Sunday, July 31, 2022

The Boardwalk Pavilion

I'm excited to tell you that I'll be sharing two poems from my book, "Behold the Lamb...poetically!" at "The Love of God" women's seminar, Saturday, August 6th, at Beth Israel Worship Center, Wayne, NJ. Admission is free. Advance registration is required.


 Here's another Ocean Grove poem...

Ocean Grove Beach Pavilion



This glorious summer Sunday morning—


We’re drawn eastward

from north, south, and west

by the magnetic pull

of God’s love-force


Drawn, to the old wooden pavilion

to the Atlantic, the Jersey shore

to the boards at God’s Square Mile—

Ocean Grove. Drawn


wearing khaki and denim

tees and tanks

sundresses, flip-flops

carrying water bottles

carrying Bibles

fanning ourselves

with song sheets


We fill the benches

then spill over

into the periphery

onto folding chairs, lawn chairs

beach blankets. Some stand

Some look for shade


It’s 80-plus and breezy

The sky, clear

The sea glistens

Waves slap the shore

merrily. We’re merry


Vacationers stroll past

Some peer; some stop

some smile; some don’t

Bikers pedal by

joggers jog


Hymnsong; guitar-strum

Son-smiles; praise dance

heart-moves; Kidz church



Agape flows outward



Sea mist rises like incense

upward, Heavenward

toward the One



We bask in the warmth

of His smile


of His warm, sunshiny love


Maude Carolan Pych


"Behold the Lamb...poetically!"

by Maude Carolan Pych

is available online at Amazon, Barnes & Noble, etc.

Sunday, July 24, 2022

The Monarchs are Endangered

 I read online that the western monarch butterflies are at risk of extinction. The following snippet was posted on Google two days ago: "Its population has dropped by an estimated 99.9 percent over the past 40 years, from ten million in the 1980s to 1,914 in 2021. Experts are concerned that not enough butterflies remain to keep the population alive."

I wrote the following poem in the early 1990s...

Image credit:

 There Used To Be Butterflies in New Jersey


I remember the day the monarchs held court on Cupsaw Beach

And filled the air with tangerine profusion

As they soared and danced with natural choreography.


There used to be butterflies in New Jersey.

They haven’t left completely,

But I see fewer every year

And miss their lilting frivolity, color, and grace.


Today, I strolled a lane in South Carolina,

And was gifted with more species than I know,

The sum greater than I’ve seen in years.

Praise God, they simply filled my heart with joy

As they danced with gay abandon among the wildflowers.

They flitted against the sky with petal-soft wings

As resplendent in hew as the blooms

They landed momentarily upon, then sprang

Into fanciful Fantasia pirouettes.


Maude Carolan

Books of poetry by Maude Carolan Pych...

For information:


Sunday, July 17, 2022

Ocean Grove Vacation

 Let me introduce you

to my favorite spot at the Jersey Shore...

Tent houses, Ocean Grove, New Jersey
Photo credit:



An hour and a world away

is a charming place we love to stay,

where time stands still a little while,

in fact, some call it, “God’s Square Mile.”


Our spiritual retreat vacation

at this gem within our nation

is where we find more than we seek,

at Ocean Grove, Camp Meeting Week.


The Great Auditorium’s surrounded

by quaint tent houses, abounded

by flower gardens, every hue;

coral, magenta, lavender blue.


Great preachers come from far and near,

expectant pilgrims come to hear

the preaching and angelic choir

as the great pipe organ sends its fire


of resounding music through the air,

inviting all who will to prayer.

All this takes place beside the sea

in a grove of sweet tranquility.


Stroll tented lanes in ocean breeze,

past tabernacle, B & Bs;

Victorian landmarks give a show

of “painted ladies” row on row.


Visit eateries, little stores

and take the garden trolley tour.

This Jersey shore town gives to each

respite, chapels, sandy beach,


a quiet boardwalk and pavilion,

where perhaps, more than a million

over the years have stopped and heard

Gospel concerts and God’s good Word.


So come, find more than you may seek

at Ocean Grove, Camp Meeting Week.


Maude Carolan Pych

Great Auditorium, Ocean Grove, NJ

Photo credit:


Want to read more poems?


"Behold the Lamb...poetically!"

by Maude Carolan Pych

is available online at Amazon, Barnes & Noble, etc.

Sunday, July 10, 2022

Enjoy the Butterflies...


is the time to even enjoy bugs...

ladybugs...fireflies...buzzing bees...beautiful butterflies!



Once I was a caterpillar, dwelling upon the earth,

crawling along day by day, adept at feigning mirth.

I only knew the earthy life; I thought that that was it;

I took what terra firma gave, the pleasures and the grit.

There was no beauty in me.  No one ever looked here twice,

Few cared if I were evil; no one knew if I were nice.

I was only concerned with myself, what the earth could give,

yet, inside I was sensing a far better way to live.

Instinct led me to spin a thread and weave a neat cocoon;

I became a living mummy, wrapped tight within my tomb.

What was happening to me?  I tried to kick and shout,

“Help me!  Open up this thing!  I want to get right out!”

No one heard and I was powerless, so I went to sleep,

not knowing what was ahead of me, feeling something deep.

I don’t know how much time went by within my tiny tomb

but sensed that I was being changed, like one inside a womb.

Finally, instinct worked in me.  There was a sudden urge

to break out of my chrysalis and from the dark emerge.

Somehow, I then received the strength to burst my being free;

Alas, the golden Light broke through and there was a new me!

I took some time to understand, some time to wonder why

then I just shook myself a bit and I began to fly!

And `lo, I was so beautiful, and `lo, I saw the sun...

Oh, after living on the earth, soaring was great fun!

A wretched worm was I no more; I knew that fact was true,

I was reborn and I became a creation wholly new!

A butterfly!  A butterfly!  I received my wings,

glorious splendors of the Heavens, all the higher things.

All old things have passed away; they’ll never come again;

I’ve set my mind on things above, on these I will attend.

Now, even when I swoop to earth and walk upon the ground,

I’ll never be a worm again...I’m Butterfly...glory bound!

Praise God for metamorphosis, it’s by His loving grace

that I’m a new creation now, and I shall see His Face.


Maude Carolan


is also the time to enjoy a book!

Here are two by Maude...

For ordering information, go to

Sunday, July 3, 2022

Happy 4th of July, America!

I love posting this poem every Independence Day...

It's a great memory of my beloved late uncle.


My uncle, Frederick Leo Harris, July 4, 1984


In memory of Frederick Leo Harris


Uncle Fred was an unassuming kind of guy—

a master crane operator who ran

a long-necked crane for Canger, Inc.

He never boasted about it

didn’t speak of the special skills required

or dangers or the scope

of projects he was working on


nor did we even think to ask

except perhaps to inquire, conversationally

about where he was working

It could have been Jersey

or New York or sometimes Pennsylvania

He just put on his work clothes each morning

put in his eight hours, and came home

to their three-room apartment

in Paterson, every night for dinner


On the 4th of July in 1984

Uncle Fred was the engineer

chosen to remove the original torch

from the hand of Lady Liberty


That particular Independence Day

marked the start of restorations

on the Statue of Liberty, with completion

targeted for her 100th birthday, in 1986


I don’t recall our uncle telling us

about it in advance. If he had

we undoubtedly would’ve been there

with our young children

to witness his feat


He probably dressed for work that morning

just like every other day

had his coffee, drove into the city

got himself to Liberty Island

and quietly set about doing 

exactly what a master crane operator

would be expected to do


There was a special ceremony

that Independence Day

with pomp and circumstance

a brass band and dignitaries—


and in the cab of the tall crane

hunched over the controls

sat our Uncle Fred, confidently

doing what needed to be done

to expertly bring down the old torch


The honor bestowed upon him

was completely lost on our Aunt Carol—

She was at home and unhappy

because he had to work on the holiday

and therefore they had to miss out

on normal 4th of July festivities

like a parade or a cook-out or fireworks

When a news reporter called

to ask her some questions

she let him know exactly how she felt

and what she said was directly quoted

in the newspaper the following day


It wasn’t until she saw a picture of him

standing next to the old torch

on the front page of the Paterson News

that she realized the illustrious way

he spent the 4th. Suddenly

she became overcome with pride

and fussed over him to no end

even though, I’m certain, Uncle Fred

could easily have done without

anybody fussing over him, at all


The original torch is on permanent display

in the base of the Statue of Liberty

with a plaque telling of its removal

and the statue’s restoration that followed

It includes no mention of our uncle’s name

which, surely, would not have bothered him


but we know, and we’re proud

and this poem is written to keep

that special memory of him alive


Maude Carolan Pych

More poetry by Maude Carolan Pych...

For information about ordering the above books

go to