John Schwartz Poetry

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  • “Puzzle Poems” Intro and #1: KK

    One of the many many things I enjoy about writing poetry is hiding stuff in them. Allusions to the Bible, stuff God’s shown me, word plays, etymologies, random references to events when I was a kid, stuff I’ve been thinking about, etc… weaving stuff in (or packing as the case may be, poems vary widely in how straightforward or obscure they are). It’s sorta like each poem has a key and I’m the only one that holds it (sometimes the key gets lost in my own pocket haha, when I look back at a poem I wrote and can’t at first remember what I myself was referring to or thinking of). Naming the poems is a part I also really enjoy, one of the chief reasons being that often is a way to give clues or pointers. And then it’s fun and honoring when people have an energy to try to figure it out themselves. I’m always kinda amazed at that, actually, because truth be told I don’t read much poetry myself (except song lyrics) and feel pretty darn inept at doing it. (There’s also the situation when people see stuff that I didn’t have in mind at all, or even had something in mind that is pretty different … that’s been an interesting/fun/weird area … but that’s a subject for a later time.)

    Anyway… I wrote a few poems (two in January, one in April) that ended up being sorta riddle or puzzle poems … more than just hiding stuff, these actually are more like an invitation to figure out what they’re about. They have some meaning on the poem level, but it’s only when you figure out what they’re about that they can then help inform that very level. Well, two of them. One of them (the one below) I got pretty goofy/dramatic with and was mostly writing for fun–the juxtaposition between the tone and the actual subject matter made me laugh out loud.

    So here’s the first one!

    KK
    I was born into bondage
    Shoved and pounded from earliest recall
    Until I came of age
    
    Then came the day
    That gruesome day
    When they took the blade to my core
    And everyone around me
         Everyone who made it that is
         Those who fell were cast away
    Then the ride
    Through agonizing undulations of southern heat
    And down the ramp to hell
    
    I’ll never forget the sizzle of cooking flesh
    My flesh
    My shred of relief at a side untouched
    Itself shredded in a moment’s flip
    An unbearable loop of pain
    My crisp body unfeeling
    Unrecognizable
    Marched to the deluge
    Choking my body
    Drowning my voice
    As the bystanders leered
         (the monsters even brought their children)
    Then falling motionless
    On wicked steel grates
    Where tormentors with sticks
         and dispassionate eyes
    Shoved us like cattle in boxes
         The livers that is
         Again
         Those who crumpled were swept away
    
    Who am I?
    Can anyone deliver?
    What have I done to deserve this?
    When will it end
    And how?
    The truth’s as dark as my countenance
    Some dream of freedom
    But all I hear are further terrors
    Rumors of naked display
    And sale like commodities
    To ravenous giants who paw and drool
    The dawning horror
    Bred and raised to be consumed
    
    Why, God, why?
    Kan you hear my kry?
  • Altogether Lovely

    I was working in our shared Ichthus office down at The Well most days in August 2018 … and one day a co-worker, Matt Cantril, shared an article with me entitled “Christ Altogether Lovely,” written in the 17th century by a man named John Flavel. I read it, and loved it, and wrote this poem. To be honest, I don’t have a lot of pleasant memories from that particular time, as it was a season of significant forging and discipline from the Lord, but that day with Flavel was one of them.

    Here’s a link if you’d like to read it for yourself:

    https://www.gracegems.org/SERMONS2/Flavel%20altogether_lovely.htm

    ALTOGETHER LOVELY
    I love your name
    I love your way
    I love your face
    I will obey

    I love your light
    so warm and clear
    I love your blood
    that draws me near
    I love your power
    to save and slash
    This office party
    you let me crash

    I love your freedom
    open door
    I love your passion
    true paramour
    I love your friendship
    tender, true
    We have relations
    can this be true?

    I love you now
    I’ll love you then
    I love your heart
    I will not sin

    Oh Jesus, Jesus
    Lovely one
    Receive this poem
    I’m undone

  • Kate and I

    Kate Spade took her life on June 5, 2018 — Jeanette’s and my 25th wedding anniversary. Hearing that news made me sad … and inspired this poem. (I chose this one as my selection to share in my small group at the Songwriters’ Workshop put on by Sara Groves in August 2019, which was a vulnerable and fun experience. They were kind and complimentary, and the group leader suggested a change that I’ve integrated — and I think made the poem better. Thanks Michael.)

    The quote near the end is from a scene in a C. S. Lewis book that I find particularly poignant. Recognize it? Comment or email me if you’re curious about it.

    KATE AND I
    Aching
    So much pain
    Spade separated from heart
    Spade separated from life
    The ruined soul
    All around me
    And I know it too
    The lemming flow
    The groaning
    The unbearable burden of creativity
         when it’s not tethered to the Creator
         life must have a source
         were Adam and Eve artists?
              of course
    Oh they hid
    Oh we hide
    I want to stop hiding
    These sins are unwelcome flatmates
    Who keep brandishing a rental contract
         three and four generations
    Can I tear it up?
    
    Oh light of the world
    Oh gentle sweet breeze
    I want out of this contract
    Will you pay the termination fee
         it is unaffordable
    Please draw these blinds
         they’re made of lead
    Please lift the sash
         it’s swollen stuck
    Musty and coughing room
    “Oh don’t don’t let me go back into it
    Don’t, don’t”
    I’m down to my last card
    It sure ain’t a diamond
    All I deserve is a club
    But for your Name’s sake let it be a heart
    My heart
    Guard it
    Surpass mind
    Thank you …
    Oh thank you

  • What Hatred Was Made For

    I really, really like this one. An Easter poem. Just wrote it yesterday morning and it fills me with holy energy and makes me giggle. I’m calling it by a subtitle here which alludes to a scene in Perelandra by C. S. Lewis; the actual title is R-rated and I don’t know my audience so I toned it down a bit haha. The last line is a quote from a movie that if you recognize the scene should also make you chuckle.

    The painting above is another one by my friend Steven Moser (see my first poem post “Danforth”) … it is called “Resurrection and the Life” from a series of paintings called “I am…” I love it when a poem I write ties with a painting he has done. I think I’d like to try to write some poems just inspired from his paintings — that would be a good exercise for me…

    WHAT HATRED WAS MADE FOR
    The ground shakes
    The stone rolls
    And the arms emerge
    An eagle on one hand
    A dove on the other
    The double bird

    Now the face
    Flashing eyes
    Explosive grin
    The light of a billion suns
    It is finished
    And can’t be undone

    And the demon turns
    And says
    You arrogant ass
    You’ve killed us

  • Living with the Accountant

    Haven’t posted in 2 1/2 months. Not positive anyone reads these haha. (If you do and you’d like to see more, shoot me an email at john@ichthusmhk.org.)

    So my poetry writing output has slowed WAY down from when I first started in November 2017. I wrote 165 poems in the first seven months, but in the last seven, just over 30. Various reasons for that–some valid, some that reflect the constant resistance on the creative process that artists told me about. But I still love to do it. And I have thought happily a number of times of how fun it would be to take a retreat just focused on writing poems.

    So I finally did it! Well, sorta. I came to KC yesterday for about a 24-hour period (scrunched some by having to take insurance claim pictures of my daughter’s vehicle that got speared by a Leawood snowplow recently–there is always something!) and decided to take maybe half of my productive hours to do poetry-related things. Not exactly a long retreat–but certainly better than nothing!

    Anyway, I got tired yesterday before I’d done much, so I decided to take a nap at 4pm. Yeah, I then woke up at 10:30pm. I guess I was tired, eh? (I won’t even tell you about the bizarre dream I had. I did write a poem about it, but it probably won’t make it here LOL.) Anyway, I grabbed some lovely QT coffee and worked til about 5 am … and I had a ball. Such fun. Wrote about 6 1/2 poems, including one I collaborated with some friends on in the brainstorming process about a month ago, and I thought I’d share a short one inspired by a recent movie I saw. Enjoy!

    LIVING WITH THE ACCOUNTANT
    I like incongruity
    He said with one of his seven smiles
    If he’s willing he could like himself
    These tender Mr Darcys
    how do you pluralize that
    please don’t say it’s an apostrophe
    but I digress
    Foreboding gray waters
    Teeming with life
    A world unseen
    Awaiting a lover’s eye
    Lest it die denied
    Or dormant lie

  • The Station Will Be Truly Grand

    I wrote this one when I was reading The Anatomy of the Soul by Kurt Thompson. I found that book fascinating–as I find most every book about the brain, how the mind and brain interrelate, etc., fascinating. The particular thing I was struck by that made its way into this poem was Thompson’s picture of the brain as a train station and how we can be hijacked by experiences that get us functioning primarily in our limbic system and not using our prefrontal cortex. A regular theme of Thompson’s book is of the need for our brains to be integrated … spotlighting the often great dis-integration of my own brain. God made us with a whole brain, to beautifully work in tandem. I love that he’s doing that in me.

    THE STATION WILL BE TRULY GRAND
    Left brain left brain left brain right
    Crooked march into the night
    Left brain left brain left brain more
    Soul hands bloody on the door

    Split distracted crashing trains
    Shouting louder ‘bout their pains
    Confused conductor losing heart
    Wringing hands oh where to start

    Urgent pressure fear and shame
    Grasping wind to rest in name
    (his and mine they intertwine
    I’m in him the branch in Vine)

    Oh I’m wrecked oh what a mess
    Hebbian chokehold full court press
    The day of trouble yes indeed
    Seek the one thing to be freed
    Be set high upon a rock
    The Lord’s temple has no clock

    Now I lay my panic down
    The peace of peace will be my crown
    Where sin increases grace abounds
    Soul hands thrust forth praise resounds
    Oh your beaming constant face
    Integrate my splintered race

  • Finding John Davidson

    So I’m having fun posting these. It’s funny though because as I read through my poems, I want to post a bunch of them. Not because I know if they’re “good” or not — who decides that? what criteria? many of my poems have me thinking they’re terrible and pretty decent within a two-hour (or two-minute!) period — but because I just like them. And when you like stuff, you want to share it with people. So here we go–another one.

    (Before I go on, I will say that if you want to be able to make comments, you have to click on the actual post and not just read it from the main page … maybe y’all knew that, but I didn’t and had to ask the guy who set this all up for me haha.)

    OK, so this one I like because it’s a Bible one. I memorized Psalm 27 with a student a few years ago and it (like pretty much almost all the longer-than-a-few-verses stuff I’ve memorized) ended up being pretty meaningful and powerful in my life. And then at one point I decided to write a poem inspired by it. Poem inspired by a poem. Here you go…

    FINDING JOHN DAVIDSON
    Not hiding from
    But hidden with
    No downcast eyes
    But beauty gaze
    No fearing heart
    But bold in hope
    No panicked screams
    But shouts of praise
    No orphaned pit
    But embraced aid
    No rabbit zag
    But firm tracks laid
    No leering foe
    But face of flow
    The roaring tumult
    Far below

    Oh Yahweh, Yahweh
    Rock that’s true
    Such is the way
    That’s found in you
    The light the space
    The goodness now
    Oh help me wait
    And trust somehow
    Hear my voice
    And stoop to meet
    Me in my chaos
    With mercy sweet

  • Danforth

    Deciding which poem to share first isn’t easy. To read through all 250+ poems I’ve written would take a while, and even then there’s so many of them I love, but is that just because they’re mine and not because objectively people will benefit/enjoy them, and blah blah blah. So I just decided to pick one that K-Staters will especially appreciate and just came up yesterday in a conversation. My friend Steven Moser is an artist, and in an unplanned conversation at Bluestem Bistro, he talked about light — and specifically illustrated what he was saying by pointing to a painting (see above) that he’d done of Danforth Chapel, a beautiful place here on the campus of Kansas State University. (Steven’s art often hangs on the walls of Bluestem and in fact this one is there right now as part of a show!)

    His picture reminded me of a poem I wrote about Danforth in 2017, a couple weeks after I started writing them. Well, actually the first phrase, “stained glass hands,” just came to my mind without reference to Danforth and I really liked its feel in my mind, so I wrote it down first and then what ended up coming out was a poem about the chapel, a place where I spent a bunch of hours when I was a student (occasionally sleeping on the heated floors under a pew between classes) and have also done a ton of prayer things over the years related to Ichthus.

    I say the poem is about Danforth Chapel, and it is sorta, but then it’s really about much more than that. See what you think and feel free to comment below; that’s what people do, right? Or don’t. We’re all free here haha.

    DANFORTH
    Stained-glass hands
    Silent, outstretched
    Cool caresses
    To yearning soul

    Past the chatter
    Mind oasis
    Still small voice
    My heart’s home

    No one sees us
    Johnny stays out
    Delicious quiet
    I’ve known you long

    Why seek cisterns
    Broken, failing
    Liquid presence
    Still at hand

  • I should post something soon…

    I need to decide my first post. Something I’ve written? Something I should write for the occasion? Oops, there’s that ‘should’ word. We are studiously avoiding that one for this blog haha.

    How about…

    I had a cat

    He ate a rat

    It made him fat

    And that was that

    Just kidding. I didn’t even write that one; my mom told me that when I was a kid I think. (Yes–just confirmed it with my mom, like two years after I wrote this post. Apparently it was a poem my grandpa made up for my aunt when she had to come up with a poem for her class and was totally striking out haha. Good ol’ Grandpa. You know, I ought to write a poem about him…) Anyway… thanks for coming to the site, and check back in the next few days!