New Poetry by Sarah Tisdale

I don’t consider myself a poet. Occasionally a songwriter, but barely that. The occasion of this poem was the commissioning of a new church.

As the earth falls into a deep slumber, we sit in anticipation and stillness.

This coming Sunday marks the beginning of Advent, the yearly remembrance and celebration of the coming of Jesus, the Son of God. It's...

2020 started off so promising.  Our son had a meltdown-free 1st birthday party, the Titans kept Tom Brady and the Patriots from another ...

It’s apropos that I’ve been rereading C. S. Lewis’s The Screwtape Letters with a friend now. Weekly, we pore over a couple of chapters...

Tonight is the night! WORD + SONG is here! In celebration, we’re giving you another little preview of what’s going down this evening in...

Orchid – Josie Koznarek All the time I knew you carried weight upon your back in every tremor when you spoke, in each “I could never…”...

It’s a great time to give you a preview of things to come! Matthew Clark, one of the three featured artists headlining Foundling House’s...

This is a collection of laments I wrote for a worship service I led with a friend in my church. Modern worship is a bit too positive...

For several years now, Jacob and Melissa Stock have been running a delightful, slightly otherworldly retreat center in Strawberry Plains,...

First things first: spoiler alert. This is going to get messy, because I got messy. I got the last good seat at the 9:30 showing of...

Heartworks is a brand new, up-and-coming organization dedicated to serving the refugee and resettled population in Knoxville through art...

Screenshot from the video for “Snow” by Sleeping at Last The day before December began, my grandma slipped into eternity. She’d spent 100...

The old man is snoring again. It’s the only sound that escapes his lips these days. So she lies awake listening, wishing she could...

Original Photo by Adam Whipple The road to the lake is so twisted that one stretch is named “The Dragon’s Tail.” Our truck, bristling...

I sat in the passenger seat of my friends’ car as Indiana beamed under a rare mild July day outside. Cornfields sped by and washed into...

Charlotte Brontë’s masterwork Jane Eyre is something most of us read in grade school. We remember the gilded Victorian prose laid over...

“Vulnerable” by Kate Hinson I write. Or I should say, I used to write, and I loved figuring out what I thought and felt through the...

On the west corner of Burwell Avenue and McMillan Street in Knoxville, Tennessee, sat a vacant lot. To the north, Sharp’s Ridge rose in a...