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I am convinced
That if all mankind
Could only gather together
In one circle
Arms on each other's shoulders
And dance, laugh and cry
   Then much
     of the tension and burden
       of life
     Would fall away
In the knowledge that
We are all children
Needing and wanting
Each other's
Comfort and
We are all children
Searching for love
Give me my scallop shell of quiet,
My staff of faith to walk upon,
My scrip of joy, immortal diet,
My bottle of salvation,
My gown of glory, hope’s true gage,
And thus I’ll take my pilgrimage.

  Blood must be my body’s balmer,
No other balm will there be given,
Whilst my soul, like a white palmer,
Travels to the land of heaven;
Over the silver mountains,
Where spring the nectar fountains;
And there I’ll kiss
The bowl of bliss,
And drink my eternal fill
On every milken hill.
My soul will be a-dry before,
But after it will ne’er thirst more;
And by the happy blissful way
More peaceful pilgrims I shall see,
That have shook off their gowns of clay,
And go apparelled fresh like me.
I’ll bring them first
To slake their thirst,
And then to taste those nectar suckets,
At the clear wells
Where sweetness dwells,
Drawn up by saints in crystal buckets.

  And when our bottles and all we
Are fill’d with immortality,
Then the holy paths we’ll travel,
Strew’d with rubies thick as gravel,
Ceilings of diamonds, sapphire floors,
High walls of coral, and pearl bowers.

  From thence to heaven’s bribeless hall
Where no corrupted voices brawl,
No conscience molten into gold,
Nor forg’d accusers bought and sold,
No cause deferr’d, nor vain-spent journey,
For there Christ is the king’s attorney,
Who pleads for all without degrees,
And he hath angels, but no fees.
When the grand twelve million jury
Of our sins and sinful fury,
‘Gainst our souls black verdicts give,
Christ pleads his death, and then we live.
Be thou my speaker, taintless pleader,
Unblotted lawyer, true proceeder,
Thou movest salvation even for alms,
Not with a bribed lawyer’s palms.
And this is my eternal plea
To him that made heaven, earth, and sea,
Seeing my flesh must die so soon,
And want a head to dine next noon,
Just at the stroke when my veins start and spread,
Set on my soul an everlasting head.
Then am I ready, like a palmer fit,
To tread those blest paths which before I writ.
 Jul 2011 F J McCarthy
Ben Pratt
Lightning screams
Across the sky.
Thunder roars.
The Angels cry.
The Gods enraged
At our hate
Raise our Demons,
To seal our Fate.

The sky, is grey.
The ground ****** red.
The crosses clutched.
Our kin long dead.

Cause unknown
Excuses made.
The life of the wounded
Slowly fades.

A single tear upon the ground
I have shed,
Next to where I see my friend,
Lying dead.
Although it's sad,
This is war.
The irony is; Living
That's what we are dying for.

Hope went by and Peace went by
   And would not enter in;
Youth went by and Health went by
   And Love that is their kin.

Those within the house shed tears
   On their bitter bread;
Some were old and some were mad,
   And some were sick a-bed.

Gray Death saw the wretched house
   And even he passed by—
“They have never lived,” he said,
   “They can wait to die.”
Waves are the sea’s white daughters,
And raindrops the children of rain,
But why for my shimmering body
Have I a mother like Pain?

Night is the mother of stars,
And wind the mother of foam —
The world is brimming with beauty,
But I must stay at home.
I know and treasure the love you hold for me
And my heart beats back to yours
How thrilling to peruse the pages of ecstasy
That your heart writes
And mine adores

I read living lines that pierce my waking heart
Upon each lovely page I see
Each word justly claims myself to be a part
Of you
As you are, of me

Because I know you love me unquestionably
And my heart beats back to yours
I continue reading these lines with glee
That your heart writes
And mine adores

Such powerful writing a heart can display
When a heart beats back in return
How thrilling to peruse these pages each day
Watch love growing
As they turn
Copyright *Neva Flores @2010
As snow does to a fire that runs
Blue white Ophelia floats
Mad with love as magnificent as snow
And among water lilies
Star which melts away
The wind kisses her *******
Shivering willows
A nest of mad kisses
Curves of her back
In each soft corner
From violet forests
His sweet brow
On the seascape
The calm black water
Black moss embroidered
Her great veils rising
Why the goldenrod stars
Love her reflection madly
The rivers are a sail
Shadow flowers with bale
Scented twilight
A pearl sky
Copyright Heather Mirassou 2010
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