poems

Aura photo of Rev. Louis by
K's Aura Photography,
270-769-5813
[email protected]

Listed in the National
Body-Mind-Spirit
Directory

Writings -- POEMS
by C. S. Louis

The Changing of the Seasons

I stand upon the ridge:
Below,
The ghostly limbs of spectral sycamores,
With rusty clumps of leaves
Still clinging to selected branches,
Stand out in high relief
Against the bare, rain-blackened trunks
Of locust, thorn, and elm;
Sun-bright patches of late-turning maple
Punctuate the silent, somber forest.
Above,
Wind-sculpted columns of clouds,
Pink and pewter in the setting sun,
March out of the west across a pale blue sky;
A twittering battalion of south-flying grackles
Weaves and turns, ebbing and swelling,
Like a noisy, sparkling wave.
Behind,
Sable cattails twitch nervously in the breeze,
Rustling among the khaki reeds
At the edge of a frost-rimmed pool,
Its snakes and frogs and turtles
Gone safely to ground for the winter.
I have come to this place
To contemplate the changing of the seasons;
To contemplate the changes in myself:
Ahead,
A steep and stony path
Leads outside this place
And back to my point of origin.

-- C. S. Louis (c) 2007 All Rights Reserved

Rev. C. S. Louis' Bio

Rev. Louis' Calendar

Rev. Louis' Workshops

Rev. Louis' Writings

Email Rev. Louis

Bitter Harvest

A gnarled and ancient maple
Stands solitary sentinel
In the middle of a barren field,
Its leaves shining saffron
In the reddening rays
Of the almost-winter sun.
I loved a farmer once,
His face, hands (and heart)
As brown and hard as walnuts.
He loved his land like nothing else:
In all his acres,
There was no room for me.
And now the skeletal cornstalks,
Brittle and dry (as I am feeling),
Rattle like yellowed bones;
The desiccated bean rows
Hiss and scratch like angry cats
In the cold Autumn wind,
Precursor to the frigid months ahead.
Perhaps my heart will thaw in Spring.

--C. S. Louis (c) 2007 All Rights Reserved

I Prayed Once For Snow

I prayed once for snow:
Bare feet on cold floorboards, tip-toed,
Nose flat against the chilly window,
Making foggy clouds climb the pane,
I gazed out across the dark landscape
And up into the quiet silver night,
Imploring my childhood god
For a soft morning shroud.
I slept fitfully,
Both craving and fearing my demand;
And awoke,
Grinning with delight
That my plea had been heard.
Anxious to escape the drudgery of school,
I quickly downed my oatmeal and hot cocoa,
And bundled into boots, and scarves, and
mittens,
And dragged my battered but beloved sled
Through formidable drifts,
To challenge my favorite hill
To a contest of bravery and endurance.
Chin lifted to the frosty wind,
I plummeted, exhilarated,
Down the modest slope
(Which seemed a mountain to my child's eyes),
Screaming with laughter,
To plunge, headlong
Into stinging piles of frozen powder.
Cheeks flushed red with cold and excitement,
I struggled back up for another run,
Stopping only when my clothes,
Sodden with the effects of my adventure,
Were too uncomfortable to ignore.
Then, extremities tingling,
I trudged home again,
Warm kitchen blasting like a furnace,
To drink more cocoa
(This time, with marshmallows!).
I had enjoyed the day more
For the knowledge I'd created it,
And I reveled in that certainty.
So sure was I
That my prayer, alone, had brought the snow,
No mere parent could convince me,
Upon hearing of the lives the blizzard had
claimed,
That I had not made that happen, too.
I cried myself to sleep that night,
Refusing all comfort,
And have never dared to pray for snow again.

--C. S. Louis (c) 2007 All Rights Reserved

The Slow Spiral Downward
(A Note To My Friend)

I was soaring high,
Dipping low,
Somersaulting
Through my life and time;
You were my safety net,
Steady, sure,
And always there
To assuage my fear of falling.
You held onto me
Even when
I hated you for doing it.
You pardoned me
My frailties and foibles,
My failures.
Why have we tumbled
Out of time,
The slow spiral downward?
Where are you
Now that I am strong?
Has my strength repelled you?
Was it only in my weakness
That you were strong enough
To love me?
I miss you so,
And wonder what I've done
To earn your unforgiveness:
Will you forgive me
In this lifetime,
Or make me tread the winds
Of my guilty skies,
Icy, airless,
Until I abandon you?

--C. S. Louis (c) 2007 All Rights Reserved