April is all about poetry – Vol. 1, no. 16

Since this is the month for poetry, this writer extended an invitation to Chicago poets to submit their original written works of art if they so desired.  The power of the internet and social media is almost beyond belief, especially for someone who did not grow up with all of this wonderful technology, but saw the genesis of it all.  But I digress to be sure.  Apparently, the invitation made its way to the United Kingdom and so I present to my readers a true master of poetical mindscapes, Howard Trill.  Enjoy!




‘The Voice’

(Song of Solomon chapter 4)
The Lord brought me to pasture land and had me lay upon the ground. I was just one amongst a flock that from a mountain had tumbled down.
In this place I now lay still with crown upon my head. I was strong like Samson who could pull a temple to it’s knees. Yet I was in the presence of my Lord, whose voice was a gentle summers breeze. His breath brushed my hair and moved my crown aside. Then I heard.
You are beautiful my love. I see your gentle eyes at peace like a dove.
I was a stilled child cradled by its mother. His voice rhythmically washed every chamber of my heart – and I had no wish to share the one I loved with another.
Stay eat with me, your teeth are clean, taste pure milk my sustaining word.
I did not speak, for I was spoken too, and there was no desire to search for meaning, words were clear and clean like a pure spring. I had no reason to question truth, I heard his word, forceful, breaking over me as a roar, turbulent to those that do not believe, but for me welcome rain, fear relinquished and defeated pain.
Your lips are clean with my blood, and as he spoke he touched. His finger gently stroked my lips, I received a burning coal.
Praise you, I whispered, your voice has made me whole
Upon your neck I put faith, He said, so that you always keep sight of your Head.
I was transfixed, a higher place reached, a state within a dream, my feet and legs were heavy led.
I smiled innocently, knowing that I would never want to lose this mighty stag.
In Him, safety found, I sat in a place long reserved, a seat on a rocky crag.
You are beautiful, He spoke and covered me in myrrh and as I lay by his side, his voice had tamed my desires and I had no thought of flight.
Your breasts are beautiful, love and faith, perfection and light.
We stayed together, but time appeared short, each moment I wanted to trap and lock away.
I had much to ask, but before a word had past my lips, he gave me His hand and asked if I would come to a place where we could lay.
Upon the tops of mountains we strode. He took me to where Amana sprung from deep beneath the ground, I had no doubt of his love here in this place where a mighty river surged. His hand held mind,
You have touched my heart with one glance of your eye, He said, and my love for you is as pure as the snow upon the top of Senir.
I closed my eyes and we danced to the sanctuary on the peak of Hermon.
I heard the beasts growl from the slopes below.
You are safe my love, yet still a garden closed. Bring forth the water, then the streams flowed touching golden land, entwining tightly around His word,
Through trees and meadow and past orange groves, then beyond my sight, one river flowed. And along its banks spice and healing leaves were sowed.
If I be bold, I said to the one I loved, please let your Spirit blow. Breathe upon my garden. May we smell and sip the sweat spice of new wine.
Again he touched my face, even before you ask, I know.
Then my Lord was gone.
By Howard Trill  © 2012
 Reading, United Kingdom
Owner of ‘The Mandrake Path’


If you are a Christian poet in the Chicago area, at least for the month of April, this writer would like to make available to other poets a place to exhibit some of your poems. Please only submit your own original poems, since you can give permission to publish your work. You can contact this writer at poetess755@gmail.com. Your poems must glorify the Lord God, or His Son, the Lord Jesus Christ or the Word of God. God Bless you in your endeavors.





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