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Brian McDonagh Apr 2018
Prayer, meditation, etc. of the like
Can take place in any way, actively or passively,
Without the clasped-hand protocol.
Of course, I defaulted to that outward praying indicator
When praying with family,
To have some routine in prayer.

There have been many occasions
Where I had a mental layout of the posture,
Speech, and their timing.

Nothing compares to the times, though,
Where I would get “in-over-my-head”
In trying to “ace” prayer.

There was a time
Where my mother and us three siblings
Gathered for the Rosary in the family room.
All of a sudden, I emotionally broke down during the recitation,
Hiding my tears in the bathroom.
What caused my crying episode, you may ask?
The harmonious sincerity of the other three voices
Made me question my own voice’s worth
In that moment of spiritual practice.

Another emotional occasion, which would recur more often,
Would stir in me during praying the Divine Mercy Chaplet;
Only for this prayer, I’d stow away my feelings about how others pray
Or the nerve-tingling, almost surreal sincerity I’d aurally interpret,
Considering I matured somewhat by the time I started partaking in this chaplet
With family.

Even when I wanted to pull away from praying around 3 p.m.,
I persisted anyway,
Not just because I felt “it was the right thing to do,”
But because the Divine Mercy is my mom’s favorite devotion,
And I wanted to have something to share that my mom and I did
Later into the future of life.

Talking about my feelings, well,
Released my feelings from the inner confines of my focus,
But nothing necessarily “changed,”
Nor did I want change,
I only addressed that’s where my focus had been derailing
And why prayer seemed to scare me.

No doubt, this was [and, without mindful consideration, still is]
My own problem.

I have split from wordy meditation
To adopt and adapt to reflection and silence more.
But I cannot help but wonder:
Am I really prying spiritually now?
C’mon, I am and know I am better than that.
I know there are far worse scenarios, but it's a simpler part of life, and
I'd like to be respectful of anyone else's time just as much,
whether prayer or any other means of inner rejuvenation.
Brian McDonagh Apr 2018
Each week,
How can churches
Let the S[o]/[u]n shine through?
How blessed if the particular building and soul
Have windows of their own!
"The light of the eyes rejoices the heart!"  ~Proverbs 15:30
Brian McDonagh Apr 2018
Until now, I never realized before
The beauty in the Beast
Or how Beauty is so beast!
Fun with Disney lol
Brian McDonagh Apr 2018
The Easter story,
Known by many,
Is the inverse of the fall of biblical Adam and Eve:
What fruit was eaten
Of the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil
Was reattached
On that same tree,
When Jesus was crucified,
When Jesus crucified himself,
When the tree crucified Jesus.
Jesus became the new fruit
That uneven bark could not hold for long,
Though, biblically, a tree be the Christian God’s creation,
How can the created
Hold its author?
Yet it was fulfilled
That Jesus, equally human in his Passion,
Bear the creation
That would keep his body,
But free his spirit.
For earth goes back to earth,
But, considering this story,
And that each soul is different,
Might all souls default
To their common origin hereafter?
One instance where artificial and nature intertwine.
Brian McDonagh Apr 2018
Lying in the car seat,
Head hairs smeared against the window,
Eyes shut in slumber.
The sun takes a bow
With its finale rays
That split through
Columns of trees alongside the road.
Though the inner, red-blue nervy scene of a forgotten blink
Serves as the eyes surrounding imagery,
The inner eyelids start flouncing
From a stronger pulse of red
Back to the darker internal hue.
The flashes of sun that zoom in presto tempo
Outside closed eyes,
Which can confuse dreams and dizzy focus.
As the trees make the sun blink,
Awaken to the mirages before the sun dreams.
When I close my eyes while riding in a car for however long when the sun shimmers, even if I'm in a deep sleep, I can somehow "see" the sun's brightness hit my closed eyelids and when it peers through trees, I become sort of dazed from it (not in a medically-defining way, of course).
Brian McDonagh Apr 2018
Let poetry receive honor
In every expression!
O Poetry, be the spirit of casual conversation,
The purpose for music bedecking your emotion!
O Poetry, let me find you everywhere:
Trees, people, oceans, buildings, the center of the earth,
Books and in the invisible amid the visible!
O Poetry, touch every heart
According to life events and direction,
According to imagination and creativity!
O Poetry, teach me,
Let me learn from you
And want to learn from you,
For without you,
I would be a self-poet internalized,
Letting thoughts loiter my soul,
Wandering and wondering
For a way out.
As I was begotten from a womb,
You, Poetry, as a mother, have always hewn my greater self
Out of my troubled soul.
Cheers, Ad Multos Annos, Hooray,
Here’s to Poetry!
Hooray for poetry, my abstract friend!
Brian McDonagh Apr 2018
Songs bear the light of poetry,
But, though Augustine states singing sprouts spirituality,
“De-compose” the composed
And read the words as though
Reading any other book, and feel the light of Augustine’s mantra
Heat before witnessing growths of ember.
Does not the meaning, rather than the importance, of poetry resound more at first glance
From reading in plain concentration
Than with music
That can steer attention to reaching the note
That staccatos along the textual truth,
That leads the mind in common-time land
Like a stone drumming along a still lake?
Is truth behind words important enough
To lay the foundation for impending music?
The truth sets free
Before a sweet melody!
I love me some music, but sometimes I get curious as to what I'm singing or listening to, and slurring sounds, to me, pose as a challenge to interpret the words trilled in emphasis.
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