Category: Poetry


By Madeleine Roberts When we are lost in the woods the sight of a signpost is a great matter. –C.S. Lewis He called it joy—  An almost-forgotten state of the spirit  Wearied by the humdrum   And rubbish held in common with the world  Dreaming in a shade of morning  That is not for the poet

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By Madeleine Roberts My soul cried out for living water, and I had grown accustomed to the thirst. In a foreign place, You meet me alone and hold me above the river. Gather me into Your fold. Hold me still in Your embrace. Let me know the peace of a day spent quietly in Your

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The Woman at the Well

By Madeleine Roberts You’ve mistaken me for   Righteousness I fear  A woman on her own  (She thinks she’s on her own)  Will wager with the devil  When she fights alone  (She thinks she fights alone)  Some words kick up  Mountains in the mind  And that’s how they’re true  You’ve mistaken me for   More than I

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photo of purple flowers

First Spring

by Madeleine Roberts From the first spring we learned enough  of mauve and purple petalstuff,  wisteria curled in peacock plumes,  and Eden’s honeysweet perfumes,  to know that dying never fits  the ground, and though the earth forgets  the sound of its revival song,  the winter cannot linger long.

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sunlight with white clouds


by Madeleine Busse Streets stained white with salt  Like bleached desert bones  Nakedly reflect cold light,  Bordering grass brown from snow now gone. On my walk to class, the sun emerges:  The wind still slices, but the sky is blue  Windows once grey glow with midmorning   Stone walls catch rays and become warm to sit

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by Madeleine Roberts When the rocks cried out for weeping  I knelt to the ground and wept.  This sphere is too great for cupped hands   like water at the fountainhead  overflowing, baptism of reflections.  I am quiet multitudes past   the sum of my fears, though the hours waver  in high tide far above the bedrock 

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Colors You tell me what you hate of me, exactly what I want to hear, Foreign feelings mold to malice as they fall on filtered ears Difference smears an ugly stain on unheard words and standpoints mostly, But maybe then…if I’d been looking closely, Would there be different colors from your view? Had I seen

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