Christ in Post-Christian Culture
I haven't written a lot of poems in the last year. My most prolific time was in the late 1990s. I had just gone through an unexpected break up with a girl I was nuts about. She was an art director and a writer. I was working in rights, clearances and intellectual property at the …
Continue reading "Referee, The Poem"
I've been less than connected to others during much of my life. I often felt dark inside. Unable to receive light. To use it in any way. Such as to cast meaning and clarity on a situation. To show me a direction. To give sight where it doesn't seem to exist. It's a singularly lonely …
Today was the funeral of my father, Charles. The viewing was the hardest part. It was bad enough seeing dad lying in his hospital bed after he passed away. It was worse seeing him in his coffin. He was always a larger-than-life figure. He could fix anything. He gave sound advice. He loved people unconditionally. …
Continue reading "Saying Goodbye"
Some time late in the 1990s, there was a very bad accident in a city park in Allentown, PA. Five young men were crammed in to a two-door car traveling approximately 47 miles an hour down a park road that had a posted speed limit of 15 miles per hour. As the car approached a …
Leaves of gold and yellow, An evening sky of red; A whisper of silver, A renegade cloud overhead; Smell of rain or showers linger As a squirrel eats his dinner; Giggles of playing youngsters Almost loud enough to quash my dread. Today alone, Yesterday together; A love so strong, Now gone dead. © 1998 Steven …
Continue reading "A Renegade Cloud"
I found some of my older poems just today. They were in a plastic tote, along with some diary entries, an old half-finished screenplay, and some story ideas and notes. The following is a poem I wrote in 1998 while struggling with active alcoholism and marijuana use. You can see how hopeless I felt back …
Continue reading "I, The Sinner"
Blackness came to replace the light, Caverns echoed back the fright; Young children yelled with all their might, Parents’ lips held secrets tight; Who could end the evil plight Of innocent lives Torn through with spite; Their soft, sweet dreams Now black as night. © 1999 Steven Barto
That hatred you have for everyone, that global anger, Is going to kill you. It doesn't matter how justified you are, or how wrong the other person is. You can fume and cuss and scream, complain and blame everything on others, But it's just going to eat you alive. You can get pissed off at …
What makes someone a poet? Is it all about rhyming and sounding flowery? Maybe it has to do with making profound statements or painting a picture with words. Does it involve moving people to tears or creating an emotional surge? Could it be all of the above? Yes, it could. Some of my favorite poems …
Continue reading "What Is A Poet?"
Unfortunately, my father passed away at 5:07 p.m. on December 9, 2014. Probably about twelve hours after my last post. I expressed my thoughts about losing him, as he was not expected to live longer than a few days. Instead, he passed away later in the day on December 9th. This was not a surprise …
Continue reading "How Do You Go Forward?"
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"And the Word became flesh and made his dwelling among us, and we saw his glory!" John 1:14
Christ in Post-Christian Culture
'So if the Son sets you free, you will be free indeed.' John 8:36
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Living by Faith
revelations and reflections from my daily devotion
The Power of Story
The Literary Magazine of the Osterhout Free Library
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Lucidly in shadows. Poetry from a hand that writes misty.
Living the hope that comes from Christ
The Accidental Apologist 