Friday, December 26, 2014

Saint Stephen

Saint Stephen by Luis de Morales

Saint Stephen

Stephen’s gaze
Pierced through
To heaven
Through the haze

© December 25, 2014, Robbie Pruitt

Tuesday, December 23, 2014

The Face of God

It was a pleasure reading this poem, "The Face of God", at Quisqueya Christian School's annual Staff Christmas Party. Tara Thorn signed the poem along with the reading. This is a later recording of the poem, along with Hebrews 1:1-4, which was recorded at home the following weekend.

The Face of God

Once we walked in the loving gaze
Of the face of God
In Eden’s beauty paradise
On heavenly earth; on heavenly sod
Our transgressions made us outcasts
And dark winds blew us,
To the East, it threw us
The wind withered the land
The fallen outnumbered the sand
None could rest, not kings in their riches
Nor the poor with outstretched hand . . .
And the prophets cried out
The priests offered sacrifice and praise with shout,
And the kings waged war and decreed
Until it was clear, all people bleed
And silence deafened the people in need
Then the starry night came. . .
Wise men were called from the East
Back to their Prince of Peace
His star led them there
With gifts of worship so fine and fair
The Light had entered darkness
After four hundred years of silence
Broken in a babies cry
For all to live, who once had died
The Shepherds came with staff and rod,
And these wise men, to see the face of God
In former days, and in many ways
God spoke and now by His Son,
In these latter days
He walks again with His people
In Eden made anew
His face and their face; seen through and through
To once again walk in that loving gaze
In the Glory of the face of God
In Eden’s paradise
On heavenly sod
To be right again with our God
Heaven came down and intimacy restored
Both rich and poor have seen their Lord

© December 2011, Robbie Pruitt

Hebrews 1:1-4

“God, who at various times and in various ways spoke in time past to the fathers by the prophets, has in these last days spoken to us by His Son, whom He has appointed heir of all things, through whom also He made the worlds; who being the brightness of His glory and the express image of His person, and upholding all things by the word of His power, when He had by Himself purged our sins, sat down at the right hand of the Majesty on high, having become so much better than the angels, as He has by inheritance obtained a more excellent name than they.”

Monday, December 1, 2014

Been Fishing for Me

 Photo by William Doran. Creative Commons license via Flickr.

Been Fishing for Me

The old man and the sea
Fished into eternity

I’ve been fishing for me
Casting constantly
Waiting endlessly
For a great catch from this sea

Hemingway never made it
To the end of the catch you see
He was caught by death and despair
When his line tugged under
He pulled and fought
Until his fingers bled
He was pulled asunder
Distraught until he was dead

The old man caught the sea
And I wonder, “What will become of me?”

© August 8, 2014, Robbie Pruitt

This post was written for the Tweetspeak Poetry prompt using “fishing” as a metaphor for life. You can click here to read more or to submit your own.

The Old Man and The Sea animated movie:

Tuesday, November 11, 2014

Carved Wooden Soldier

Hand Carved Wooden Soldier,
photo by emilydickinsonridesabmx from

Carved Wooden Soldier

The old man
Sits and carves
Entrenched lines
Like wrinkles
In the furl of his brow
Layers are stripped
Like mines
As he whittles in time
Slivers curl back as years
With shavings and tears
As remnants fall like shrapnel
To the cutting room floor
In disciplined craftsmanship
The essence of childhood
Is revealed in wood
As the toy soldier stood
The old man salutes what is lost
And what would never be understood

© November 5, 2014, Robbie Pruitt

Prayer of Thanksgiving for Heroic Service

“O Judge of the nations, we remember before you with grateful
 hearts the men and women of our country who in the day of
 decision ventured much for the liberties we now enjoy. Grant 
that we may not rest until all the people of this land share the
 benefits of true freedom and gladly accept its disciplines. This
 we ask in the Name of Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen. (Book of Common Prayer, p. 839)

This poem, Carved Wooden Soldier, was featured on Tweetspeak Poetry’s Whittles and Wood: Photo Play and Prompt here.

This poem, Carved Wooden Soldier, was first featured on Tweetspeak Poetry’s Whittles and Wood: Poetry Prompt and Playlist here.

This was the Poetry Prompt: “You’re watching an old timer peel away layers of wood with a pocketknife he’s had since boyhood. What is he whittling? What does it tell you about him?”

The allusion to a war veteran in the poem is intentional. The old man used to carve soldiers and imagine great battles when he was a boy. In his old age, he now understands the costliness of war and has seen it first hand. He has his own carved lines from the experiences of being on the front lines. He has seen the horrors and carves the memories as he longs for innocence lost. He had whittled in the trenches and now he whittles remembering battles on minefields. He recalls his childhood and his collections of little wooden toy soldiers. He salutes his finished product as he remembers his friends he has lost to war, just as he had lost his childhood innocence on innumerable battle lines.

Saturday, November 1, 2014


Window Through the View Finder, 
photo from Flickr, by BotheredByBees


Darkness falls nightly.
At dawn, as morning breaks,
The sunrise is framed
Light shines brightly
Through the window
Eliminating darkness’ shadow
Casting crosses in silhouette
Allowing hope’s expression to show
In shifting patterns of morning’s glow

© August 15, 2014, Robbie Pruitt

Wednesday, October 1, 2014

The Window’s Pane

Journey, photo from Flickr, by Nishanth Jois, NJ. 

The Window’s Pane

The window reveals
What’s beyond the pain
As it reflects the years
The wrinkles and tears
As drops slide down like rain

© August 15, 2014, Robbie Pruitt

Saturday, September 6, 2014

Sky Pier

 Kiss the Sky, photo courtesy of Michael Bixler,

Sky Pier

What if the stairway to heaven
Was a weathered and tattered road
Elevated and broken
Steady and upward sloping
Covered in graffiti and kissing the sky
Accentuating the chasm
Demanding arms wide open
And a leap of faith as grand as the void
Stand steady in fear of height
In wonder of what has been
And all that transcends our sight
Kiss the sky and leap with all your might

© July 20, 2014, Robbie Pruitt

Saturday, August 2, 2014


Photo of The Fall into Paradise, 2005, Bill Viola, Born: New York, New York 1951, from The Smithsonian American Art Museum website here


Break the waters
Splash the tide
Float the surface
Waters swirling
Torrent subside
Breathe the surface

© July 18, 2014, Robbie Pruitt

View a clip of The Fall into Paradise here:

Tuesday, July 1, 2014

Zachariah Jones

Zachariah Jones, photo by Angel Shaw, February 9, 2014

Zachariah Jones

Zachariah Jones
Has this wisdom
In his weathered tones
The wrinkles in his brow
Furls with his goatee
Just as the little bird had told him how
Two decades ago—street-side
The music called
And this brother took it in stride
Zachariah Jones has rhythms and tones
He’s got music down in his bones

© February 11, 2014, Robbie Pruitt

Sunday, June 1, 2014

Salt Creek

Photo by Bill Roth, courtesy of the photographer

Salt Creek

Twisted barbed wire
Like a crown of thorns
Calls back to a day forlorn

The weathered winter
And moss on the tree
Echo back from eternity

The roots spread
Into the mirrored glass
Of river—flowing past

Salt Creek flows ancient
As the ocean—Layered history
Rust, roots and rock—antiquity

© February 20, 2014, Robbie Pruitt

Poem inspired by photos and music by Jack Baumgartner:

Thursday, May 1, 2014


Photo of The Stoning (Woman Caught in Adultery) (2007), 
by Jack Baumgartner, 

“Jesus said to her, ‘Woman, where are they? Did no one condemn you?’ She said, ‘No one, Lord.’ And Jesus said, ‘I do not condemn you, either. Go. From now on sin no more.’” –John 8:10-11


The crowd gathers
I’m naked and alone
Fists full of stones
Rotten to my bones

Sand sketches—judgment
Guilt and shame
Bends the soul and stretches
I am to blame

Cast the first stone
Is this why you came?
To end a sinner
An adulterer by name

Arms raise
In condemnation
In self righteous exaltation
And prideful praise 

The shadows loom
Head hung low, the hair veils
The shadow, the judgment,
The sure doom

Those who seek justice
Comfort in the law
They are the judge and jury
In themselves they find no fault at all

From the first sinner to the last,
No stones are cast
They fall to the ground and fade
You spoke grace. You wrote, “paid.”

© February 7, 2014, Robbie Pruitt