October 31, 2025 · 3:45 pm

There, then, at the end

Dinosaurs, ichthyosaurs, and pterodactyls—
wow! And I mean wow!
Violent, voracious, and vicious,
they were the complete package.
But Nature is God’s Will writ large
so He loved them the equal to us.
Did they there, then, at the end,
look up at the sky and think,
Ooooh! Awesome! What now?

This was a poem that came to me in a half-daze as I tried to wake up one morning. I think it was just after having a dream about the destruction Hurricane Melissa was causing in the Caribbean, but half-dazes are confusing. I know I worked very hard to commit the thing to memory, lest I forget it..

Thank you for reading There, then, at the end. I sincerely hope you have enjoyed it and humbly appreciate your visiting the Book of Pain. As always, I look forward to your comments.

The photograph was taken in Corner Brook, Newfoundland. To see my photography blog, please visit the Book of Bokeh.

j.

Poem, and notes © John Etheridge; all rights reserved. The poem and accompanying notes are licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Work 3.0 Unported License. This applies to all original written work found on this site unless noted otherwise. The attribution claimed under the license is © John Etheridge, https://bookofpain.wordpress.com. The photograph is © John Etheridge and not licensed for use in any way without the expressed consent of its creator.

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August 1, 2025 · 2:46 pm

Peerless

O my children, take heed and be patient, my loves,
    for that age will be Peerless, trust;
be sure that day will never fail, my loves,
    for that dawn will be Peerless, wait.
No dark will flood the breath of that morn, my loves,
    for it will be the song of the Peerless, listen;
and gentle and sweet will be that tune, my loves,
    for the gale of it will be Peerless, soar.
Much may be lost in that storm, my loves,
    but never the fragrance of the Peerless, inhale;
for the wafting of this scent lingers on, my loves,
    and the pull of it is Peerless, believe.
Trust that the tug of your dreams is less, my loves,
    than the waymaker voice of the Peerless, search;
for it will be a whisper and a shout, a cry and a sigh, my loves,
    make ready for the Peerless, yearn.
It is—it will be—that wonderful, joyous, sweet moment of utter madness,
when the idea, the wonder, the hope, all become that very first kiss, my loves,
    and everything will be is as it always has been, Peerless. 

The idea of this poem is taken from The Tablet of Ahmad verse:

…informing the severed ones of the message which hath been revealed by God, the King, the Glorious, the Peerless…

It is my belief that the term “the King” refers to the Báb, “the Glorious” to Bahá’u’lláh, and that “the Peerless” will be the epithet of the next Manifestation of God. That will not be for at least a further 800 years, but I like taking the long bet. See you then.

Thank you for reading Peerless. I sincerely hope you have enjoyed it and humbly appreciate your visiting the Book of Pain. As always, I look forward to your comments.

The photograph was taken on the South Island of New Zealand while en route to Christchurch. To see my photography blog, please visit the Book of Bokeh.

j.

Poem, and notes © John Etheridge; all rights reserved. The poem and accompanying notes are licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Work 3.0 Unported License. This applies to all original written work found on this site unless noted otherwise. The attribution claimed under the license is © John Etheridge, https://bookofpain.wordpress.com. The photograph is © John Etheridge and not licensed for use in any way without the expressed consent of its creator.

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July 18, 2025 · 3:23 pm

From azal to abad

Heedless…turned back…dead…withered…
words for the unwary, then.
But a half-century bleeds you much
and teaches you more
about the truths of failure,
the greater truths of shame,
and the greatest truth of love.
And in that—trust me—there’s an eternity.

Arabic is an exact and poetic language. It has, for example, two different words to differentiate the span of eternity: azal meaning the beginning and abad meaning the end. Bahá’u’lláh, the Founder of the Bahá’í Faith, uses the terms azal al’zál (‘the beginning that has no beginning’) and abad al’ábidin (‘the end of all ends’) in the Tablet of Ahmad. The line is translated into English as “…from all eternity to all eternity.“

To me, eternity started the day when, as a seventeen-year-old, I first read a prayer written by Bahá’u’lláh; the bolding is mine for emphasis:

My God, my Adored One, my King, my Desire! What tongue can voice my thanks to Thee? I was heedless, Thou didst awaken me. I had turned back from Thee, Thou didst graciously aid me to turn towards Thee. I was as one dead, Thou didst quicken me with the water of life. I was withered, Thou didst revive me with the heavenly stream of Thine utterance which hath flowed forth from the Pen of the All-Merciful...

Now?…fifty years later, I know much more what those words mean.

Thank you for reading From azal to abad. I sincerely hope you have enjoyed it and humbly appreciate your visiting the Book of Pain. As always, I look forward to your comments.

The photograph was taken in Spokane Washington. To see my photography blog, please visit the Book of Bokeh.

j.

Poem, and notes © John Etheridge; all rights reserved. The poem and accompanying notes are licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Work 3.0 Unported License. This applies to all original written work found on this site unless noted otherwise. The attribution claimed under the license is © John Etheridge, https://bookofpain.wordpress.com. The photograph is not licensed for use in any way without the expressed consent of its creator.

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June 10, 2025 · 4:38 pm

Until now

I shot out of the womb
clutching a ticket out of town
and have never since looked back.
Any road ahead, I thought. Forget
the names, the places and faces,
be a mover.

And now I just linger, embracing this spot,
your marker one among many
in this pretty, lonely field.
It’s lovely in its way, restful if I could stay,
restless as I cannot.
So many names from so many places, I think.
I wonder what they looked like.

Thank you for reading Until Now. I sincerely hope you have enjoyed it and humbly appreciate your visiting the Book of Pain. As always, I look forward to your comments.

The photograph was taken in Pennsylvania many years ago. To me it is my first intentional “photograph”…where I saw what I wanted to capture and managed to, more-or-less, do so. To see my photography blog, please visit the Book of Bokeh.

j.

Poem, and notes © John Etheridge; all rights reserved. The poem and accompanying notes are licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Work 3.0 Unported License. This applies to all original written work found on this site unless noted otherwise. The attribution claimed under the license is © John Etheridge, https://bookofpain.wordpress.com. The photograph is © John Etheridge and not licensed for use in any way without the expressed consent of its creator.

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April 12, 2025 · 6:58 pm

Birthdays

You add one and remove one,
it’s the natural course of things.
What you seek is the fairytale balance
(none too many, none too few)
so that as you near division by zero: infinity,
that gift of gifts for the ages.

Thank you for reading Birthdays. I sincerely hope you have enjoyed it and humbly appreciate your visiting the Book of Pain. As always, I look forward to your comments.

The photograph was taken in Scituate, Rhode Island. To see my photography blog, please visit the Book of Bokeh.

j.

Poem, and notes © John Etheridge; all rights reserved. The poem and accompanying notes are licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Work 3.0 Unported License. This applies to all original written work found on this site unless noted otherwise. The attribution claimed under the license is © John Etheridge, https://bookofpain.wordpress.com. The photograph is not licensed for use in any way without the expressed consent of its creator.

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February 1, 2025 · 7:49 pm

Paradox

1

What would it have mattered
the Name You chose?
And yet You chose
the one that was perfect.

2

The only truth I know
is that Truths are many,
the most important being
that there is only One.


Thank you for reading these two Paradox poems. I sincerely hope you have enjoyed them and I humbly appreciate your visiting the Book of Pain. As always, I look forward to your comments.

The photograph was taken at the open air market in Seattle, Washington. To see my photography blog, please visit the Book of Bokeh.

j.

Photograph, and notes © John Etheridge; all rights reserved. The photograph is not licensed for use in any way without the expressed consent of its creator.

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January 28, 2025 · 1:12 am

Hendrix’ “World T.V.”

Well I’m sipping wine
On a lonely crowded jet
Knowing all the time
I’m a fool who ain’t learned yet.

Drown in wine
Am I drowning love?
I see that word fly by,
Written in the clouds above.

Drown in wine
Can’t be late for the show
I see love fly by
Written in the clouds below.

The world’s a T.V.
and Hangups
are commercials


In 2024 I was at the Museum of Popular Culture in Seattle, Washington and got to visit the exhibition of Jimi Hendrix, a scion of the city and one of my musical heroes. Of the many wonderful exhibits there was the poem transcribed above. (If used as lyrics I have never heard any song of his that came close to them.)

I realize I am making a leap in judgement here. The last stanza (about TV) may in fact be a separate song/lyric that Jimi was contemplating but scribbled on the same page. Frankly, the only person who knows for certain is no longer with us.

In any event, I was drawn to the brevity and deep sense of introspection captured here, as well as the idiosyncratic style that was so much his. What a tragedy it was to lose the bright, big, beautiful star shooting across the sky that was Jimi Hendrix!

Thank you for reading Hendrix’ “World T.V.” poem. I sincerely hope you have enjoyed it and I humbly appreciate your visiting the Book of Pain. As always, I look forward to your comments.

The photograph was taken in a mall, somewhere in Seattle, Washington. To see my photography blog, please visit the Book of Bokeh.

j.

Photograph, and notes © John Etheridge; all rights reserved. The photograph is not licensed for use in any way without the expressed consent of its creator.

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January 8, 2025 · 2:27 am

You

The first poem was—with great love and admiration—written for Mme. Ulfet Mustafa, a wonderful, darling lady who long ago took into her heart and home a young, foolish, and very bad French-speaking Canadian, and was, to him, a great example of kindness, refinement, and love.

The second poem explores the relationship between human virtues and Divine attributes.

Thank you for reading the two You poems. I sincerely hope you have enjoyed them and I humbly appreciate your visiting the Book of Pain. As always, I look forward to your comments.

The photograph was taken en route to Milford Sound on the South Island of New Zealand. These mountains were used as the Misty Mountains in The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings film franchises. To see my photography blog, please visit the Book of Bokeh.

j.

Poem, photograph, and notes © John Etheridge; all rights reserved. The poem and accompanying notes are licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Work 3.0 Unported License. This applies to all original written work found on this site unless noted otherwise. The attribution claimed under the license is © John Etheridge, https://bookofpain.wordpress.com. The photograph is not licensed for use in any way without the expressed consent of its creator.

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October 14, 2024 · 9:46 pm

Joy

1

Spring hope from winter despair,
I think, as the leaves begin to turn.
What sprouts is a quality
of the heart, just knowing.

2

I am more through You
in Your merest breath,
than I am through me
in my deepest wish.
Breathe on.

Two poems today, both with the same title.

Thank you for reading both Joy poems. I sincerely hope you have enjoyed them and I humbly appreciate your visiting the Book of Pain. As always, I look forward to your comments.

The photograph was taken looking towards the Dingle Peninsula from Cromane Lower on the Kerry Peninsula, Ireland. To see my photography blog, please visit the Book of Bokeh.

j.

Poem, photograph, and notes © John Etheridge; all rights reserved. The poem and accompanying notes are licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Work 3.0 Unported License. This applies to all original written work found on this site unless noted otherwise. The attribution claimed under the license is © John Etheridge, https://bookofpain.wordpress.com. The photograph is not licensed for use in any way without the expressed consent of its creator.

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September 2, 2024 · 5:45 pm

The road I build

Through it all, please,
after every stone is lifted
and every grade leveled,
after every tear is wept
and everything put in its place,
let me sing not of discipline
(as weighty as that is)
but of something lighter,
as light as it can be,
and broader and louder,
from the deep heart, sung
from far me to nearer Thee.
There, see? A prayer.

‘Abdu’l-Bahá, the son of the Founder of the Baháʼí Faith, was tasked with building the Shrine of the Báb on the slopes of Mount Carmel in Haifa, Israel. This so exposed Him to the attacks of His enemies, and the project was so fraught with such difficulty, that ‘Abdu’l-Bahá later said of the process that He wept every stone of it all into place. What a magnificent example of love and strength He was and is to us!

Thank you for reading The road I build. I sincerely hope you have enjoyed it and humbly appreciate your visiting the Book of Pain. As always, I look forward to your comments.

The photo is of a piece of art created by my dear friend Pier Gustafson, a wonderful artist and calligrapher resident in Boston, Massachusetts. Pier is one of those amazing people with the ability to see art in everything and to produce amazing, delightful, imaginative and moving works from all of it. (Pier is also my vintage fountain pen dealer. But that’s another story.) The photo of the work is also his.

To see my photography blog, please visit the Book of Bokeh.

j.

Poem, and notes © John Etheridge; all rights reserved. The poem and accompanying notes are licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Work 3.0 Unported License. This applies to all original written work found on this site unless noted otherwise. The attribution claimed under the license is © John Etheridge, https://bookofpain.wordpress.com. The photo is © Pier Gustafson and is not licensed for use in any way without the expressed consent of its creator.

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