Spending time at L’Abri is always a rewarding experience. Last time, I was able to sit down and chat with Dutch film-maker Jaap van Heusden. This time, I managed to complete a whole chapter of the book I’m working on, and get to know lots of great new people . One in particular is a wry, dry, and very witty guy from the Appalachians, who goes by the name Jonathan Rye. One evening he read one of poems which had me chuckling for a while afterwards. He kindly allowed me to post it here.


by Jonathan Rye

MaximusI am the epic hero,
the one who saves the final day.
Heralds sing my praises,
For I keep the beasts at bay.

In battle i emerge triumphant.
I slaythe enemy lord.
No other man can top me,
with bow, mace, or sword.

I can lift boulders and uproot trees.
My strength will never fail me.
The weak and helpless call my name,
and I answer to their plea.

Metals of honor adorn my arms;
my armor, solid gold.
On poetic parchment,
tales of my deeds unfold.

The marble coluymns of my home rise high.
My servants do all I ask.
The king will visit me often,
to present me with a task.

I win great renown.
Fame has filled my cup.
But every time, in the end,
I must, at last, wake up.

Oh and by the way, this is a picture of his daily breakfast routine. Perhaps that’s where I’ve gone wrong on the creativity stakes.


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