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Winter Thoughts of Ann Rutledge

Ann Rutledge was apparently Abraham Lincoln’s first love interest. Unfortunately, she was engaged to another man when they met, then died with typhoid fever at age 22. According to a friend, Isaac Cogdal, when asked if he had loved her, Lincoln replied: “It is true―true indeed, I did. I loved the woman dearly and soundly: She was a handsome girl―would have made a good, loving wife … I did honestly and truly love the girl and think often, often of her now.”

Winter Thoughts of Ann Rutledge
by Michael R. Burch

Winter was not easy,
nor would the spring return.
I knew you by your absence,
as men are wont to burn
with strange indwelling fire―
such longings you inspire!

But winter was not easy,
nor would the sun relent
from sculpting ****** images
and how could I repent?
I left quaint offerings in the snow,
more maiden than I care to know.



Ann Rutledge’s Irregular Quilt
by Michael R. Burch

based on “Lincoln the Unknown” by Dale Carnegie

I.
Her fingers “plied the needle” with “unusual swiftness and art”
till Abe knelt down beside her: then her demoralized heart
set Eros’s dart a-quiver; thus a crazy quilt emerged:
strange stitches all a-kilter, all patterns lost. (Her host
kept her vicarious laughter barely submerged.)

II.
Years later she’d show off the quilt with its uncertain stitches
as evidence love undermines men’s plans and unevens women’s strictures
(and a plethora of scriptures.)

III.
But O the sacred tenderness Ann’s reckless stitch contains
and all the world’s felicities: rich cloth, for love’s fine gains,
for sweethearts’ tremulous fingers and their bright, uncertain vows
and all love’s blithe, erratic hopes (like now’s).

IV.
Years later on a pilgrimage, by tenderness obsessed,
Dale Carnegie, drawn to her grave, found weeds in her place of rest
and mowed them back, revealing the spot of Lincoln’s joy and grief
(and his hope and his disbelief).

V.
Yes, such is the tenderness of love, and such are its disappointments.
Love is a book of rhapsodic poems. Love is an grab bag of ointments.
Love is the finger poised, the smile, the Question ― perhaps ― and the Answer?

Love is the pain of betrayal, the two left feet of the dancer.

VI.
There were ladies of ill repute in his past. Or so he thought. Was it true?
And yet he loved them, Ann (sweet Ann!), as tenderly as he loved you.

Keywords/Tags: Abraham Lincoln, Ann Rutledge, history, president, love, lover, mistress, paramour, romance, romantic, quilt, Dale Carnegie
Heidi Johanna Sep 29
Know your promises!
Hold them in your heart
Count them by the night
As they shine to the dark

For as many as you can see
All those little stars
Delight in the waiting
For your joy to come
Jordan Gee Aug 1
on the day of the double funeral I stand
waiting for the rest of me to die,
I am that I am but I harbor a bad disease.
i should be anywhere and be doing anything other
than what i am.
because before Abraham was i am
standing in the empty quarter
reading a funeral manual on the
day of the double sky burial.
i’m poisoned off my pouch of yesterday’s mana.
gums are bleeding this is yesterday’s daily bread.
men cannot live off bread alone
and the jackrabbit horde is coming home
our own locust plague for a new Sahara.
i stand with a hangman’s fracture
lost on the old sermons in the sand.
following my family’s footsteps sadly in the wrong direction,
lost among the marking rocks.
snow leopards of the black blizzard and
my poison pouch of mana.
drowning in the fires we cook a stray dog
reaping all the whirlwinds I sound a 12 foot Tibetan horn
on the day of a double funeral -
perched in the dwelling of the solitude.
#skyBurial
ConnectHook Apr 27
Mammonite pretender, see the Khazar:
Out of place in the Biblical bazaar;
Fattening his financial calf of gold
Maintaining clueless goyim bought and sold
.

Abram the nomad mixed milk with his meat
Walked the Fertile Crescent on his own feet;
Summoned from the Chaldees, uncircumcised
Long before that temple was realized.
From Babylon to Egypt, passing through,
Jerusalem came briefly into view.
He lived. He walked right out of the Archaic
To shatter every legalist’s mosaic.
Beholding now God’s current Middle East,
(Collective funeral more than wedding feast)
The Bedouin seem to model more the way:
hospitable intents at close of day.

Four hundred years would pass before they saw
That wilderness of Sinai and the Law;
Commandments Moses knew could never save.
We judge them by accounts their Torah gave:
Twelve generations later . . . what a joke.
The righteousness consumed in holy smoke
As Israel descended, worse than Cain,
to civil wars on *****’s fruitless plain.
In Judges we behold the steep descent
Read well the signs. Be warned—and then repent.
A scene for every Judaistic dream:
Depravity is worse than it may seem.
Your concubine, dismembered at your door,
May light the shortened fuse of civil war.
He aquí la Santa Muerte. Adórala:
https://connecthook.net/2020/04/27/abram-the-hebrew/
Ylzm Apr 12
In the beginning God parted the waters,
     separating heaven and earth
Abraham parted the pieces,
     and a smoking fiery *** passed in between
Israel walked between the waters,
     covered in smoke and fire
So Israel parted in two:
     one remains and the other lost.
Tizzop Nov 2019
ashima abraham
teenage girl
needed love
desperately

she thought the reason for her
despair might been her longing

while her longing was nothing but
normal and the origin of her
despair might been
fear

one day she met an older guy
his name **** black he a
forensic officer

investigators like him look for
traces under dead body's fingernails
stuff like that

until ashima met **** her
love was exclusively reserved to
her pitbull
his name was branko

a fearsome creature
to be continued
ConnectHook Apr 2018
Circum/stances (slash) foregone
circumvent forebears
circus-schisms of the forefathers
circumferences foreordained . . .

Abrahamic inferences
Feminine foreclosures
Unfabulous infibulations
Equivocating equivalencies . . .

Childbearing foreborne
Preposterous paradigm
Gender agenda return to sender
Hebraic / Pharaonic / Moronic . . .

Abracadabra  
Presto change-o !
One must remain circumspect.
♥ ⚥⛧☭ ✪ ⚢ Ⓐ ❣ ⚧⚩✿ ⚤∅⚧


Haiku wants to say
something in five-seven-five
but now it’s over
nmo May 2017
"Stress is caused by being ‘here’ but wanting to be ‘there’"
that's how a German author defines stress.

I read this quote
and write it down
in that tab I open
secretly at work
to avoid being
seen by my boss.

That tab,
that lives like a refugee,
like everything I like.

Buddha whispers to my ear,
-Attachment is the root of suffering-
with his funny accent
-The richest man is not he who has the most, but he who needs the least.-

I call into question
my arms race
against myself.
That cold war that started years ago
and never ended.

Yahve sets a
bush on fire
on the park
and talks to me.
He talks about
the promised land.
The same land he once promised
to Abraham,
to Isaac,
to Jacob,
to Moises,
to my grandparent,
to my parents.

And I then remember,
I am also a part of this exodus.

-the end justifies the means-
I repeat this to myself,
like a mantra,
trying to convince myself
as I see the parts of me
being left in the path.
The goal blends
into the horizon
like a mirage.

I see how other boys
come closer.
They are younger,
and run faster,
and better.

And I once was
one of those boys,
ready to run for days.
Privileged.
My parents ensure
my path has less rocks
and that my wall
(that wall people who run long distances know)
was lower and softer.

I see the corpses in the path
of the persons who weren't even able to see
the end.

My life is a constant wanting
to reach those lands
while I hate the desert
under my feet.
mjad Apr 2017
whenever I say it
your name feels
like what I imagine
the drop of water would taste like
to the rich man in hell asking Abraham
to just dip his tongue in
to ease the burning
Shades31 Dec 2016
Standing
alone
Darkness
and flame
Devoured
his soul
Crippled
and maim
Losing
his mind
as shadows
take over
Losing
all luck
like a small
four-leaf clover
Consumed
by fire,
turning
to ash
A fool
with bounty
turned in
for cash
Betrayed,
back-stabbed
and left
to die
"You were
ignorant
Now you wonder
why...?"
"You trusted
too quickly
Trampled on
Used
Demotivated
Attacked
Demoralised
Abused"
"You wanted
out
but got dragged
back in
Trying
to shout
but end up
in sin"
"One day
there was
a pure
little child
who, when
he passed you
always smiled
Until
the day
he stood
in the meadow
A flame
appeared
Engulfed him
in shadow
Smoke,
impure
as black
as death
destroyed
his body
like crystal
****.
It looked
to him
like help
arrived
And so
into
the flames
he dived
For a
short while
he took
comfort
until
he saw
he had been
hurt"
His body
turned
into a
crisp
His soul
into a
will-o-wisp
Existed
in
this world
no more
Burnt
it all -
to his
core
until
he had
to eventually
succumb
to the freedom
of drugs
which made him
numb
He lost
his sense
of feeling -
pain
No longer
could he,
greatness
attain
His life
was turned
round 'n
round
until he
wound up
in the
ground
Mentally
- emotionally -
lost,
distorted
Physically
beat
body
contorted
Stuffed
in a hole
Forgotten
about
His very
existence,
a topic
of doubt
Lost in a
world
of shadow
and pain
Where the one
source of light
is the one thing
that drains
Despite
the blazing
flames'
heat
his body -
stiffed
in icy
defeat
A light
so dark
it dis-
emboweled
a kid
who now
from centre
howled
Whose body
was now
completely
disfigured
Whose soul
became
utterly
dismembered
Devoured
by
cannibal -
butcher
He lost
the way
towards
a future
Smog
and smoke
that cloud
his sight
He ended
up
upon a
great height
He knew
that he
had lost
the fight
Below him
was
an ocean
of white
His only option
was to
fall
For there was
no way
to, down
crawl
He stood
staring
at his
defeat
The oceans
were to
about, him
eat
A soft,
sweet land
up in
the sky
Until
you fall
right through
and die
By water
or by
solid
ground
His fate
and soul
were now
unbound
The white
turned to
a sinister
grey
This was
to be
his final
day
And then
to black
did they
then changed
He knew
that this
would be
a dange'
A scorching,
deep flame
from it
arose
And just
like magma
on earth
flows
And like
Abraham
before
the king
But in
contrast
this fire
will cling
And no
small ant
will come
him save
No place
for him
to find
safe have'
A leap
of faith
over
the cliff
His body
turning
lame
from stiff
"Avoid
the flame
into
the river"
His strong
life-force
now slowly
wither
Trying
to hold
the land
in the sky
He thought
to himself
"I'm too young
to die"
As slowly
through clouds
his body
fell
Into
the flames -
the pit
of hell
And like
Moses
before
the sea
Except
that he
would drown
and be
lost
to thought
and mem-
ory
He wanted
to
die eas-
ily
And like
Lot's wife
who turned
on back
Instead
of coals
It was
haze - black
That turned
him back
into
the dust
"This 's what
I get
for over-
trust"
His life
will end
in a
swift fall
The fire
which
promises
all -
The world,
money,
drugs
and fame.
But
truthfully
it is
just flame
He trusted
it
and let
them steal
all his
life
seemed-innocent
deal
Filled
with regret
as slowly
he sinks
It will
be over
soon 's he
blinks
Fading
Dying
It's time
to go
They took
it all
but just
for show
He was then
placed
6-feet
under
and from
the world
did they
him sunder
Thanks to ThePoet/Sarah Ahmed for the inspiration to part of this poem (and to many other of my poetry)
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