank Niccoletti, Elizabeth Marchitti, Ken Ronkowitz and Bob Rosenbloom. An open reading will follow. This event is hosted by Laura Boss and Maria Mazziotti Gillan.

The second event will take place Saturday, December 17th, 7 p.m., at the ANT Bookstore & Cafe, 345 Clifton Avenue, Clifton, NJ. I will be joined by two poet/friends, Pastor EJ Emerson and Sister Jane Abeln, SMIC. Holiday music will be provided by Victoria Warne, Peter DiBella, Rikki Woods and Lidya Diaz. An open mic period will follow. Come, enjoy the festive atmosphere and Christmas cookies, too! James Gwyn and Victoria Warne host this monthly evening of poetry and music.

Sunday, November 20, 2016

One Thanksgiving Remembered...

Here's a Thanksgiving poem from nineteen years ago...

Photo credit: home-partners.com




THANKSGIVING CO-OPERATIVE

1997—
Leo and I hosted Thanksgiving this year at our home in Totowa
in our compact dining room, which we made smaller
through the poor planning of our home renovations
(We recently bought a smaller dining room table
and smaller, armless chairs to provide us a bit more room
to maneuver, which is a big, big help!)

Actually, this turned out to be one of our smoothest running feasts
attributable in part, no doubt, to years of experience
but even more attributable to good cooperation by all
I took a vacation day the day before
and got an early start house cleaning, then began
simmering cranberries and marinating mushrooms
Beth came in the evening. She peeled potatoes, stuffed dates
and worked on a new recipe, onions braised in honey and wine
Kristin arrived early Thanksgiving Day
and created a superb antipasto masterpiece

The night before my sister and Carrie spent making desserts
They baked pumpkin, apple and chocolate cream pies
and made a pumpkin bread, besides
I think they told the truth when they said
Uncle Ricky baked the chocolate pecan pie himself, but
I wouldn’t bet money on it. It was awesome! Awesome!
Carol said she stayed up until 2 a.m. keeping watch
over the hot pies cooling on their back deck
to make sure raccoons didn’t dive into our holiday goodies!

The escarole soup, the turkey and all the veggies were
(wonder of wonders!) ready on schedule
Rick, carved the bird and opened the wine
(once we found a corkscrew)
Leo led the blessing and we each
mentioned something we were specifically thankful for
then all partook (of more than we should have!) of course

Leo stationed himself at the sink (What a guy!)
and in between courses, Evert suggested
playing board games in the living room
There was Trivial Pursuit and Scrabble
I had to break a deadlock between my daughters
over the allowability of a hyphen, which  we determined
is not allowed since there are no Scrabble hyphen tiles. Sorry, Kristin!
Richie and Carrie are old enough now to fully take part
so there was much giggling, chatter and good-natured teasing
Everyone took turns clearing away plates
The girls helped put up the leftovers
(and made packages to take home)
Carol carved the rest of the meat off the turkey...bless her heart!

Later, I brought out the old family photo albums
and we squeezed around the dining room table
trying to figure out who was who
especially in the photos from the 20s and 30s!

Aunt Carol Harris called from Florida to say she loved everyone
Frank called twice (We missed our brother.
He was with Ana’s family, at an even bigger feast for thirty!)
We sent and received e-mails from Leo’s daughters in North Carolina
and warm thoughts sailed across the miles and sea
to his sons in Florida and Germany
We also thought about Kevin in Amsterdam
who celebrated his Thanksgiving alone at a Burger King
and Michael in California and Donna and her family
(who we hoped would join us, at least for dessert)
She was spending the holiday with family in Pennsylvania

We wished everyone could have been with us
crowded into our cozy house around our dining and kitchen tables
but those were impossible wishes...                                                   
nevertheless, we were wonderfully full and very happy
and supremely thankful for all our blessings—

Maude Carolan


Have a most blessed and scrumdelicious Thanksgiving Day.,,


 


Sunday, November 13, 2016

"Lord, Grant Me the Serenity..."

One of the most serene places I've ever visited was Weston Priory, a community of Benedictine monks, in Vermont in the 1980s. A poem about that experience follows.

Photo credit: newsperuse.com



 SERENITY

Plainsong at Vespers
sung by a handful of Episcopalian sisters
in a little convent chapel in New Jersey,
whisked me back a few decades
to a summer weekend
at Weston Priory in Vermont,
to celebrate the Feast of St. Benedict;
whisked me back to my Catholic Charismatic days,
when I was willing to travel anywhere
to participate in vibrant congregational worship.

At the priory
I witnessed what many never see,
monks dancing in a circle,
their slow, graceful sweeps
billowing white hooded frocks
in the gentle breeze.
They sang fresh, mellow songs
that were wending their way
into contemporary liturgies.

The monks invited a few of us
to join their sunrise worship.
We quietly gathered in a rude garret
with a wide many-paned window
that offered pre-dawn darkness.
Sitting upon pillows strewn on the floor,
we melded with the stillness.
One by one the Benedictines entered
with their prayer books
and sat meditatively.
After a time
they softly read Scripture,
prayed, and chanted mellifluous praise.

Suddenly, a brown field mouse
scampered among us,
flitting betwixt and between.
No one stirred at all.

Beyond the panes
blackness gave way
to the rising sun;
streams of warm glow
dissolved the morning mist
above a placid pond.
Splashes of magenta and lavender
petunias drenched in dew
emerged at water's edge.

Maude Carolan