Scribblings

Washington D.C. is a city brimful of unspoken words; the whole place dances to the rhythmic humming of the wind and the water, the paintings and the sculptures, the statues and the museums all whispering verses. To the composer it speaks themes and cadences, to the choreographer pirouettes and port de bras. To the creative, do not all persons, places, and things breathe life?

For this writer, at least, the metropolis I find myself living above never fails to proffer the stuff that creative dreams are made of. So enjoy a couple of virgin lines, hastily pinned to paper whilst walking from one monument or one painting to another.

The Adoration of the Shepherds,  by Giovanni Girolamo Savoldo,
housed in the National Gallery of Art; photograph credit to Katie

The Adoration of the Shepherds

April 27, 2012

Come, warm your hands

'round the Refining Fire.

Come, worship Him with

thy shepherd's lyre.

Behold, He comes,

God and Man as One.

Behold His face with 

hearts undone.

Wonder at the myst'ry

with aged mind.

Wonder, for the Lost

this Babe can find.

The World War II Memorial in Washington; photograph credit to Katie

World War II Memorial

April 27, 2012

Words engraved forever in stone.

Faces frozen forever in bronze.

Wreaths undying,

Eagles unflying

Only the water now whispers their names.

Thousands of stars shine night and day.

Thousands of bombs overpower their grace.

Oceans are battlefields

Islands are forts

But only the water remembers their names.