Harps Unhung

One of the things that kept me busy the first year after mom's passing was completing a writing project that she had begun back in 1992. In a nutshell, the project was an attempt to re-write all 150 of the Psalms, using 150 unique styles of poetry. She was exactly 50% through at the time of her death. I completed the remaining 75 poems and the full collection was published in June of 2014 through Westbow Press. The book is entitled, "Harps Unhung: Praising God in the Midst of Captivity."

The book is available via numerous bookstore websites online, but Amazon is probably the easiest and cheapest place to get it.

http://www.amazon.com/Harps-Unhung-Praising-Midst-Captivity/dp/1490839003/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1460409295&sr=8-1&keywords=Harps+Unhung

Here is an excerpt. The first poem was written by mom; the second poem was written by me.

PSALM 23

My Shepherd is the Lord, I have no needs

As I lie down in peace where’ere He leads,

By streams serene

Or pastures lush and green,

He lifts, restores my soul, on Him I lean.

And though I walk through valleys dark with death,

As horrors haunt my soul and steal my breath,

I will not fear

For You are ever near,

The comfort of Your rod and staff are dear.

You set a place for me among my foes,

Anoint my head with oil, my cup o’erflows,

You follow me

With love beyond degree,

And in Your house I’ll dwell eternally.

PSALM 144 

Sergeant Major of the Heavens, stronghold and shield,

strengthen my feeble hands that weapons of war, I may wield!

O Lord, what is man but a fleeting, shallow breath,

passing like shadows from transitory lives to their death?

Bear down upon the mountains ‘til they tremble – slip:

cause your presence to spill over the top of heaven’s lip.

Send forth lightening – golden arrows ‘cross the sky,

stretched on bows of thunder shot from cloudy thrones on high.

Free my neck from the grip of aqueous fingers;

scrape fables from unctuous tongues where wicked slander lingers.

Upon the charango, I strum an unknown chord;

songs for our holy Champion who saves us from the sword.

May our sons rise like cedars praising deity;

daughters, caryatids, raising a palace canopy.

May our silos overflow – livestock fill the stalls;

blessed are all of God’s people on whom all these blessings fall!