The Psalms Project

So, I am trying a new poetry experiment. I think through sheer exhaustion I have struggled to produce poetry at a steady rate. I am also hoping to enrich my devotional life by connecting it to my creative life. I am calling this the Psalms Project.

The goal of the project is to read two psalms a day. That is a very modest and achievable goal. 5 minutes of time max. My next step would be to do a literary, not theological, analysis of each psalm. I hope to approach them as a poem to discover their method, technique, theme, and genre. After I have categorize them, I reread them, take in the spiritual meaning and move on. I then hope to write my own version of a each psalm, one psalm for every two or three days. It would take me a year or so to rewrite the entire book but only about three months to read the entire book.

The poems themselves are not a rewrite. The goal would be to use the psalm as a jumping off point. I have no intention of rewriting scripture. My goal is to be inspired and to ponder. I hope to post the poetry I create and work through. Most of what I post will be a very rough draft. Here is an example of my format.

Psalm 1
Teaching poem. The moral is to read/study the law.
2 Stanzas, wise man stanza vs fool stanza. Benefits of studying the law vs symptoms of failing to do so.

Psalm 2
Teaching poem. Moral is to follow God, he is the true king.
3 parts. People plot. God's reaction. David's lesson.
God is sovereign, his rage can flare up in a moment. He chooses kings. Plotters thought Jews were "in chains" to God. God chose David, deal with it. Son/anointed one is David in this passage. Take refuge in God. God has power and peace, any other conclusion makes God laugh apparently.

Both psalms focus on what the wise do (trust/follow/study/obey God) vs what the wicked do (scoff and perish). Warnings.

I Read Psalms 1 While Sipping Coffee on a Memphis Morning

The cud of these verses sticks on the roof of my mouth.
I have torn the pages up and doused them in cinnamon.
I will grind the ink off the page and store it
In coffee filters that float above my bubble bath.

I am hoping osmosis will lead my soul to wrinkle
Like fingertips no longer outstretched to the Moon,
A visitor soliciting a peek at my flabby nudity.
She reminds me that I am at the beginning of a song.
A song seducing the Mississippi to pour over me,
Peeling off my eyelids and transcribing itself upon the
Inside. A song bringing Morning out of my kitchen,
Knocking the oranges off of the kitchen table,

Stealing the keys on my desk. Putting them
In a blender with my eyelids. I will drink this.
Then I will begin to brew.