Pursuing Truth, Goodness, and Beauty
In Flanders fields the poppies blow Between the crosses, row on row, That mark our place; and in the sky The larks, still bravely singing, fly Scarce heard amid the guns below. We are the Dead. Short days ago We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow, Loved and were loved, and now we lie…
Bent double, like old beggars under sacks, Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge, Till on the haunting flares we turned our backs And towards our distant rest began to trudge. Men marched asleep. Many had lost their boots But limped on, blood-shod. All went lame; all blind; Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to…
It is the Solider! Not the Minister Who has given us freedom of religion. It is the Soldier, not the reporter Who has given us freedom of the press. It is the Soldier, not the poet Who has given us freedom of speech. It is the Soldier, not the campus organizer Who has given us…
With proud thanksgiving, a mother for her children,England mourns for her dead across the sea.Flesh of her flesh they were, spirit of her spirit,Fallen in the cause of the free. Solemn the drums thrill: Death august and royalSings sorrow up into immortal spheres.There is music in the midst of desolationAnd a glory that shines upon…
I leave this out in view for everyone (but mostly me) to take note of. From a certain angle, with the light reflecting off it in a certain way, you can see the blossom of an abandoned dream. It’s wilted and shriveled, yet the vibrancy of the pedals still pricks my conscience. And it taunts…
I lost and found my son this weekend on the ice He was there, and then…. he skated into a corner away from sight I imagined him in the middle of a scrum of bodies and sticks – eyes locked on the puck Somehow he looks bigger as he wheels around the net, glances past…
The accident has taken an edge off this fun. It’s just become another thing to think about. These days I carry my knee like some foreign appendage wincing and praying to myself that it doesn’t explode There’s that sharp, stabbing in my left knee that reminds me of my vulnerabilities Yet, thankfully, I can bike…
Sunday morning traction my soul skimming over the front tire nothing but a clear road and the rising sun and clarity with each breath digging into each hill warm beads of sweat drop off my forehead somewhere from above and I catch myself smiling knowing this is a start of a beautiful day Chris…
Dionysios Solomos is commonly referred to as the “national poet” of Greece. He is best known for writing the inspirational Hymn to Liberty that recounts Hellenes dream of freedom. In 1863 he wrote this poem of the bloody beginnings of the war, the patriots’ Christian character, and of the struggle. The poem is a significant legacy…
If you can keep your head when all about you Are losing theirs and blaming it on you, If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you, But make allowance for their doubting too; If you can wait and not be tired by waiting, Or being lied about, don’t deal in lies, Or being…
Another timeless, hazy day lakeside so much of so very little on my mind. The opposite shore is a curtain of beech and pines, their tips jut out against a pale blue canvass. There is no pattern; yet with every scan of the tree-line there’s a comfort in seeing how earth meets heavenly skies. I’m…
Here are a dozen that have received the greatest amount of response through the years. I am pleased my words are enjoyed. – cg The Arena: a Lens onto Life To bike these days The fiddler’s smile Almonte’s Riverview Looking to not drop the ball The Move The smell of a newborn The repeated cawing…
the hands of time are not meant to be tampered with clocks are meant to be on the wall — out of reach yesterday is yesterday; today, today; and, tomorrow is tomorrow. it is as it should be and it is easy if you accept it. frustrations are measured in minutes — unhappiness in epochs….
In a matter of months our world has skidded sideways and we are being carried away on a rather pointless ride a failed attempt to topple the regime accidentally shot down plane carrying humanitarian aid killed when a fuel lorry rigged with explosives exploded encouraged police to use “lethal force” on criminals broke a…
Incomprehensibility: stepping from room to room at the National Art Gallery Vatican Spender thru a blender Volia: Dali… spaced dimensions contorted distortions with a slice and a smile, courage and guile… from the entrails of St. Erasmus to hidden crevices of consciousness all in twenty paces and a blink. – Chris George April 1986
I never quite remember what I’m doing when I catch the black swirls out of the corner of my eye; but I have come to appreciate how crows have always demanded my attention. For as long as I can recall crows have captivated my imagination All-seeing swarthy figures flitting into my consciousness and Dark brown…
out of this whirlwind of indecision I plan to institute order. I plan to march through the chaos and plant my flag triumphantly. to struggle into, topple over, move aside with cries of victory and then peaceful songs fistful of flowers to be replanted. smiles and wisps of laughter, a dance of joy and all…
2:10 a.m. It’s a constant preoccupation: whether we’re living up to our promise Those middle-of-the-night reflective assessments of the promises you made to yourself And wondering, perhaps praying for the promise of another day Why do we celebrate those who succeed, yet we look over those who continue to try, those who continue to believe…
It’s okay to lay here and not want to open my eyes To listen to my heartbeat and feel blood pumping through my legs It’s okay to admit that I don’t what to be here At the side of the mountain, in the early pre-dawn stillness What if I got up and ran through…
Was that a warning of some sort when that crow swooped low, inches above my head to let out a shriek? Just how did I get to this spot, on this straight road leading me onto the hazy, distant horizon? There’s 12 black birds glaring down from the wire, and another solemnly sitting atop a…