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FIRST LOVE
Poetry by
Blake Steele

 

                    INDEX FOR POETRY FROM 1982 to Nov. '83

                   

                    A--------

                    AND CHRIST SHALL COME IN A FIERY SKY

                    AND THE PEOPLE WERE THE PARABLE

                    A LITTLE RUMBLE OF THE RIVER IN A SONG                

                    A PRAYER

                    A PRAYER SPOKEN LIKE A QUAKER

                    A PRODIGAL MEETS HIS LOVER

                    ARDOR

                    A WAR CRY AGAINST THE MAN OF SIN WITHIN

 

                    B---------

                    BEAMED THE MAGI FACES BRIGHT

 

                    C---------

                    CHURCH N A HOME     MARCH 1, 1983

 

                    D----------

                    DELECTABLY I BURN AWAY

 

                    G----------

                    GLORY O CHRIST TO YOUR MAGNANIMOUS NAME

                    GOD LOVES BEAUTY

                    GOD SLAYS HIS LOVERS INTO LIFE   

                    GREEN IS LIVING - GREEN THE COLOR OF HIS KINGDOM - O

 

                    H----------

                    HOLY, HOLY, HOLY, ON THE WIND

 

                    I----------

                    IF A TOAD SHOULD PLAY THE GAME OF ART

                    I HAVE WRESTLED WITH THE WIND

                    IMMACULATE CONSUMMATION

                    INTO THE KING'S CUP

                    INTO THE WHITE FLAME'S KISS

                    IT'S ALWAYS GOOD TO BE UP ON THE ALTARS AGAIN!

                                     (TO CHRISTIAN POETS)

                    I WRESTLE TOWARDS THE DEVIL'S DEATH

                    I WRITE TO YOU MY MYSTICAL LOVER

 

                    L-----------

                    LORD, MAKE ME WHITE AS THIS SHEET OF PAPER

                    LOVERS IN THE FIRMAMENT

 

                    M-----------

                    MIDNIGHT OIL BURNING

 

                    O----------

                    ON A SLOW FEAST OF REVEALINGS

                    ON GENESIS 18

                    ONE JOHN 17

                    ON ISAIAH 33:10-12

                    ONLY GOD CAN GIVE THE DEATH OF SELF

                    ON THE CHRISTIAN POETIC

                    OUR FLAWLESS CHRIST

 

                    P-----------

                    PRAISES UNTO THE SWEET AND GENTLE FLAME

 

                    S-----------

                    SALVATION

                    SECRET CHRIST IN THESE OUR WEARY DAYS

                    SHE IS THE SHULAMMITE CELESTIAL MAID

                    SOLID RIVER

                    SPIRIT OF PRAYER - SPIRIT OF PROPHECY

                    SWEET BURN

                       (INSPIRED BY ST. JOHN OF THE CROSS)

                    SWEET VISION, BURN AWAKE!

 

                    T-----------

                    THE ANOINTING

                    THE BROKEN EYE

                    THE FEARSOME CROSS FINALLY FLINGS

                    THE HIDDEN SAINT MINISTERS TO HER LORD

                    THE LION OF GOD AND HIS ARMY OF LAMBS

                    THE PURPOSES OF PORPOISES

AND ALL GOD'S FLYING PEOPLE

                    THERE IS A FIRE BORN OF STRIFE

                    THESE WORDS ARE FOR GOD'S LAMBS

                    THE SINGING HOUSE UPON THE SEA

                    THE SWEETEST MAIDENS HEAVE THEIR ALL FOR CHRIST

                    THE THOUGHTS OF GOD INTO ALL THE WORLD NOW REACH

                    THE TWENTY FIRST CENTURY AND BEYOND

                    THOSE CROWNED WITH SILENT THUNDER

                    TO FACE A FREE PERSON

                    TO KNOW WITHIN YOUR HEART THE BLESSED BROACH 

 

                    W------------

                    WHEN YOUR EYE BE SINGLE

                    WORD OF GOD ARREST MY MIND

                   

 

               Last Poem - GLORY O CHRIST TO YOUR MAGNANIMOUS NAME

 

             --------------------------------------------------------

 

                           POETRY - FIRST LOVE

                The Beal's house......(Sept 1982 - Sept 1983)

 

                   

                                       

                              A PRAYER

 

                    A pure heart shall see you God,

                    For you are pure.

                    A pure heart is simple

                    In its one intent:

                    To be alive in the reality of you;

                    In its one pure desire:

                    To be an expression

                    Of your holy nature.

                    The gift you have given us

                    --My Father and my sovereign King--

                    Is the Spirit of Holiness

                    Like a fountain of life

                    Deep in the heart.

                    Well up O waters

                    Clear and simple,

                    Bathe my deep mind

                    In the warmth of your being.

                    Trickle through me purely

                    Until I grow strong and kind,

                    Then rush through me powerfully

                    Until I am

                    As you are,

                    A gentle life-giving torrent

                    Of healing love.

 

 

 

 

 

                    BEAMED THE MAGI FACES BRIGHT

 

                    Sapphire blue in glassy beam

                    Transfixed to awe the pilgrims three,

                    Rolling on the camel's backs

                    As sailors oscillate  at sea.

 

                    Sacrosanct, so seemed the star,

                    Guiding pundits from afar;

                    Fierce the journey to drink a look

                    Of elixir smelled in Holy Book.

 

                    Primal wind within the ear

                    Inwrought knowing they were near,

                    Immanent, auric, day tide free

                    --This lisping child epiphany!

 

                    Suffuse the stable in nimbus light,

                    (Rumbling, subtle, quavered air),

                    Lucid glits of laughing white

                    Sparkled up through everywhere...

 

                    Exalted innocence they'd sought!

                    God had reached them with His thought...

                    Beamed the Magi faces bright!

                    --Angels steeped the starry night!

 

 

              

 

                     THE HIDDEN SAINT MINISTERS TO HER LORD

 

 

                    She sits in silence, then opens wide and sings,

                    till winds of God come catch her outspread wings,

                    and cast her 'neath the bright incessant sea,

                    to helpless drown, O God, in love of thee.

                   

                    

 

 

                      AND CHRIST SHALL COME IN A FIERY SKY

 

                      And Christ shall come in a fiery sky

                      And bring the yawning dawning day.

                      This fiery sky His saints shall climb

                      Into the heat of His Holy Name.

                      Yawning wide to receive His own,

                      His Holy Name shall be as one;

                      Reaping all His blood had bought.

                      They within Him did abide

                      One within His Name of Love;

                      Those who bore His heavy load

                      Abide with Him when Angels whirl

                      One with Christ in kindled air.

                      When the Kingdom finally flung

                      The million fuming Seraphim sung,

                      And Christ for all his lovers came    

                      In wild and Holy searing flame.

                  

 

 

 

 

 

 

                                      

                    A LITTLE RUMBLE OF THE RIVER IN A SONG

 

                    When the earth remembers awake

                    and returns for the sake

                    of the Lamb who is Lord,

                    adored shall be the I Am He,

                    sweet glassy sea within

                    and Seraphim singing praise

                    to raise the minds of those

                    who once closed the heart of life,

                    (now the wife of Christ to be).

                    Wholly free within that happy river,

                    its crystal waters shall shiver the soul

                    into love and righteous fear.

                    Quite near is our Lionhearted God,

                    so very near are we to dry-shod pass through

                    the murky flood to that brighter shore;

                    and more than we have sought

                    shall be the lot which will rumble  in,

                    tumbling through the riven sin

                    which weaves its heavy veils

                    of pride and lust across

                    the minds which fear the cross,

                    and make that meek and gentle Lamb

                    their wolf-toothed enemy.

 

 

 

                     LORD, MAKE ME WHITE AS THIS SHEET OF PAPER

                    

                     Lord -

                          make me white

                     as this sheet of paper,

                     modest like a little bird,

                     unadorned,

                     brown and plain,

                     sitting in a small hidden corner

                     of the house of your glory.

                     Only you, Oh Lord,

                     can bear beauty and glory

                     without ostentatious pride;

                     only you are worthy of that high state

                     of royalty which you are.

                     I would be as proud as Lucifer

                     if you did not restrain my madness.

                     Lord, help me be diminished in my eyes.

                     I'm only a common speck of dust

                     in an incredibly wondrous Universe.

                     This lyric wind I want to touch,

                     to ride on, to be -

                     is you!

                     If you should carry me for a while

                     on your Holy breath,

                     make me remember I am but dust

                     and small and menial,

                     and you are the wind,

                     and you are the largeness of the sky!

 

 

 

 

                     I WRESTLE TOWARDS THE DEVIL'S DEATH

 

                     Nail this snake unto the tree Lord,

                     Pin the serpent to the cross,

                     In his dying I am free Lord,

                     All God's gain is all his loss.

                     Secret serpent, subtle still,

                     Lurks within our soulish will;