“news from a country we have
never yet visited”
C.S. Lewis


From a Country Not Yet Visited

From a country not yet visited,
we received news,

received the echo of a rare nightingale
yet to be heard,
received the glimpse of an unusual orchid
yet to be admired,
received the whiff of a mysterious perfume
yet to be inhaled,
received the taste of a delicious flavor
yet to be savored,
received the touch of a cool breeze
yet to be refreshed by.

“From a country
we’ve not yet visited,
we received news.
Our longings rose up
and so we stopped
our searching in
books, videos, ipods, and
Reality TV,
stopped what we were
busy doing,

and set off to
travel there.


© Sherman Poultney 17 April 2007



Note: Derived from a sermon by C.S. Lewis as described by P. Steinfels in New York Times religion article December 3, 2005

Ticketmaster to the Great Beyond

“We cannot conceive of ourselves as not existing.”
Miguel de Unamuno


Ticketmaster to the Great Beyond

Call for the ticketmaster,
offer him all that I have.
He and I know my body will return to dust
to be scattered over the earth
as the winds blow and the rivers flow.
Know that my prior sentient existence,
all my thoughts, memories and dreams
will evaporate like vapors into a vacuum,
except those in the minds of others and
those on the pages I have written.
I need to prepare for my death.
Bring to me now the
ticketmaster to the great beyond.

Hear, oh ticketmaster,
a one-way ticket to the great beyond
where the molecules of my body,
from the dust of my cremated and
pulverized body and brain,
can be released and dispersed
to be blown outwards by the sun’s rays
out past Jupiter and Pluto into intergalactic space.
To drift forever or to be
caught up by new planets and stars.
To be incorporated into and contribute to
new forms of being.
Ah, thank you for loosening my earth’s bond,
ticketmaster to the great beyond.


© Sherman K. Poultney 6 March 2007

Ringmaster of the Circus Parade

I went to the funeral parlor that evening
to find the coffin sealed.
A photo of her with characteristic smile
sat on and sealed the lid.
She had died a lingering death at 90.
No need for an open coffin and the
crying and weeping for one taken suddenly in full life.
Family and church friends gathered apart from the coffin
and its sprays of pink and white flowers.
In small clusters, they talked cheerfully about
her contributions to them and to the church
as if she still lived as they knew her then.
How I envied her when I was eight and she was made
the Ringmaster of the Church Fair Circus Parade.

Beneath the closed cover,
I pictured her dressed in her
polka-dotted clown’s costume and white wig.
She and her husband had made the circus animals
with the help of her kids.
They used chicken wire and burlap.
An ostrich, an elephant, even a giraffe,
a long pole serving as its neck.
She led the parade to the church and
showed the animals how to prance
around the vestibule and into the hall.
She allowed me to walk her tightrope
that was a piece a rope she placed on the floor.
Ringmaster of the Circus Parade.


© Sherman K. Poultney 9 Feb 2007


Note: Written after reading “The Emperor of Ice Cream” by Wallace Stevens