$15.00
Whole Cloth: Sacred Stories in Verse
In Whole Cloth, Garry Breland
has collected some of his poems written on Biblical themes and some
well-known and lesser-known stories and characters. There are also two
thematic series in the book. One on the Nativity tells the story of the
common figures of the Christmas Nativity scene. This series was inspired
one year as he packed away his collection of crèches after Christmas. It
struck him that Mary was the only female figure in an event—birth of a
baby—that in any other setting would feature numerous other women.
Breland has tried to reflect women’s points of view in several other
poems as well, such as Hannah, Naomi, Mary Magdalene, and the unnamed
women whose stories are woven into the gospel. The book also includes a
series of the Beatitudes, which he hopes readers have an opportunity to
dwell upon the amazing words of Jesus as he spoke to the multitudes upon
the mountain.
Many of the poems are written in sonnet form, but there are aslo other
formal patterns and some in free verse. Breland’s hope it that the
language will help to open fresh insight into what for many people are
familiar stories and teaching in the Bible.
About
the Author:
Garry Breland lives in Hattiesburg, Mississippi, where
he works at his alma mater,
William Carey University. As a child and as an adult, he spent much of
his life out of the Deep South: in childhood trekking across the country
to keep up with his father’s Air Force postings; as an adult, he worked
for 24 years at Hannibal-LaGrange College in Hannibal, Missouri. His
career has led him through a succession of roles: pastor, college
professor, counselor, administrator, but the avocation of poet has
always been part of his calling. Garry and his wife, Mary Beth Lawrence
Breland have two children and three grandchildren.
As an amateur poet, Garry has had poems published in The Indigo, The
Magnolia Quarterly, The Spill, and was given honorable mention in The
Chronicle of Higher Education’s 2010 Poetry Month contest.
Mary Sits
Mary sits, a solitary woman, Among the men who leaning, cluster round Enrapt upon the babe upon the ground, And even he, a male, her first-born son. Were there no sisters, cousins, aunts or such, And could the innkeeper not have sent his wife Out to the stable on that darksome night To aid and lend a woman’s knowing touch? But no, in every crèche throughout the land The female burden falls on her alone The wise men left the wise women home Neither was a shepherdess at hand. Where else but in this centerpiece of faith Is woman left so singular a grace?
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Healed with MudBenighted from his birth And beggared by his inability To earn his bread, as others, by his work, Nor could he see Who smeared with mud his eyes of night With gentle fingers shedding light. His ears heard, “Go and bathe; Siloam’s pool is waiting to reveal A world that has been hidden all your days.” Can
this be real? When the mud was washed and gone The light of day for him first dawned. And then the questions came, From friend and foe who tried to understand. He said, “I do not even know the name Of that good man Who touched my eyes with healing clay Or where he may be found today.” From synagogue put out, Jesus came to find him once again: Asked if he believed — “Without a doubt, Since I have seen.” Then bowed to him who healed with mud And saved his people by his blood.
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