Wednesday, 17 May 2023

The Song of Ruth

 

The Song of Ruth

 


Elimelek, Naomi’s husband, was dead,

Naomi, Elimelek’s wife, was a widow.

Mahlon and Kilion, Naomi’s sons, were dead,

Their wives Orpah and Ruth, were widows.[1]

Weeping widows facing future with dread

Women walking in the shadows.

 

Setting out sadly to her native land,

With Moabite daughters-in-law in tow.[2]

Walking warily west the despondent band,

Contemplated the dreary fate of the widow.

 

One woman returning to Judah in sadness,

Two women leaving Moab in sad exile.

Naomi knew their situation was madness,

Yet remained silent for a while.

 

Judah’s border lay ahead,

Harsh truth they faced.

Naomi confronted their dread,

Before too far they paced.

 

“Go back”, Naomi said,

“Even if I had more sons, you would be old maids”.

 

It was the right thing to do,

It was the kind thing to do,

It was the selfless thing to do,

It was the crazy thing to do.

 

“Thank you” Orpah said,

Relieved to be released from this obligation.

“No” said Ruth,

Refusing to abandon Naomi to her situation.

 

Orpah returned to Moab,

Leaving the story.

Ruth turned away from Moab,

Living in glory.

 

Each understood the other,

Never again seeing one another.

Orpah returned to what she’d known,

Ruth faced a future unknown.

 

Orpah knew not what the future held,

Yet trusted in Moab’s god.

Ruth knew not what the future held,

Yet trusted in Israel’s god.

 

It was the right thing to do,

It was the kind thing to do,

It was the selfless thing to do,

It was the crazy thing to do.

 

Two women walked into Judah,

One was too old to marry.

Two women walked into Bethlehem,

One was too Moabite to marry.

 

Reaching Bethlehem, curiosity they dreaded,

Two widows, two women in the shadows.

“Call me Mara”, Naomi said as she bitterly treaded,

Ruth said nothing, hoping for better tomorrows.

 

Unwanted, widowed, live they must,

Unwanted, widowed, in God they’d trust.

Naomi kept their humble dwelling,

Ruth kept them by humble gleaning.

Lost, without hope of salvation,

Lost, without man’s protection.

 

Yet all-powerful was their advocate,

Just was their ruler and judge.

Abhorring not their lowly state,

For widows, bearing no grudge.

 

God opened Boaz’s eyes to see,

The Moabite girl’s essential nobility.

Boaz provided extra grain for free,

The Moabite girl deserved his charity.

 

Ruth was selfless in support of Naomi,

Leading Boaz to support Ruth.

Thinking of the girl’s security,

Boaz told her the truth:

“Don’t glean in another field. Stay here.”

Boaz had to protect this defenseless youth.

 

Ruth was selfless in support of Naomi,

Naomi was selfless in support of Ruth.

Thinking of the young woman’s future,

Naomi told her the truth:

Boaz was her family Guardian-Redeemer,

Ruth should stay around his field.

Moabite, woman, and foreigner,

Ruth might be harmed in another man’s field.

 

It was the right thing to do,

It was the kind thing to do,

It was the selfless thing to do,

It was the crazy thing to do.

 

By and by, the harvest was done,

Barley had been harvested.

Barley threshed under hot sun,

Boaz at the threshing floor rested.

Naomi made Ruth wash, perfume, dress on the run,

Boaz was a husband ripe to be harvested.

 

Ruth came to Boaz’s threshing floor,

Ruth stayed at the party past nine.

Ruth saw where Boaz slept,

After a long day, good food and wine.

Upon inert Boaz Ruth crept,

Uncovered his feet, lay down, thinking “He’s mine!”

 

Boaz, turning in his sleep, awoke,

A young girl lay at his feet!

Was this a practical joke?

Young women young men seek to meet.

 

It was the right thing to do,

It was the kind thing to do,

It was the selfless thing to do,

It was the crazy thing to do.

 

Ruth identified herself as his servant,

Asking him to spread his garment over her,

Since he was a family Guardian Redeemer.

Under custom then current,

Ruth’s marriage proposal could not be clearer,

 

Boaz’s heart warmed,

Boaz was charmed.

 

Boaz did things by the book,

Offering first right to a nearer Guardian Redeemer.

That man refused to take up his right,

Boaz became Ruth’s Husband.

 

It was the right thing to do,

It was the kind thing to do,

It was the selfless thing to do,

It was the crazy thing to do.

 

Ruth did right by Naomi and found a husband,

Naomi did right by Ruth and found an heir,

Boaz did right by Naomi and found a young wife,

Together all three of them found a new life.

 

Ruth bore Boaz a son, Obed.

Obed was the father of Jesse.

Jesse, sired seven sons,

The youngest was David.

 

But that is another story …


© Craig Turney



[1] Ruth 1:3-5

[2] Ruth 1:6-7

Monday, 14 November 2022

Ephemeral Wave – 14th November 2022

 Ephemeral Wave – 14th November 2022

 

Twas Midterm Election Time,

For the Stars and Stripes Tribe.

Spending many a dime,

Rhetoric they imbibed.

 

Elephant Tribe trumpeting The Red Wave,

Donkey Tribe timidly trying to look brave.

Elephant Tribe promoting crazy candidates,

Donkey Tribe fearing approval rates.

 

However, twas not to be,

Voters stunned each side.

Slender house majority,

Slimming elephantine pride.

 

Why this result?

Donkey Tribe’s policies were asinine,

Elephant Tribe’s ideals were sublime,

Yet voters gave Biden more time.

 

Pundits proved poor political analysts,

Cone Man cone-sidered.

‘“The Red Wave” existed in their imagination,

And was ephemeral outside their tribe ...'

 

© Craig Turne

Tuesday, 25 October 2022

Musical Ministers - 25th October 2022

 Musical Ministers - 25th October 2022

 

Twas time Cone Man

Burst forth in verse.

Tumult shocked Common Man,

Tribal leaders were shockingly perverse.

 

Tories proud of their ‘stability’,

Projecting visions of tranquility.

Tories dismayed at their inability,

Prime Ministers serially sent to Coventry.

 

Cameron thought he knew best,

Cameron was shocked by Brexit.

May thought Remaining the best,

May sent on her merry way to the exit.

 

Johnson was jolly good fun,

Johnson was a jolly good clown.

Truss promised to get things done,

Truss after 44 days, went down.

 

‘General Election’ cried Starmer,

Tories saw no going back.

Hoping to make stormy seas calmer,

Sending for Sunak.

 

‘Blazing cones!’ Cone Man exclaimed.

‘This is worse than Game of Thrones ...’

 

© Craig Turney

Sunday, 11 September 2022

Le Deluge – 11th September 2022

 Twas the Day of the Sun,

Weather overcast and bleak.

Seven irreplaceable days run,

Cone Man reviewed the last week.

 

The Commonwealth’s Queen died,

Marxists and republicans rejoiced.

“Long live the King” royalists sighed,

Gratitude for her reign realists voiced.

 

New King on the throne,

Old queen’s shadow long.

Dead as a stone,

Her presence still strong.

 

Dying respected by all,

Seven decades of selfless service.

Dying just as Autumn began to fall,

Sad subjects facing wintry ice.

 

Louis XV said: Aprez moi, le deluge.”

Meaning: “After me, the flood.”

After Louis died in 1774, many sort refuge,

From a Europe drenched in blood.

Seeing sundry storm clouds gathering,

Cone Man sadly sighed: “Aprez Liz, le deluge.”

 

© Craig Turney

Friday, 9 September 2022

Cone Ranger – 9th September 2022

 Twas Freya’s Day, Cone Man ranged

About his worksite, checking cones.

Confirming nothing had changed

While he’d rested weary bones.

 

Different cones than found

In Elysian Fields, he sighed.

Pavement he would pound,

Control traffic he tried.

 

Work ranged far and wide,

Many places he would see.

Standing by remote roadside,

Financial freedom was not free.

 

Freedom, nevertheless,

From navel-gazing,

Angst ridden stress,

And bored grazing.

 

Labour leavening boredom,

Senses heightened by danger.

Spare time now a precious freedom,

The lot of the Cone Ranger.

 

© Craig Turney

Thursday, 8 September 2022

Cone Man’s Return – 8th September 2022

 Twas Thor’s Day, sunny September day,

Cone Man thanked his God in verse.

Thankful too for a weekly payday,

Filling his meagre purse.

 

Over three years since exile,

From the Great Hall of Wisdom.

Driven all the while,

Suffering dearth, enjoying freedom.

 

Thirty-nine months of ceaseless quest,

Selling, writing, gardening, collecting cans.

What to do? What path was best?

Making plans, ever more plans.

 

“The man that does not work should not eat,”[1]

Counselled Saint Paul the sage.

Cone Man cone-curred, enduring heat,

Labouring beside men half his age.

 

Ironically the standard device,

Ubiquitous in his new profession.

Although using every device,

Cones were their most prevalent possession.

 

© Craig Turney



[1] 2 Thessalonians 3:10

Friday, 8 July 2022

The True Vine – 8th July 2022

 

The True Vine – 8th July 2022

 

In Eden the Snake

Tempted Eve with the Apple.

Adam too, a bite, did take,

And had harsh reality, to grapple.

Labouring without a break,

Ejected from Eden, weeping couple.

 

Adam had to plough and grow,

Eve had to cook and sow.

Abel was felled by Cain’s blow,

Trials, their brows would furrow.

 

Vegetables were their relentless need.

What crop to plant? Which ground arable?

An inedible vegetable was a “weed”,

An edible weed was a “vegetable”.

 

By and by, the Sons of Adam,

Grew wheat, then olives and grapes.

By and by the Daughters of Eve,

Sewed worsteds, then silk and drapes.

 

Civilization presented Adams Sons

With questions more refined.

Growing louder at planting seasons,

As men strove to create red, fine wines.

Patiently, painfully searching for reasons:

“For best grapes, which varieties of vines?”

 

Man’s quest for the best wine ended

at a wedding feast in Cana.

When the banquet master exclaimed:

“You have saved the best till now.”[1]

 

“I am the true vine, and my Father is the gardener.”[2]


© Craig Turney



[1] John 2:1-10

[2] John 15:1