By Rose Dunlap
We caught up with Rose Dunlap at the end of the summer.
In an interview she described her much admired yet puzzling attitude concerning her dare-devil behavior, fearlessly jumping from rock to faraway rock at the border between parking lot and beach.
“I don’t care,” she said, shaking her blond chin-length hair.
“If I fall and break my leg, I’ll just walk around on crunches.”
Rose is a first-grader at King and very generous with her toys.
By Ilse Kramer
When I was young my wants were few
I slept and studied in a modest room
With slanted walls
I loved that place
I had a little table
And a charming chair
A narrow bed and oval mirror
Just big enough to show an oval face
The room’s best feature was the view
A rare commodity
Across the street there was a crouching chapel
Built in the time of Charles the Great
I had a friend who once brought me a bunch
Of fresh Madonna lilies
We gazed at them and said
This is the purest white there is
He kissed my lips
While sitting on the bed
And then apologized
Our wants were few
At times I thought
I heard the echo of the giggles
Of long-dead servants
Who once had occupied the room
I loved that room
It was the right place
In the universe
For me to be
Ilse Kramer is the Poet Laureate at Central Church
In the late 1960s she tried to pass for a Pembroke student
The Poets Page needs poems and stories on the following topic:
“A Place I Love”
It is time to let your imagination fly high!
Please respond to poetlaureate@centralchurch.us For publication we would also need a very brief bio and a photo.
By Susan Swain Tabor
Church bells softly chiming
I watch you this morning
So early, up so early,
Walking alone in the apple orchard
Slowly looking at the blossom-laden
Branches, branches so heavy with blooms.
You stop, smell them, your strong arm reaches up
Gently pulling them down, down towards you
To breathe in the heavenly fragrance.
Pink everywhere. From where I stand so far away,
I am lulled, drugged with the sweet perfumed air.
The rows of trees like railroad tracks
Converging into the distance. You walking away,
Further and further away, turning around, waving ,
Then disappearing into a horizon of pink.… [Read More]
By Ken Powell
Sometimes, O God, we do not know
How dehydrated we really are.
Bone-dry, depleted,
Parched of spirit.
Show us how and where
To seek your water, we pray.
Give us the will to want to drink
More deeply and fully of your Spirit.
Thank you for the well
Of your living water
Which never runs dry.
In Christ, our Lord. Amen.
The Reverend Dr. Kenneth D. Powell was the Associate Minister at Central Congregational Church from 1974 to 1979. He was the Senior Minister at Pilgrim Church in Sherborn, Mass.… [Read More]
By Ilse Kramer
I sit in the shade
Of the linden tree
Where I long ago lost my childhood
I am back
I am wearing
The ladybug dress
And I know that my cheeks
Are cardinal-red
I have pigtails
With ribbons
But they do not make me
What I once was
The old tree stands tall
And does not know me at all
I touch the trunk
And its wrinkled bark
Then I get up and pin up my hair
And put on my suit
And make up my face
And go on with my grown-up life
Ilse Kramer is the Poet Laureate of Central Congregational Church.
By Ilse Kramer
The insert slides out of my program.
I know this is not my day.
Tom politely retrieves it.
Thank you Tom.
Oops. No, not again!
I am going to get it myself.
My head is under the pew
And I miss what goes on “In the Life of the Church.”
Tom touches my shoulder:
“The envelope please.”
“Bag,” I whisper,
And he actually finds it,
Tom puts the pledge on the plate.
I know he is grinning.
I bet the usher
Is shaking his head.… [Read More]
By Rose Dunlap
Bees are good for the country,
I bet you don’t know why.
Because they make honey,
And isn’t it funny,
They also make flowers
And don’t even try.
And that’s why the bees are good for the country,
Hooray, hooray, hooray.
And do you know what else?
I learned at Sunday School
That there is this important rule:
Keep Jesus on my eyes,
And He keeps mine on His
From way up in the skies.
And that’s the way it is.
I do know nothing else.… [Read More]
By Claudia Demick
The lilies of the field
Neither sow nor spin
But
The lilies of
This pond
This watery field
Spin and twirl
Dip and move
In their
Elegant, windy dance.
No mere sprinkling of
Baptismal waters for you!
The ripples
Immerse
And baptize you
In watery
Splendor.
Claudia Demick is an Associate Minister at Central Church. She holds degrees in music and education, has a Master of Divinity, and is currently working on a Doctor of Ministry degree.
By Ilse Kramer
All stars have fallen
And the moon is lonely
My Lord
My Lord
Upend me
Pour out the bitter
I am calling you
Lonely moon
Let us be soul mates
Ilse Kramer, Central’s Poet Laureate, once visited the Grand Canyon
