Morning Star

Christmas 2020

Poems by Peter C Venable

First Love

We love him because he first loved us. 1 John 4:19 KJV

[Love] is an abyss of illumination, a fountain of fire, bubbling up to inflame the thirsty soul.  –  St. John Climacus, The Ladder of Divine Ascent.


For the beauty of your face,

Body clothed in glowing lace.

For your touch, which since our birth,

Gave us faith and cosmic worth.       

From your life we conquer death,

Safe beyond our final breath.


Your love, a fount of fire,

Your love, a blazing spire,

All of this, we are immersed.

The greatest gift? You loved us first.



—a mystery or secret doctrine, Strong’s Concordance


She—dark eyebrows, inky eyes,

raven hair, olive skin—bakes as her family

works in the fields daydreaming


about that bearded man

under their ketubah . . . so handsome!                   

but exiling such thoughts she

reaches for flatbread toasting in a pan


the dim room incandesces with blinding light—

an iridescent figure speaks

words piercing her soul—

then vanishes his image seared


in her sight the room again dim

flatbread smoking she seizes it

burnt then she sits staring


at smoke wafting through

the small window contemplating

“the Highest overshadowing you . . .”


Pale Blue Dot

The Unmoved Mover saw darkness

in His universe of galactic ballet

birthing suns and colossal novas,

marooned moons and looping planets


and at this pale blue dot

millennia ago. At that time

and at that space,

piercing dark matter dark energy

between spacetime arcs and curves

through photon and electron orbits

passing electromagnetic forces,


infinite energy became

infinitesimal mass

at an immaculate point:


Spirit beamed light

into an ovum

of a Galilean girl.


Cristes Masse

This night a couple begged for space in a stall.

Starlight unveiled her swollen belly.

Her face grimaced like his. The couple

collapsed on straw, dung, pigeon droppings.


A stranger rose,

dragged an empty feeding trough

to the couple, folded his mantle inside it,



What is this glimmering shaft outside,

aiming at the stable’s doorway?


Morning Star

First Cause breathed all worlds into being

As orbiting lenses bring tiny spirals into seeing,

And shaped symmetry and tones to butterfly wings;

Poured living water from cloud-capped springs.


He sent a shimmering being one night

To grimy herders, soul-stricken with fright,

About a birth this day in the city of David *

Hidden among sheep and lambs, goats and kids.

A Deliverer swaddled in a feeding-box bed;

a Hebrew infant resting his dear sweet head.

Above, an assembly chanted with single accord

Glory to the Holy One, the highest Lord. *


Swiftly the sky turned dark, spotted with stars,

But one streamed ahead, from heights so far.

The herders left all and trekked to that beam…

Lost in the spectacle they had just seen:


A mystery so deep, so impossible to grasp;

A mystery so beautiful, so impossibly vast.


*Luke 2:11,14

The writer has written sacred and secular verse for decades. He has been published in Prairie Messenger, Windhover, The Anglican Theological Review, Ancient Paths, The Christian Communicator, Time of Singing, The Christian Century, and others. He is a member of the Winston Salem Writers. He serves a life sentence, condemned to write verse. His Jesus Through A Poet’s Lens is now available via Kindle.