A Dialogue On Domestic Life

March 2006

A series of poems between Thomas Ward and Keith Buhler regarding the virtues and limits of the life of managing an estate, raising a family, etc.


I once unsuccessfully tried to help Keith feel my enthusiasm for domestic life. Here’s another shot. - Tom

A Poem for K.E.B. (By Thomas Ward)

God is will and intellect
Three speak holy dialect;
God’s the Type of other things
Red grapes, girls, and Saturn’s rings.

God is golden, God is green
Let’s thank Him for everything!
God is silver, God is blue
Give Him all that is His due!

Look at all He did create
Joy and sorrow gravitate;
Everything within the world
Is a God-flag far unfurled.

Daddy sweeps the floor for fun
Mother hugs her wounded son;
Lashings on the broken fence
Soon the roses will be dense

Brother knows it’s time for bed
Sister spells her name in red;
Snowdrops came up late this year
Beech leaf buds dispelled all fear

Brother strokes the tired face:
Bearded Dad who laughs with grace;
Husband’s life is in the brook
Wife returns the open book.

Colored Lord of starry choir
Shadowed in the heart of fire;
We rarefy you far too much
Divinize our sense of touch!



A Poem for Tom

Father wills to gaze on Truth:
(See Him see'ng himself, for proof!)
He enjoys himself and us --
A Type of heav'nly Narcissus.

Plato said, "They circled 'round,
And, unlike us here on the ground,
Feasted eyes on things which are,
Above the shadows where we "are."

Just as he from Kempis said
"Forsake the company of men;
Only pour out prayer devout.
Be ye pure within and -out."

And, (finally,) it once was said
By Endurance (Italian-bred):
"Diverse light in diverse spheres,
Down here, quite diverse appears."

Touch is great, but I just might
Prefer a holy sense of sight.
(That's not to say that I am sure;
But, God help me, it seems more pure.)

Perhaps my nature I resent...
"Your non-angelic bod' present..."
Living feels like sacrifice
When I could just be seeing Christ.

But, then again, Adam has seen
His girl with God in gardens green;
And Logic once became a man,
And slept and drank and used the can.

And we were bade to think and eat
(And drink the wine, the bread and meat.)
"Be ye faithful in things small," and
"Let them come, the young and all."

Perhaps I don't yet understand
That holy Scriptural command:
"Whatever you do, sweep or pray,
Do it as unto Yahwah."

Brother writes a happy poem;
Good friend finally comes home.
Dishes washed, just one to go,
Waiting for an herb to grow.

Golden God, and mottled Son,
Teach your small and pinkish one
To see all colors hid in white
To love the low, high, dim, and bright.


Glory to God alone.