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 Dec 2024
Gerry Sykes
When God wrote me, she didn't write a cog —
as I was knit together in the womb —
a brass serrated wheel, escarpment tooth,
or part of the machine that moves the wealth,
of poor exploited people to the rich.

She did not see a lever in the church
a fulcrum in doctrinal power play:
preside at Masses - tick; play nicely- tock;
and lead the parish council meetings- clunk;
then grow the paying congregation – thunk.

She painted me a seed, organic, whole,
to grow in a lush forest, green and tall,
a tree to crack the strong foundation stone:
I'll smash the rock and sow a Kingdom’s germ.
A poem about our purpose in life from, putting a previous free verse poem into blank verse.
Its content deals with similar themes to Swinburne's "Beneath a crucifix" but from a very different perspective.
 Dec 2024
ryn
Grant him this night
For he longs for the cold embrace

As he lays haphazardly
In a universe seemingly displaced

Swallow whole
And serve nothingness like you once did

Cast the black
For he’s all ready and intrepid
 Dec 2024
Nat Lipstadt
~ for the grandson of an extraordinary man~
<>
the supply chain, which unless
you’re a logistics aficionado,
is  
alot of ve-hicles, planes,
trains, ocean going monster ships,
& shaking hands of humans, of a
Heinz variety of colors,
who give nary a moment to what
it is they are moving across a planet

all miraculous in the ordinary
schema, but when you slump
in the recliner, and think about
chains, and the reach extraordinary

you issue a curse of admiration and
lean back and think, with luck,
I’ll never have to move ever again,

and more moment’s preserved,
to serve and be served,
for all us deserving,

to let words and visions get
passed around, and the supply
chain unchains
the human soul for
the best thing us you~mans can truly
produce,
the art of new creation


4:07am
 Dec 2024
Caroline Shank
It's as if my life was a package forgotten on the side

of a back road.

The chance of being plucked out and found even interesting,

unconcerned.

The name addressed to Hell.


Battered by lifes footballs
the sunscorched wrapping illegible.
To love so much the
Contents arrive in Hell.
Go on. I am not done with you

So says the
Call of the Universe.
Your tears are large.
The last of my life.
I won't go on. I will
stumble through

the bramble and thistles.

You saved me once
when I believed

In a destiny.
For such a short time

No
chance of being plucked out and found even interesting, unconcerned.
The name addressed to Hell.

Battered by lifes footballs the sunscorched wrapping illegible.
To love so much the
Contents arrive in Hell.

Go on. I am not done with you
So says the

Call of the Universe.
Your tears are large.
The last of my life.
I won't go on. I will
stumble through the bramble and thistles.
You saved me once when I believed
In a destiny.


For such a short time.

Caroline Shank
 Dec 2024
Liana
Our stomachs weren't made to be flat
They were made to keep our food

Our arms weren't made to be thin
They were made to hold the ones we love

Our noses weren't made to be small and cute
They were made to smell the world

Our thighs weren't made be skinny
They were made to help us walk

Your body is being a body
Thats what it's supposed to do
I need to remind myself that
I think so do you
Looked in the mirror last night right after my shower and thought of this.

(This note is written by the mirror you dropped and broke but didn't give you bad luck for seven years. People drop things ometimes, it's okay.)
 Dec 2024
onlylovepoetry
~a companion poem to
Marry Me! -(I am-in-love-with-you) (1)
~
wherein was writ:

“here I stop
lest I die of  bursting, and yet I weep
for us, for you,
no longer
read my poetry”

<>

another winter’s day cruelty,
for this wretched refuse of a
former man
who
once could,
who even deemed
owner of a loving teeming,
who adored kneeling,
before love’s altar,
sacrificially, heroically

once in possession of
amazing grace, (2)
but now no longer such
in his scriptures
deeded,

for our save-by-day ,
appears, before my eyes,
so informing my love permit
has now time~expired

I once was found,
but not
once more,
but
once again,
refamiliarized with
loss
wretched and wrenched,
so I punch up at the sky,
and the sky,
like you, my love,
doesn’t punch back,
and now we are in
aggrieved agree:

there is no returning
to where
we graced each other,
so one more poem I’ll
prepare
so let it be,
the “we”
will be momentarily -
but not ! ever lastingly

but for a well~timed
very finite infinity
be returned
to coexist
and let
grace be extended
even surreptitiously

for we
to separate,
sub divide our souls,
in a graceful manner:

why this last act,
a hallmark of
what once
stood for
us,
was,
and perhaps then,
you will read:


my only love poetry
once moreover,
with com-passion
and even tiny teeny seconds
of memorized affection,
and that would be an
amazing grace
(1)) https://hellopoetry.com/poem/4902749/marry-me-i-am-in-love-with-you/
(2)
Amazing grace,

how sweet the sound
That saved a wretch like me
I once was lost, but now I'm found
Was blind, but now I see
'Twas grace that taught my heart to fear
And grace my fears relieved
How precious did that grace appear
The hour I first believed
Through many dangers, toils, and snares
We have already come
'Twas grace that brought us safe thus far
And grace will lead us home
When we've been there ten thousand years
Bright shining as the sun
We've no less days to sing God's praise
Than when we've first begun
Than when we've first begun
 Dec 2024
ryn
As the ink grows a tad eager,
the heart beats a little faster.
To free the catch in my throat,
is a folly that I never could learn.
And this fire in my being that has my tongue...
forever could burn.
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