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looked at you for too long
and then i realized
you are human, too

fallible
uncertain
flawed

piously pined for
palatial splendor i
placed in my dreams of you,
imperfect you

and it's no ones fault
a figure headed facade
fabricated by figments
of my frivolous imagination

put you on a pedestal
made you divine
made you holy

you, the ceiling
high above my head
and i, looking up
in the sistine chapel

untouchable
untarnished

couldn't see the cracks
beneath the varnish

then, close enough to study
a faint fresco with critical eyes
fantasy faded in the fault lines
of your frowning face

looked for too long
until i realized
you were just as broken as me

a collection of shattered pieces
shrouded and shy
once a shrine
now a shriek

wide eyes on you
a sinner, still
i called you sacred

ignoring the nature of
the irreverent, the profane

liked the luster
of longing lingering
on my lips
when i breathed your name

the veil torn
the truth beheld
and you are not god

gambling grief and
gleaming gloom
thought i could be
the sun to your moon

majesty to malignancy
momentarily merciful
moreover cruel

monstrous mr monsoon
after all, human, too
nabi 나비 Nov 2018
i stared at those stained glass doors
and it made me think about how i used to make them with you
it made me think about how i wish i could still be making that art
how i wish you were still here
so you could see how I've turned out
i wish you could meet her
i don't know what her and i are but she means everything to me
and i think you would've liked her
because i certainly do
that little chapel at the hospital
it makes me think of you and her and a little bit of everything
that colorful glass makes me wish you were still here
it makes me wish that i could understand her more
it makes me realize that i truly am lost in love with her
and that's terrifying to me but i know you would've loved to hear me talk about all of how this feels
i wish i were still making stained glass up in the room upstairs
maybe i could make her something, i feel like she would like that
it made me think about how i wish i had found spirituality sooner
because honestly it has made a world of difference for me
and only for the greater
i wish i were more open about that with her
because she's so ****** chill about that **** and you would be so baffled

i wish i had had the courage to just walk through those chapel doors earlier
i know i don't believe in that sorta thing
but i would've loved to see the stained glass that lay beyond that door
maybe i could've pondered upon the future in there
thought about a wedding in the future that probably won't happen in a church
thought about how it would've been to witness you two interacting
thought about everything that's been puzzling my mind as of late
but i didn't step into the chapel
and i just ponder outside of the space of believing
Chloe Mar 2018
what a strange sight to see,
sunlight streaming through windows;
the gentle touch of fiery radiance,
falling on silver pillars and plastic handles
draping over broken plastic seats
with the same ceremony and caress
inside a bus as it would in a chapel  

on this quiet journey homeward,
I have found peace
apologies for not being active lately, I started a full time job after school ended that's been really tiring. the inspiration for this poem came to me on the bus ride home, watching the world go by.
Nate Helwig Feb 2018
Double hinged doors can only swing so wide.
Jester all of us, beckon us to place a token of our time.
Light the halls, embroidered walls make them stand tall.
For without our greed, it would crumble with ease.
All of us bring our broken will.
No place for that heavenly grace.
Disgrace to our race.
White wand in hand.
They unleash the “lord’s commands”
“Follow with a blind eye”, oh what a surprise.
Written word followed by the glorious herd makes them heard.
Abracadabra! Everyone claps. We are all cleansed of our deeds.
A messenger of the purist form laid down to die, for us.
His messages, “Stone is rigid, nothing is forgiven. “
“You lead! Place the crown upon your cranium.”
“Show me how much you can explain to him.”
His last words, “With arms open wide, I accept this punishment.”
Priest lying down his book, boils to ashes.
We knew this would last.
Our lord has gone.
Doors open wide.
Black.
G Rog Rogers Aug 2017
She came to me
within a dream
Somewhere there
betwixt and between
Where all you see
cannot always be believed

And all is more
beautiful than
can ever be
known or seen

My eyes were amazed
by the wondrous sight
She standing before me
as though devine

Crying Her tears
of golden light

Her words were sure
Her grief then true
I could not begin
to comprehend
what I saw
and what I knew

In this moment
She was
perfect and pure

She wept as She spoke
of a great disgrace
The destruction of
an Holy Place
where We once
there were wed

A sacred chapel
where solemn vows
were said

Gone it's gone
it has been destroyed
Her cries of anguish
tore at my heart

I could not believe
such tragedy occurred
My words were
They couldn't
They never would

This is just a rumor
that you have heard

The chapel is protected
by law and truth
and by the powers
from all above

She was there
but just a little while
My eyes then opened
and I recognized
She had been with me
She had appeared

This was the moment
I knew it all was
so very real

I then heard
the blast of horns
from the great ship's
on the LA Bay

And knew I must find out
I must go back
and see someday

I traveled far
I journeyed high
But still I wondered
if the chapel stood
Knowing I must
go back there

To know what must
and should be seen
to be understood

Time then went on
as several years
they came and then went
I remembered and decided
I must go back to see
if this Holy place
might still exist

As though on
a mission sent

My travels went beyond
and then I returned
to that city where
my life there once was

I went there to see
If the chapel remained
But when I arrived
the chapel was gone

Real and a fact
The evidence seen
A vision of an Angel
who seemingly Devine
therein descended within
a lucid dream

The purest
of knowledge
The absolute Truth.

Mystery or Mysticism
It is all just what it seems.

-R.

2.22.17

-LA

-4MAR
©2017
Terry Collett Apr 2016
In the small school chapel
Martha stood in front
of the black wood crucifix
high on the wall

if she stood on tiptoe
she could just about
touch the plaster paris
Crucified's
nailed feet

the chapel was empty
no sound
smell of incense
and old bricks
and aged bodies
of old nuns who once
fumed here

Martha stood on tiptoe
and kissed the Crucified's
nailed feet with her lips
soft lips on paster feet

Jesus I want
to be your bride
want to hold
you close
want to
have you near
let your ears hear
she whispered

she went back
on her feet
watched the Crucified

His arms outstretched
His nailed hands
like claws
His eyes looking skywards
not particularly hairy
like her father was
not under the arms
or chest
she mused

what are you doing here
Martha Maguire?
A nun said
creeping up
behind her
having slid in
like a shadow
from the cloister

Martha turned around
talking to the Crucified
Martha said
eyeing the tubby nun

why are you not
in class?
The nun said

Martha turned back
to gaze at the Crucified
wanted to talk to Him
she said

not during class-time
the nun said
now get
on to your class
and don't be here
during school time
understand me?

Martha gazed
at the Crucified's eyes
heavenward gazing
His hands nailed cruelly

if I could
Martha said
I'd unnail Him
take Him
in my arms
and hug Him
to being better

the nun frowned
gazed at the back
and backside
of the Maguire girl

will you get yourself
off to class Maguire
I won't tell you again
or you'll being having
a ruler across
your palms once more

Martha sighed
she thought she saw
the Crucified eye her
but couldn't be sure.
A IRISH SCHOOL GIRL IN CHAPEL IN 1963 AND THE NUN
CJ Suitt Dec 2015
On the night
I learn about Demitri Allison I smoke and I cry
And I drink

And I try

And I talk

And I laugh

Like I ain’t me

I look in the mirror

And I look in the mirror

And I see

And I look

Again

I reflect

And I respect

This shell that leaves me without helmet

Exposed

To the elements

Prison

Statistics

Poor

Health

And I wanna go home

Let my family know I am not

A brown boy falling from

3000 miles up
My response to hearing about the death of Demitri Allison a Black college football player who jumped off a dorm room at UNC Chapel Hill.
Jordan Fischer Oct 2015
I stumbled upon a chapel last night
Inside was a man with a mirrored face gesturing for me to enter
He does not speak but continues to motion and reflect my demeanour 
Hesitant to oblige, I survey the inner-workings of the religious structure
No where in my sight lies the truth
A building built on lies and stories
Fables and myths 
The man says " You feel lost little sheep, please flock to the power, for I am you, no longer shall you scour, you found yourself within these walls"
I reply 
" You are not me, you are a just a reflection, A manifestation caused by fears and I will make peace with what I am by searching inside of me 
Not flocking like sheep to a fabled entity"
Aparna Mar 2013
Loud minds in the silent chapel,
Echoes of desperate prayers.

Hope settled in their seeing eyes.
Words that their ears, caught not.
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