#nun
a filthy habit
drying in the sun / spotted
with little bits of nun
May 3, 2021
May 3, 2021 at 10:14 AM UTC
This is the cup of the new and everlasting covenant
Shed for you and for all, so that our sins may be forgiven...
Do this in memory of Me.
In memory of the spooky parochial school halls
In memory of the wizened nuns, quietly obedient
In memory of the over-simplicity of rules
In memory of false piety laced with hypocrisy
In memory of crushing inadequacy
Do this, in memory of me, the child.
In memory of the child whose uniform never quite fit
Whose body developed too early
Who had trouble making friends
Who didn't have enough discipline
Do this, do that, don't do this, don't do that
So many tiny rules and expectations
to love, serve and obey
Oct 22, 2020
Oct 22, 2020 at 12:18 AM UTC
Come!
by Michael R. Burch
Will you come to visit my grave, I wonder,
in the season of lightning, the season of thunder,
when I have lain so long in the indifferent earth
that I have no girth?
When my womb has conformed to the chastity
your anemic Messiah envisioned for me,
will you finally be pleased that my *** was thus rendered
unpalatable, disengendered?
And when those strange loathsome organs that troubled you so
have been eaten by worms, will the heavens still glow
with the approval of God that I ended a maid―
thanks to a *****
And will you come to visit my grave, I wonder,
in the season of lightning, the season of thunder?
Keywords/Tags: sonnet, god, religion, Christianity, puritanism, chastity, ****** virginity, nun, *** lust, desire, death, grave, passion, lightning, thunder, earth, womb, tomb, worms, organs, maid, maidenhead, *****
Apr 28, 2020
Apr 28, 2020 at 1:10 AM UTC
Nun Fun Undone!
by Michael R. Burch
after Richard Moore
Abbesses’
recesses
are not for excesses!
Published by Brief Poems. Keywords/Tags: epigram, humor, light verse, doggerel, nun, fun, undone, abbesses, recesses, excesses
Apr 19, 2020
Apr 19, 2020 at 4:03 AM UTC
A nun rests her head against the broken headstone, wishing to transfer all cracks in this headstone to her own small heaven clad head.
She prays "darling I wish you could belong in this world of glass water and walk among the land that looks of spilled grains, I wish I could have prayed away your pain, but alas your golden lights gone and it's all in pure vain, the gold frames kept me in the stone house as you roamed the glass cave just out of my silver gaze, Now you swim in butter lakes and live among the crimson dolls" The nun pulled out of what was left in her small pocket, an item of love and fear "I had to borrow this, my dear. I apologize" the nun said with a voice made from an ugly green As the nun walked from the broken headstone, tearing up a porclin doll. She kissed goodbye to the no longer beating heart of her colbat blue daughter and never looked back.
Feb 15, 2020
Feb 15, 2020 at 12:50 AM UTC
Hands leaving passionate marks
for a crying nun
that has sinned her life away.
Let her pray instead of running away.
Let her cry warm wasteful tears.
***** fingernails explore
the filthy nuns surface.
Tracing bruises
and spreading pain
from the spanking received
for being too needy.
Forming nuances of red
on the prime target.
Sweet syrup fingers
dripping down the arms
of a freshly dead man.
Defeat for the nun
who now is done.
Oct 28, 2018
Oct 28, 2018 at 4:57 PM UTC
I'll cry you a river,
so I can bath in salty,
bright and perfect pain.
Let me shiver from
the words you tell me.
Let me drown
in emotional aching.
Let me summon
tenderness in my bones.
Make me cry I said,
and so the monster did.
Breathing like a beast
so much that only a priest
would be able to save
a nun like me.
For I go to church
and cry for my God
every Sunday
to Monday.
What God didn't know
was that crying means more
than sadness to me.
It means pleasure in ways
that are rotten and spoiled.
It means the Devils hands touch me
without God's permission.
Oh God, secrets are fun
and thrills run
up and down
so much that I end with a crown.
And I don't need your approval
for I've done it already
and I dare do it again
and again and again.
Till I'll make you cry and you'll
be just like me.
Even if you don't agree.
Oct 27, 2018
Oct 27, 2018 at 3:41 PM UTC
The nun, plump, robed in a black
and white habit, walked across
the front of the class of girls.
Fay sat half way down on the left
next to the girl Millicent Sullivan
(whose aunt was a nun in Ireland).
"Immaculate Conception," the nun
said," what does it mean and to
whom does it refer?" The girls
stared at the nun whose two chins
wobbled as she spoke. Millicent
didn't raise her hand even though
she knew the answers, but put on
her innocent gaze. "Some of you
girls must know the answers,"
the nun said moodily. Fay raised
her hand and heads turned to look
at her. "Well, Fay?" She felt herself
blush and lowered her hand from
view. "It means one conceived
without blemish or sin," she said
in a soft voice. The nun stood up
to her full five foot frame. "And
what does conceived mean in this
context?" A few girls sniggered,
others gazed at Fay. The classroom
seemed to shrink to a white glow
containing just her and the nun.
"Not sure, Sister Luke," she said.
The nun gazed around the room.
"I am sure one of you girls know
the answer to this," Sister Luke said.
The girls just stared at the nun.
Millicent raised her hand and said:
"It means when the man's stuff
meets the woman's egg." Some
girls blushed, others looked puzzled.
"You have the idea. Now to whom
was it applied?" Sister Luke asked
staring at other girls. "The ****** Mary?"
A thin girl at the back of class replied doubtfully. Fay knew it was, but said
nothing more. The nun went on to
elaborate details. Fay was puzzled
by the man's stuff and egg. She
wondered if Benny knew. She would
ask him after school when she met
him on the way home. He knew
about things like battles and wars
and once kept a goldfish in a glass
bowl until he lost it down the sink.
He might know, she mused, she
didn't know otherwise what to think.
Sep 14, 2018
Sep 14, 2018 at 4:15 PM UTC
The Grand Silence, had over
the years, made conversation
difficult for Sister Scholastica,
and she wondered if other nuns
had found that the case in their
lives. The Grand Silence which
took place after the office of
Compline until Mass the following
day, was not an easy thing to
keep in mind when she first
became a novice nun many
years before, but now it was
a matter of fact in her life, and
after Mass she found it difficult
to learn to converse, especially
if she was the Guest Mistress
and had to converse with female
guests who stayed, young girls
who thought they had a vocation
to be a nun, and she knew the first
thing they must learn, is to not talk
as much, not to need to converse,
but to gain that inner silence which
is necessary for a contemplative
nun. Now it was part of her armour,
part of who she was, and words were
used sparingly like coins from a
miser's purse, and she knew some
sisters found it harder than others,
and when she first came she realized
just how hard it was to not talk when
another person came in the room
before Mass, or on the way to the
wash room for water and to see
another sister and not say good
morning or how did you sleep?
She waited in the cloister with the
other nuns, waiting for the bell to
toll for Mass to begin, and they
would enter the church chanting
the Latin entrance melody, the first
chance to use the voice since before
Compline the night before, and she
gazed into the cloister garth at the early
morning mist and birdsong, and knew
the time of silence would not be long.
Sep 9, 2018
Sep 9, 2018 at 3:21 AM UTC
This is the body
Of Christ, said Sister
James; I hold it now
Between fingers like
A sacred gem. My
Mother doubted the
Essence, said it was
Just bread, that any
More was just notions
In my childish head.
I feel the crispness,
See the whiteness, sense
The hidden Christ with
In the host. Father
Would hold his before
His eyes, then kiss it
Softly before he
Placed it in his mouth
And closing his eyes.
Mother said it was
All a magic trick
And a cartful of
Lies. I place the Christ
Upon my tongue, let
His presence be felt,
Sensing through the nerves
Of my being, His
Sacrifice, His pain
And hurt, His cruel
Crucifixion and
High resurrection
(Mother said it was
All fancy fiction)
Coming together
On my fleshy tongue,
Dissolving there, then
Gone, entering me,
Fulfilling, being
There, lifting me up,
To be, to love, to
Share. Mother would say,
Doubt it if you dare,
It’s just a sham, just
A con. When she was
Dying, ridden with
Cancer, I saw Christ
By her bedside sit,
Looking sadly on.
Mar 21, 2018
Mar 21, 2018 at 5:24 AM UTC
more often than not, a knightly surge
combs a pawn me,
especially after the stroke of midnight, when
hermetically sealed in my rookery,
where bats in the belfry
flap their wings at the speed
of sound times ten
thence, this king heads to his counting house
(which doubles asthma
Perkiomen Valley bishopric)
to economize on space,
especially during tax time
(as April fifteenth slowly approaches,
me heartbeat doth) quicken
though becalmed, when imbibing
idyllic, fantastic, and bucolic kingdom
Americana paintings courtesy, sans nomen
Percevel Rockwell, thus jitteriness pacified,
particularly speaking
on the telly phone with Ken
Burns, whose trademark documentaries,
particularly War between the States,
where even roosting hen
got into the frayed scrimmage vis a vis, even
chilly being egged on to surrender as Ben
a fit to this American
Civil War Yankee incarnate,
whose doodling word
ya probably don't give a hoot -Amen!
Mar 18, 2018
Mar 18, 2018 at 2:21 AM UTC
a man
in his
cerulean fit
always flight
his fascination
there with
his striped
shirt clean
that wimples
shall lie
in bed
with asters
attached in
beanie caps
today tonight
& tomorrow
in bloom
Feb 21, 2018
Feb 21, 2018 at 8:42 AM UTC
Hie Yamaha Wegman ****** voyager, voted vonage valuable, unrepentant TIME Magazine subscriber. Spotify sportsman Snapchat smartly. Sleuth slenderman silences Shutterfly schvitzing. Saxby sassy Santander sais sage rues rudimentary router rotorooter.
Royale Rococco rigged remarkably regular referee reefers red reddit reeder recuperating. Reconnaissance recluse really rabid. QVC quotient quoting, quo quoi quivering quite quirky. Quisling quipped. Quintuplets quintessentially quiet. Quids Quicken questions.
Quartermaster qualified quaint quaffing quadrilateral Pythons. Pyrex pylons put purdy purposeful puny punsters punching. Pumpkin pumice publicized prudential protean pros properly pronouncing prolific prodigies.
Proletariats professors' problematic. Pro privileges prioritized. Principle primates prevaricate. Preppy pregnant, praying prattler possibly Porgie. Poseidon pooping poodle ponders poppycock. Plum? Polite poison pods ply pitiful pinterest.
Pinhead Pillsbury pillager Pi. Pigskin pierce petsmart pests permanently. Perdition percolates peppered PennState pedigreed PearlJam Patagonian. Pastor pastes passion passably. Papas' paginated orbitz okayed. Nutty node needs money.
Next netzero nee naugahyde. Nattering nationwide nabob Moxie Molly McGee. Monosodium livingsocial joyus je kickstarter. Identityguard Huffington GMO. Gluten Glutamate footloose fancy free footlocker. Fingerhut fetishistic fabrication Cingular.
Feb 3, 2018
Feb 3, 2018 at 9:47 PM UTC
Martha stared at the crucifix
in the convent chapel after school;
she was alone,
other kids had gone home
and the nuns were in church
for Vespers.
You look tired Lord
hanging there.
Your arms must ache
in that one position.
The five wounds.
How bloodied they look.
I want to Your bride
and be a nun
and be able to visit You anytime
of the day or night.
I want to tend
to Your wounds,
kiss Your aching limbs,
place a finger in Your side.
Want to whisper
in Your ear
my every woe,
my sins and sense
Your arms about me
when I am low.
The chapel door opened
a nun stood there.
Martha Maguire
what are you
doing here?
Be off with you girl.
Martha gazed at the nun
with her big eyes.
Just talking
to the Crucified,
she said.
Off you go,
the nun said.
Martha went
cursing the sister
inside her head.
Sep 14, 2017
Sep 14, 2017 at 3:50 AM UTC
There was an man from Harrington,
Oh how he wanted to become a nun,
But he ate too much,
So he stopped being butch,
And wasn't allowed to be a nun all because he weighed a ton.
Jul 18, 2017
Jul 18, 2017 at 6:09 AM UTC
Martha stood
on a wooden chair
to reach the crucifix
on the wall
of the old chapel.
She was dusting
with a yellow duster
(brought from home)
to wipe away
the dust
and cobwebs
attached to the crown
of thorns
of the Crucified
and those about
His beard.
Waaat are ye at?
Martha
a nun said
behind her.
Oi'm dustin'
Martha replied
looking around
at the nun.
*** down
dis once
the nun said
pointing
a thin finger.
But our Lord
is dusty an' full
av cobwebs
Martha said
turning her head
back to the Christ
wiping about
His beard.
Oi said nigh
the nun said firmly.
Martha sighed
and stepped off
the chair
which creaked.
Discipline
is the first tin'
if yer want
ter be a nun
Sister Luke said.
Martha looked
at the nun
yer Lord looked
so sad dare
covered wi' de webs
she said.
Enoof
av yisser blather
the nun said
on yisser way
ter class.
Martha looked
at the Christ
then walked out
the chapel
leaving the nun behind
musing on being a nun
it turning over
in her mind.
Jul 9, 2017
Jul 9, 2017 at 2:17 AM UTC
Sister Martha
stopped me
in the corridor
of the school
her features fixed
in a hard gaze.
Girls are not
to run or rush
in the corridors
Mary Macquire
the nun said.
I stood
and gazed at her.
I am late
for my next lesson
I said.
I do not care
you are not to run
in the corridor
she said.
I was going
to be late
as the old bag
was going to
keep me there.
I want you
to walk back
to the beginning
of the corridor
and walk to where
I stand
she said.
I sighed
and walked back
to where
I began to run
and walk
towards her.
She stood there
staring at me
her hands hidden
from sight
like some magpie
perched there.
Once I reached her
she said
next time you
come along
the corridor
remember to walk.
I said I would
and she let me go on
walking slow
and not rushing
in case she made me
walked it again.
I never
looked back
I walked past
the holy pictures
on the walls
the statue of the ******
flowers at her feet.
Once I was
out of sight
of the nun
I stuck two fingers up
in her direction
and walked on
to my next lesson
now late.
Getting an excuse
in my mind
like trying to explain
the colour of the sea
to one born blind.
May 6, 2017
May 6, 2017 at 4:48 AM UTC
Sister Bridget
slammed her ruler
over the palm of my hand
her features cold and stiff
as she did so.
I let no emotions show
in my features.
The sting came
and remained like a stain.
She did it three times
on each palm
then let my hands
fall at my sides.
She stared at me
that Magdalene
is what happens
when you act
as you have
she said
go and sit down.
I walked back
to my desk
and sat down
next to Mary.
I will not have
such behaviour
in my class
while I am trying
to teach
she said.
The other pupils
in class
stared at me briefly
then stared at the front
and the nun who walked
back and forth
in front
of the black board
like a lioness
looking for more prey
to feed her emptiness.
Are you all right?
Mary whispered
leaning close to me
staring ahead to see
where the nun
was looking.
Silly old cow
Mary whispered.
I'm ok
I said
sensing the sting
still there
but keeping
my emotions in check
as I did as a little girl
after my father
had slapped me
in one of his
drunken rages.
I sensed
Mary's hand
touch mine
under the desk
she stroked them.
I wished we were alone
and I could kiss her
as we had
a few days ago
in my room
when my mother
was out.
The nun yakked
on about St Paul
and his voyages
and how
he nearly drowned.
I wished the old bat
would hang herself
with her rosary
or drown out
in some deep sea.
Apr 18, 2017
Apr 18, 2017 at 9:52 AM UTC
Anne said
her leg stump hurt
and lifted the hem
of her red dress
and showed me.
It was inflamed
best get one
of the nursing nuns
to look at it
I said.
I don't want
those penguins
looking at my stump
she said.
What are you
going to do?
I said.
Don't Kid
wish they'd not
taken my fecking leg off
she said.
She looked back
at the nursing home
from where we were
on the lawn
in the white chairs.
It needs looking at
I said.
Looking at
the fecking thing
ain't going to help
she said
go get that skinny nun
she's best
avoid getting
Sister Paul.
So I ran across the lawn
and into the home
and looked
for the skinny nun
but I couldn't find her.
Sister Bridget
came out of the chapel.
Where's the skinny nun?
I said.
Skinny nun?
Sister Bridget said
that's not polite Benny
do you mean Sister Luke?
I looked past her
at the passageway
yes I think that's
her name
I said.
The nun gazed at me
why do you want her?
I don't but Anne does
I said.
Why does Anne
want her?
I looked at the nun's
broad nose.
Her stump is red
I said.
How do you know?
the nun said.
She showed me
I said.
She showed you
her leg stump?
the nun said frowning.
Yes she said it hurt
and sent me
to get Sister Luke.
I'll come and see
the nun said.
I followed her
out onto the lawn.
Anne wasn't pleased
I could see
by her face.
Just out of reach
she once said
of God's grace.
Apr 12, 2017
Apr 12, 2017 at 3:25 PM UTC
Martha closed the door
of the side chapel.
Sunlight shone through
the coloured glass
onto the statue
of St Therese
and on the crucifix.
She stared at them both
it was so quiet
she felt she could hear
her heart beating.
She walked
to the Crucified
and touched His feet
with her fingers.
Looking up
she could see
His half closed eyes
looking down at her.
St Therese
looked down
at the floor
eyes unmoving.
Martha kissed
the nailed feet
felt the cold plaster
stood back
looked at His hands
nailed wide
hands making claws
in their agony.
The door opened
behind her
the old nun
who walked with a stick
entered and said
what are you doing
in here Macquire?
Martha turned around
and gazed at the nun
contemplating our Lord
she replied.
Girls are not
to be in here
the nun said
now go.
Martha looked
at the crucifix
and said
see you later
and walked past
the nun taking in
her aged face
as she did so.
She walked down
the passageway
the nun's clickedy stick
following behind
sounding like one
who was blind.
Mar 20, 2017
Mar 20, 2017 at 4:17 AM UTC
The nun stopped her
in the corridor
Magdalene need
a word with you
the nun said.
What word would
that be Sister Bridget?
the girl said.
A word of warning
follow me to the office
the nun turned
and walked back
the way she had come.
Magdalene followed
watching the nun
in front of her
how sexless she was.
The nun opened the door
of the office and held
the door open
so that Magdalene
could walk in
then she closed the door
and sat at the desk
and indicated
for the girl
to do likewise
opposite her.
It has been brought
to my notice that you
were seen with Mary Moran
in the girls' toilets
what have you to say?
Not unusual for two girls
to go to the girls' toilets Sister
Magdalene said.
The nun stared
not both
in the same cubical
the nun said stiffly.
Magdalene stared
at the nun
who'd say such a thing?
we were not
in the same cubicle
we were in adjoing cubicles
Magdalene said.
The nun gazed at her
you were both seen
coming out
of a cubicle together
the nun affirmed.
Magdalene looked
at the nun
at the pinched features
the nose
the black and white habit.
That was afterwards
I just went in there
to talk with Mary
Magdalene said.
You were heard
whispering in
the same cubicle
the nun said
eyeing the girl.
You are not
to be in the same cubical
with the Moran girl
at any time at all
do you understand me?
The nun said firmly
if I hear of this again
I will be having words
with both of your parents
and the priest understand?
Magdalene nodded
yes Sister Bridget
she said.
The nun stared at her
off you go
and remember
what I said.
The girl got up
and looked at
the large crucifix
on the wall above
the nun's head
and wish her with piles
or one day dead.
Feb 24, 2017
Feb 24, 2017 at 3:32 AM UTC
The tall thin nun
opened the book
scanned the page
then gazed
at the children in class.
What relationship
does Our Lady have
within the Holy Trinity?
She said.
Fay sat at the front
hands in her lap
eyes looking
at the nun
and her bony fingers
holding
the black book.
A boy raised his hand:
yes Borrows?
The nun said.
She's the daughter
of God,
the boy said.
Fay knew the answers
but felt shy
to raise her hand.
Yes she is
the daughter of
God the Father
but what other relationship
does she have
within the Trinity?
The nun said.
A girl with pigtails
put up a hand:
she's the mother of Jesus,
the girl said.
Yes she is
the mother of Jesus,
but who is Jesus?
The nun said
her eyes scanning
the class like a hawk
for prey.
Fay shyly lifted
her hand:
Jesus is God the Son
and so Mary
is the Mother of God,
Fay said.
The nun studied Fay:
so Our Lady is both
a daughter of God
and the Mother of God,
the nun said.
Fay wondered
what Benny would make
of this lesson.
She would see him later
after school if she was
allowed out after dinner
if her father
was in a good mood.
What other relationship
does Our Lady have
within the Trinity?
The nun said.
Fay knew but felt
unsure if she should
raise her hand or not.
No one know?
The nun said.
No one replied
but sat there
eyes on the nun.
Fay knew but it
was too late now
the nun was about
to explain.
Our Lady is
the spouse
of God the Holy Spirit,
the nun said.
A boy put up
his hand.
Yes O' Connor?
What's a spouse?
He said.
The Holy Spirit
came upon her
and she conceived
of the Holy Spirit,
the nun said slowly,
so Our Lady
is the spouse of God
the Holy Spirit,
the nun said.
The boy nodded
nonplus.
Fay understood
but had said nothing.
She would ask
Benny later
if he knew
he would probably say:
haven't a clue.
Jan 12, 2017
Jan 12, 2017 at 10:26 AM UTC
Anne entered the room
where the doctor was
with Sister Paul;
I followed behind.
Ah there you are,
said the nun,
the doctor wishes
to see if your leg stump
has healed sufficiently
to try on
your artificial leg.
The doctor looked
at me:
why is the boy here?
He said.
Because if he isn't here
I ain't,
Anne said.
It invades
patient privacy,
the doctor said.
If he goes I go,
Anne said.
The nun pulled a face:
it's how she is doctor,
Benny won't
get in the way.
All right,
the doctor said
unhappily,
lie on the bed please,
he added.
Anne handed me
her crutches
and lay on the bed.
The doctor pulled up
her dress and looked
at her leg stump
and felt it.
The nun looked
on frowning.
I stood by looking
at the doctor.
Does it hurt?
He said.
Most of the time,
Anne said.
Does it hurt
when I touch it?
Course it does
what do you
fecking think,
Anne said moodily.
Language Anne,
the nun said,
sorry about that doctor.
No need
to apologise
I know
what children
are like,
he said.
He fiddled
around more.
How long
are you going
to be touching my stump?
I told you it hurts,
Anne said.
The doctor sighed
and pulled down
her dress:
best give it
another few weeks,
he said.
He went over
and washed his hands
in the sink.
Right Anne you
can get up now,
the nun said.
Anne sat up
and gestured
for me to give her
her crutches
which I did.
Anne said:
can I go now
or do you want
to touch me again?
You can go Anne,
the nun said
eyeing her angrily.
Anne got off the bed
and crutched herself
out of the room.
I followed behind her
down the passageway
a bad start
to another day.
Jan 11, 2017
Jan 11, 2017 at 3:42 AM UTC