I could not prove the Years had feet
Last week I discovered this delightful poem by Emily Dickinson. She was about 32 years old when she wrote it. It’s full of wisdom and a touch of self-directed humor. Read the rest of this entry »
Telling the Truth
connecting the dots of my life
Tag: Poetry
January 5, 2016
Ties that Bind | Dear Readers
When I think about ties that bind me to the largest number of other people, PTSD wins hands down. Post Traumatic Stress Disorder affects every human being in this world, directly or indirectly, Read the rest of this entry »
October 2, 2015
The Lady of Shalott and I | Story #2
Painting by John William Waterhouse (1849-1917), Tate Gallery, London
In 1983 I began teaching theology at a seminary in the Philadelphia area. Though my office was small, it had a window and built-in bookshelves on almost every wall. The other wall slanted in at the top–taking up precious space and head-room. Read the rest of this entry »
July 12, 2015
Alas, my tent! | From an Old Soul
Announcement for my Dear Readers: This is the first of a series. No, I haven’t given up my other series (Early Marriage and whatever comes next). I’m just searching for a sane way of planning my blogging life. So beginning today, I’ll post regular (not daily) comments on George MacDonald’s sonnets for the month of July, as found in his Diary of an Old Soul. Read the rest of this entry »
July 4, 2015
Scrub and Sing
Here’s a happy follow-up to yesterday’s post. I’m guessing Amy Carmichael and I are not of similar temperaments when it comes to heavy daily burdens. Maybe you can identify with this poem better than I can! Read the rest of this entry »
June 10, 2015
the human shadow
Mature Dawn Redwood at Longwood Gardens
Yesterday we returned to Longwood Gardens. The photo above is from a stand of towering old trees. George MacDonald’s sonnet for the day had already caught my eye. Here it is, with my take on it below. Read the rest of this entry »
March 26, 2015
I want to be a meadow garden
Meadow Garden at Longwood
It wasn’t an evening sky that started it. It was waking up in the morning, thinking about a wonderful conversation we had recently with a friend from our seminary days.
I teared up a bit, thinking about how much had changed since the 1970s, Read the rest of this entry »
January 28, 2015
“. . .Thou art thou, and here am I.”
I’m surprised at feelings I’ve had since I began writing Dear Dad letters. Sometimes I’m afraid I’m trying to get something from Dad that he can’t give me. I don’t think I am. I definitely feel I’m ‘out there,’ in the driver’s seat without a finished roadmap, uncertain where this will lead.
Most surprising, though, Read the rest of this entry »
November 20, 2014
It’s been an age
It’s been an age since I first met you—
You there, looking back at me
Three score years plus eleven to be exact
You haven’t changed a bit, they say
You and I know better Read the rest of this entry »
November 20, 2014
gnarled scarred misshapen
gnarled scarred misshapen
trunk stands tall serene exposed
mirror of a soul
* * *
© Elouise Renich Fraser, 19 November 2014
Photo credit: DAFraser, November 2014
Longwood Meadow Garden, Forest Edge
Telling the Truth 