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Cat Fiske Feb 2016
I believe in things
they say,
"not to, believe in,"
10w
Silverthorn Feb 2016
Cold stone feet of mercy save me
Take my broken will
And cleanse it
Cold I sit and wait and hear you
Not a word comes from my lips
Endless are the hours waiting
Nothing new but old old songs
All around the mountains bowing
Crying out their cold love song
Loneliness is worse than torture
Alone I have no song to sing
Stark white eyes of healing take me
Still as moonlight on the stone
Crying out of voices long lost
Where my soul so longs to go
Restless helpless weary traveler
Sit awhile at love’s cold feet
Waiting on the dawn to save you
Joining in on my heartbreak
Nothing stirring ceaseless whirring
Fills the mind but not the soul
Love creates things when it’s living
Dead it leaves the road to wind
Pale face of longing call me
Bring me to your stone embrace
Sitting at your feet I wonder
Why the stars are hard to trace
Lemon drops, I think not
But cold bright teardrops out of place
Trees are groaning stone hearts moaning
Bending down like backs of man
Love likes leaving not receiving
With the wind it flees the world
Silent raving begs for saving
Let your wings enfold me now
Touch me softly, brush and rock me
Save me in your stone embrace
Julie Grenness Jan 2016
Dear Mary, Queen of Heaven above,
Please bless us with the peace of doves.
You showed us the meaning of true love,
Your beauty is like none before,
Bless us now, as in times of yore,
Your soul shines through your smiling eyes,
Bless us all from Heaven's skies,
Please bless us with the peace of doves,
Showing us the meaning of true love.

                                              AMEN
                                              Planet Earth.
Feedback welcome.
Cat Fiske Jan 2016
we drove by saint mary's all the time.
and this was no different today,
than the last,

but I saw mary,
in the window that night,
and it was all a flash as we drove by,

as I said we did all the time,
but this time,
I saw the ****** in the night,

each and everyday I wonder,
why did I see her,
why didn't I greet her,

I wonder why she was there,
or if she was as scared,
as me,

I question myself everyday,
like did you really see,
Mother Mary?

I cannot explain what I saw,
Mary had not spoken to me,
as she just appeared to me for a moment,

as I was shocked to see her disappear so quickly,
the view of the hospital window she was in was fading,
I clutched a set of my grandmother rosary beads she gave me to fix,

in my hands there all I felt the whole car ride back,
as I kept bringing back the image of Mary,
and her outstretched hands,

the silhouette won't fade from my memory,
I constantly try to find out why,
she decided to appear to me,

we drive by saint mary's all the time,
and I look for her in the window before it fades away,
as we drive by,

and I haven't seen the room light up,
since the time she appeared to me,
but I will still wait for her every time we drive by.
it's true. and I will look for her every time we drive by, until I die.
Cat Fiske Jan 2016
this day was no different than any other,
as we went through the tunnel onto the highway,
I think back to this mornings homily,
how the deacon spoke of this city's cross on the mountain,
I hung onto the rosary beads around my neck,
as if I was still looking for some answers,
and as ignored the smell of exhaust fumes,
as they mixed with the scent of chain smokers,
like a disastrous duo,
and focused my body outside the car window,
clenching my rosary beads I saw the cross on the mountain,
Holding them up the the window,
my cross covered the one on the mountain like it was its lost child.
for five minutes I felt like I had nothing to ask anyone,
I felt like my life was okay,
we drove into another tunnel,
and took a right on the exit ramp,
I never felt more peace in my life,
then I did as we drove home
that night,
it's true.
A P Taylor Oct 2015
Always say, hitchers be wary...

Rain drives eve, dark assassin
Pitied her, my new companion

Soaking wet in dress pale blue
Dropped her in Archer Avenue

Her shadow gone, in car though
Inside phosphorescently aglow

While clouds tumbled, chill scary
Had I driven Resurrection Mary?
Rm is a ghost which is said to seek rides to the Chicago cemetery
“Graceless Ravens Envy You,” by Eric Robert Nolan

Revel in apostasy.
You are the black dove, hovering
High in an inklike arc.

Blacker, even, than
coal-colored wolves in onyx lines seeking
quarry at starless midnight.

More ebon, even, than
narrow sable blacksnakes staying
cravenly in shade at noon.

Darker, even, than
murders of crows, newly legion at Autumn, amassing
among saw-wing martins at dusk.

You’re blacker, even, then the rooks.
Graceless ravens envy you.

Remember your rebirth?
The sun rose,
Your birdsong changed and then
the questions flew from your beak
faster even than the wrens?
Faster than you could fly?
For a moment, they rendered
all the world obsidian.

Remember your feathers burning?
Sunlight striking your wings and then
all the slow alabaster there
singing, quickening into
aerodynamic black?
Remember the flock’s suspicion?

Remember your siblings, the nest?
Remember when
all their pearl heads turned
their backlit crowns in morning sun
ringed so thinly in shining ivory?

Their song was interrupted,
Yours was made a query —
empiricism’s aria.
Flustered, they fluttered
at all the low notes.
There were all immaculate;
you were the color of night.

Now you arc alone —
soar and sin and sing,
unrepentant one.

Somewhere an ordinary dog,
awakening from shadow,
howls at the sun.

(c) Eric Robert Nolan 2015
Sorrow Cain Sep 2015
[ ]
Mary, Mary, quite contrary,
How does your garden grow?
With breaking heart, torn apart,
And sharpened blades in a row.
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