Wordsworth wrote an endless poem in blank verse on” the growth of a poet’s mind.”  I shall attempt a more modest feat for a more distracted age: a blog, “Things which a Lifetime of Trying to Be a Poet has Taught Me.”

See how long it takes you to discover what this poem is about.


The Moment

The seed had slept some fourteen years, but now

There was more than silent darkness:  something new,

A gentle motion, growing warmth.  Somehow

The tiny cell knew what it had to do:

Glide on and be receptive to its fate,

Either a greater change or death.  The girl

Felt nothing whatsoever when the weight

That counterpoises all the blazing swirl

Of suns we call the universe was pressed

To needle concentration down and driven

Into her belly.  She could not have guessed

The power of the gift so softly given;

The egg would never be the same again.


It would have been annihilated by

The impact if the same force had not been

Within, sustaining.  Men who watched the sky

Were startled by a star they did not know;

The demons trembled and did not know why;

In Mary’s womb, the seed began to grow.


Remember: for more poetry like this, go to and order Stars Through the Clouds! Also look for Inklings of Reality and Reflections from Plato’s Cave, Williams’ newest books from Lantern Hollow Press: Evangelical essays in pursuit of Truth, Goodness, and Beauty.

Donald T. Williams, PhD


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