Author Archive for Matthew B. Rose

Ecce Homo
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Ecce Homo

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He is alone in the dream. The stink of the jail cell dissipates and the smell of the seashore plucks at the man’s memory. He stands alone on the seashore. Small waves kiss the shore, like some nervous school girl who knows she shouldn’t but kisses a boy anyway. He thinks of the waves, then […]

 Poem: "To Medusa"
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Poem: “To Medusa”

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To Medusa Gorgon, my Gorgon I gaze on that sweetest face. Stone, my own face turns. O Medusa, dear, Let us talk a while here, Make our wedding plans. Shall it be had here, Or closer to your own Greece, Under olive trees? Who should we invite? Who can stand to see your grace? Who […]

Poem: “To Uncle Clive”
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Poem: “To Uncle Clive”

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To Uncle Clive “At my first coming into the world I had been (implicitly) warned never to trust a Papist, and at my first coming into the English Faculty (explicitly) never to trust a philologist. Tolkien was both” – C. S. Lewis, Surprised by Joy You stubborn fool! You biased fool! Why did you not […]

Poem: “The Most Humble Man on Earth”
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Poem: “The Most Humble Man on Earth”

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The Most Humble Man on Earth I’m the most humble man on earth. Of all men stripped of noble birth And left to wander the streets at night, With only a forsaken birth right, I am the most humble. I am more holy than a pious priest Who wages wars with spiritual beasts, And says […]

Poem: “The Dark Night of the Soul”
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Poem: “The Dark Night of the Soul”

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The Dark Night of the Soul (How does my love look when she sleeps?) How does my love look when she sleeps? She sleeps quietly, not snoring, Soon sighing as she is dreaming. When the nightmare and terror disturb That quiet surrender to peace, She stirs, moans, and cries out for Me. Her face distorts, […]

Poem: "Fourteenth Station"
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Poem: “Fourteenth Station”

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Fourteenth Station Good Friday I am here, watching the hole, Filled with a rock and still There is danger, stupid anger. I heard him speak once; He was very good. Like a god. Maybe he was a god. Maybe he was God. So we killed God and buried him in a hole. He’s in the […]

Poem: "Thirteenth Station"
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Poem: “Thirteenth Station”

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Thirteenth Station Good Friday He’s dead? Already? I was sure he would remain, A living human stain, Hanging up there, he should have been good For another few hours of gory food. I cannot believe this news. You are sure? You saw it too? Really? Fine. Do what you will. Take him down. Let him […]

Poem: "Twelfth Station"
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Poem: “Twelfth Station”

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Twelfth Station Good Friday Father, forgive them, they know not what they do. I’m not saying they aren’t culpable, But they don’t know better. They choose this evil, but they don’t know why. Working through them? Lord, I understand. So forgive them their part, Lord, if they are willing. Not my will, though, but Thine. […]

Poem: "Eleventh Station"
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Poem: “Eleventh Station”

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Eleventh Station Good Friday “My friends, you are my closest ones. You alone I can trust. You are my closest companions, James, here, you have some dust Stuck to your shirt, There, cleaned off the dirt. My three friends, Peter, James, and John, Are closer to me than the rising sun. I tell you this, […]

Poem: "Tenth Station"
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Poem: “Tenth Station”

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Tenth Station Good Friday My pretty bird, sing for me. My, what beautiful feathers, What beautiful fetters. I’ll take them off you, And your feathers too. My bird, my worm, dove turned to dirt. Aww, you cry. I’ll wipe your face. The back of my hand cleans that disgrace. Foolish man, you are nothing now. […]

Poem: "Ninth Station"
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Poem: “Ninth Station”

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Ninth Station Good Friday Why doesn’t he stay there? It’s good for him, the old dusty air. Kings of Kings have trodden here, Holding dear Sacred relics of God and Man, Keeping them hidden, doing what they can to help God. No, this man won’t enjoy the dirt. He will not rest, His loins are […]

Poem: "Eighth Station"
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Poem: “Eighth Station”

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Eighth Station Good Friday Mother, who’s that man? Why is he sighing? Mother, who’s that lady? Why is she crying? Mother, who’s that man? Why is he bleeding? Mother, who are these ladies? Why are they weeping? Why are you weeping? Mother? Mommy? Matthew B. Rose

Poem: "Seventh Station"
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Poem: “Seventh Station”

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Seventh Station Good Friday I can see Him now, coming up this way, Murmuring words no man can say. Worming his way along the path, He trusted all, all for their worth Broken, bleeding, he heard their pleading A mother in love, a Father above, Spittle flying, Love is dying. I hear crying. O My […]

Poem: "Sixth Station"
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Poem: “Sixth Station”

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Sixth Station Good Friday Come, all you who pass by. Can you hear them moan and sigh? Hot tears, bitter tears, All your fears, All those years, Were they a waste? I will not let it be a waste. Here, man, if you will not turn back, Here is a piece of my own slack, […]

Poem: "Fifth Station"
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Poem: “Fifth Station”

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Fifth Station Good Friday My God, My God, Why am I here? Why the tortures Horrors Grimly I fear This Dies Irae It seems so dark Lonely, lonesome O God, where are you? Answer Me! Matthew B. Rose

Poem: "Fourth Station"
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Poem: “Fourth Station”

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Fourth Station Good Friday “My Lord.” “My Lady fair.” “Speak lover.” “Purest Beloved: Do you remember, long ago, a gift and blessing from my Lord?” “Your Lord?” “The Lord.” “I remember misty warmth and whispery words, Some unspoken, all were heard.” “And I?” “The Gift.” “As well I do remember. His presence made present.” “A […]

Poem: "Third Station"
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Poem: “Third Station”

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Third Station Good Friday A man lays broken Words unspoken A priceless token Freely given But still riven And yet he looks up Breathes And gets up. Matthew B. Rose

Poem: "Second Station"
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Poem: “Second Station”

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Second Station Good Friday The other day, when we were walking (we are almost out of time) I remember you said something serious (jokingly, of course, of course) something about a kingdom (my kingdom for a horse?) maybe it was something else (what about hands) that’s it, I remember (The Kingdom of Heaven is at […]

Poem: “Good Friday”
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Poem: “Good Friday”

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“Good Friday” Intro Deus meus, Deus meus, O my Lord, Save us, save us, Through your mercy Save us. Adam, see what you started, Eve, see what you did, All your sins, and yours and mine, He was somehow able to forgive. Hear that sound, it is a gong, A solitary steady song, Hear it […]

About the Operation
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About the Operation

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“About the Operation” (author’s note: the following story is an adaptation of a short story by Ernest Hemingway entitled “Hills Like White Elephants.”)   They sit quietly together in their house. He has a beer; she has nothing. A look passes from man to woman. “I don’t see why you’re upset baby. You seemed fine […]

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