I have replaced the spring greens with green beans and summer squash.
Now keeping everything watered and hoping for results later this month and next. Also flowers planted for the bees and butterflies and hummers are growing well. Thank you for asking .
If I can keep the eaters away, then I will have a good crop to feed us .
The best inspirations come from real life
And I am happy in my garden and feel right with God.
Beautiful alliterations and a gorgeous poem. Don't think I've ever seen a religious criticism with such poetic flair! Thank you Marpy and welcome back!
“We are all mad here,” she read aloud the scribble on the lamp-post and thought, “huh, they left the ‘e’ off, but isn’t that nice. We are all made here.”
Here, right here on this Earth
In the seas, at the mouths of rivers
In the trees and on the land.
We are all of this place.
All made here.
But we drew little black lines on maps, built fences and walls, created borders, moats sometimes and gated communities besides.
You've tapped in to the now with this one Kate. A clever play of words and transforming the prompt into your own with great success. Love it! Mad, made and madness, you've covered all aspects with this poem. Thank you and welcome back. It's wonderful to see how you use this challenge each week.
The street artists liked to sit and chew over their transgressive work over coffee as if they were at the Paris Salon. They did not see any irony in putting the tab for the Java on daddy’s credit card. Iddo was bearing the brunt of the stick this morning. He was quite proud of his latest effort. Calling out the insanity of modern man. His back still stung from hunching over to spray his pearls at knee level. Cordelia spun him on the spit. “It’s derivative, of course, banal, but its worst sin is redundancy.” Iddo knew from experience he’d regret mounting a defense, but his general cluelessness prevailed. “How so?” He waded into the fusillade. “There is no need to point out the lunacy of the species on an iron pole required to keep them from parking or driving on the sidewalk. It speaks for itself.” Even Iddo couldn’t argue with that.
Another piece as if taken from a chapter of your next novel! Every week a new piece, different setting and whole new set of characters! You’re a one kind of story teller Scott! Thank you!
“What else is new?” thought Chad when he read the carving on the lamppost. “Too many people are not happy about something.”
He turned and walked into the hardware store where he bought a paint brush and a can of gold paint. After wishing the shop keeper to have an amazing day he exited the store.
Chad stood looking at the lamppost message for quite a while before he opened the paint tin and got to work. Before too long he stood back and admired his addition to the lamppost,
Of course the words draw me in
"We are all mad here"
An urban environment sins
With no trees or shrubs sheared
Man needs nature to stay sane
Needing the Garden a basic pain
Maybe we are all mad at core
Til the Gardener comes to score
The meek and mild
God's chosen child
Love will rule soon
The end of being loon
Thank you , Writer Pilgrim!
Thank you , Scott!
Thank you , Kate!
Thank you , Rea !
Thank you Theresa! How is the gardening going by the way? I love the idea of the gardener coming to the rescue. Very symbolic act.
I have replaced the spring greens with green beans and summer squash.
Now keeping everything watered and hoping for results later this month and next. Also flowers planted for the bees and butterflies and hummers are growing well. Thank you for asking .
If I can keep the eaters away, then I will have a good crop to feed us .
The best inspirations come from real life
And I am happy in my garden and feel right with God.
Wow! Sounds amazing!
Thank you Marpy!
We’re All Mad Here: A Gentle Theology of Holy Nonsense
Of course we’re mad here.
How else do you explain people who talk to invisible God
and believe He talks back — in sunsets, in soup, in strangers?
We’re the sort who
cry over cloud formations,
name our plants after prophets,
and have theological debates with our journals.
We hoard washi tape like it’s manna.
We call our tears baptism.
We see signs in the sky and metaphors in everything.
We believe laughter is a spiritual gift,
and that dancing in the kitchen counts as praise.
(Especially barefoot. Especially with a spoon microphone.)
We believe you can paint with mustard seeds,
preach with a pie,
and translate divine truth through doodles, baking, or banjo.
Yes, we are all mad here —
but not broken-mad,
not lost-mad.
We are love-mad.
Grace-mad.
Joy-mad.
Mad enough to believe that mercy is stronger than shame.
That weakness is the starting place of wonder.
That God —
yes, God! —
chose this wild world and these wild hearts
to be His dwelling.
Holy madness.
Sacred nonsense.
Divine delight.
And oh, dear one...
you belong beautifully in it.
Permission granted to laugh with your mouth full of joy,
to cry in public like a psalmist,
and to believe that maybe, just maybe,
God put the giggle in the galaxy
just so your soul would feel less alone.
Beautiful alliterations and a gorgeous poem. Don't think I've ever seen a religious criticism with such poetic flair! Thank you Marpy and welcome back!
Did I miss any writing prompts? Being silly is such a breath of fresh air amidst my philosophy of religion study.
And why doyou remind me of someone I used to know?
I don’t know! Words and stories let us be silly or real or both.
Brilliant, Marpy! You put us all to shame! : )
We are all mad here
You have to be
If you want to survive
Madness will help
The words escape
Your aching mind
Flow onto the page
From the unfettered mind
It brings healing
If you let it free
Let shame not
Be the fear
That holds it back
A breaking soul
Needs cleansing
And release
To find its way
Back to the Self
A soothing poem emerges in these lines. Beautiful! Thank you Rea!
Thank you! I loved writing it.
“We are all mad here,” she read aloud the scribble on the lamp-post and thought, “huh, they left the ‘e’ off, but isn’t that nice. We are all made here.”
Here, right here on this Earth
In the seas, at the mouths of rivers
In the trees and on the land.
We are all of this place.
All made here.
But we drew little black lines on maps, built fences and walls, created borders, moats sometimes and gated communities besides.
So now we’re all mad here.
Enraged. Miffed. Crazed.
Threatened, beleaguered and crestfallen.
Because it’s madness.
You've tapped in to the now with this one Kate. A clever play of words and transforming the prompt into your own with great success. Love it! Mad, made and madness, you've covered all aspects with this poem. Thank you and welcome back. It's wonderful to see how you use this challenge each week.
The street artists liked to sit and chew over their transgressive work over coffee as if they were at the Paris Salon. They did not see any irony in putting the tab for the Java on daddy’s credit card. Iddo was bearing the brunt of the stick this morning. He was quite proud of his latest effort. Calling out the insanity of modern man. His back still stung from hunching over to spray his pearls at knee level. Cordelia spun him on the spit. “It’s derivative, of course, banal, but its worst sin is redundancy.” Iddo knew from experience he’d regret mounting a defense, but his general cluelessness prevailed. “How so?” He waded into the fusillade. “There is no need to point out the lunacy of the species on an iron pole required to keep them from parking or driving on the sidewalk. It speaks for itself.” Even Iddo couldn’t argue with that.
Another piece as if taken from a chapter of your next novel! Every week a new piece, different setting and whole new set of characters! You’re a one kind of story teller Scott! Thank you!
Thanks for everything. I guess I need to smush these all together to try to make something out of them!
Do you want to do that?
Maybe?
Get off the fence and decide… when you are ready! 😁
thx for encouragement!
“What else is new?” thought Chad when he read the carving on the lamppost. “Too many people are not happy about something.”
He turned and walked into the hardware store where he bought a paint brush and a can of gold paint. After wishing the shop keeper to have an amazing day he exited the store.
Chad stood looking at the lamppost message for quite a while before he opened the paint tin and got to work. Before too long he stood back and admired his addition to the lamppost,
“In God We Trust,”
I’d love to see that as a counter statement! Brilliant!!! Thank you Bill!