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Nat Lipstadt Feb 10
Our Holy Communion of Words

you wrest my words away, with tongue and teeth,
running their sounds out with your soft tonguing,
gentling their enunciated freedom to float airborne,
but not before,
your teeth hone them sharper, wiser, better,
before freeing the letters
for life eternal rebirthing,
swapping, warping words,
into a
a holy communion

then with thy lips closing after them,
wishing them godspeed,
safe travels to yet another’s eye imbibing,
until released once more,
traveling from souls you likely
never to meet, embrace, greet,
but to whom you have formed a
direct intangible tangling,
shared wafered words,
a holy communion*


your words,

gut punch me,
how could you know,
you there beside me when in darkened hours
the sun shone brightly, illuminating with bent light
our crevices and our crevasses,
your, words, written,
stun me into crazy, as if
you were within my interior
a cacophony exposed for all to hear,
my grunts & oofs,
visceral, too real, and
my actual tears cascade unfiltered
into the cup of our tangible entangling,
salted & starry*

our holiest communion yet!

Fri Feb 9,
inspired by Audra McDonald,
this poem came in a single short breath i taken,,
and left just as quickly
single, speedy insight
jǫrð Jul 2023
In sanguine devotion
I give this body
for your
until my river
runs dry
until my soil
grows barren
until my sky
turns ashen
until my blaze
fades to ember
The History: Praise be
So we made love and flew up into the sky
Where the clouds caressed our shimmering bodies and the stars welcomed us home.
There we stayed, resting...
In silent ecstasy as the universe pulsated with the heartbeat of every soul
Not a sound was heard
As celestial bodies moved in silent ancient accord...

"It is time," We said... at long last
"To return to that place from long ago
Where all is not as it should be
Where confusion holds
And fear abides."

"We must return there,
To walk amongst those who would know the truth
And tell them of the beauty behind the veil."
I wrote this in April 2016. I don't remember writing it or know where the inspiration came from. The first line of the poem read "never forget this place..."
Water to wine and wine to precious blood
The Lord transfigures; taken at the flood,
    The dregs of outrageous fortune, once imbibed,
Will be like compost to a growing bud.  

So, drink and happy be, for all is well
In Paradise, where living waters swell
    The stilly stream by quiet pastures green,
And sheep in peace and perfect weather dwell.
Steve Page Dec 2021
God said, come now
and let us mystery together,
fire and phoenix together,
rhythm together, step together,
be danced and held together.  

Let us rest in my meadow,
feast to our pleasure
and pour to our brimful altogether.

Come let us be here together.
A rift off Isaiah 1:18
Thursday Night

praises turned crucifixion,
a mother's milk gone sour
to boil its lamb son alive.
We lament, and remember
(upon this Thursday night)
the actual retail price paid,
the victory won from defeat.
James E. Roethlein ©2021
Jim is the author of two books of poetry "Musing on the Cricket Game of Life Part 1 1\2" and "An Extravagant Way of Saying Nothing" both available on Amazon
Ashley Kaye Jul 2020
Breakfast for two is true

Twin mugs full plates
the disshelved kitchen

My one yolk eyes me;
its sunny stare brightens
the awkward lack
of intimacy.

Sipping orange juice in lieu
of the morning after,
the passing closeness
a treasure all its own.
Michael R Burch Mar 2020
by Michael R. Burch

There was a moment
  without the sound of trumpets or a shining light,
    but with only silence and darkness and a cool mist
      felt more than seen.
      I was eighteen,
    my heart pounding wildly within me like a fist.
  Expectation hung like a cry in the night,
and your eyes shone like the corona of a comet.

There was an instant . . .
  without words, but with a deeper communion,
    as clothing first, then inhibitions fell;
      liquidly our lips met
      —feverish, wet—
    forgotten, the tales of heaven and hell,
  in the immediacy of our fumbling union . . .
when the rest of the world became distant.

Then the only light was the moon on the rise,
and the only sound, the communion of sighs.

With all the understandable gloom, doom and despair over the coronavirus, I was reminded of this early poem of mine that used the term "corona" in a much more positive light. I wrote this poem around age 18 and it has been published by Grassroots Poetry and Poetry Webring. Keywords/Tags: Corona, coronavirus, touch, union, communion, sighs, expectation, unity, trumpets, heart, pounding, ***, arousal, union, ecstasy, consummation, consecration, omen, comet, shooting star, talisman, moonrise, moon rising
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