I’ve found religion in your smile.
Trusted the way it curves, practicing
the lines in my mind with delicacy,
ripening your image until it’s sore.
Your throat baptizes me,
replaces the devil of my intentions
with sweet, rosy breath,
curling my inhibitions until they dive
back into me and I express my very desires
openly on a blanket--
and it’s no sin
because I love the way your spine stands
like a perfect cross, carrying me
to the vision you have of a better me
than what I used to be.
I’ve prayed for your thighs in naughty ways,
but you’ve taken my hands,
folded them into shapes I can’t comprehend
and kissed my fingertips until I was crying
out of confusion and catharsis,
finally understanding what it feels like to count
people, you, as a blessing.
I see God when you make instruments
out of blades of grass, or how that strap
slides off your shoulders when the wind
graces the moment with a whisper.
He gave me an angel disguised as a woman
with too many pillows on her bed and coffee breath,
but you pull me from point to point like taffy,
slowly, lagging, molding me into the gift
you never wished for. I, bestowed at His feet,
unwilling found a soul and a heartbeat
louder than any of my unforgiving words.

to kiss you senseless until i am a seaglass buried deep inside your skin. to lick salt off your palms with paper-cut lips, until each breath has gone haywire. to quietly sigh your name until it baptizes my heathen tongue. oh, the wars i would start; the wars i would end — darling, there is something soothing about all the violent ways i can love you.

Lifes a ride;
Gripping it tight
And screaming
Laughter makes the journey
Mine, and sharing the pieces
Smashed with a smile
Baptizes my soul
With Yours; Love Us
If you dare to live
Wild and free
Within the waves
We make a~part
Together.

Does the migrating duck truly know
what it is that he wants;
or is he caught up in peer pressure
when he conquers indecision,
and spreads his wings to fly
south?

Is it possible that as he soars,
like Icarus,
that he is accosted by doubt
while the late autumn sun
baptizes him?

And when he finally crashes down,
in some forgotten pond,
warmed by a tropical clime;
that he wonders what might have been,
and is overcome by regret?

What i wanna say today….
....Jesus Christ is the same yesterday, today and forever....
....i have an urge to write these words today, i thank you so very much for reading, ………with love from Sylvia….


The Bible? Of course, i read it, but not every day,
seriously, not as a research book,
but as The Holy Scriptures, my basis for my faith and to pray.

It has the Old and the New Testament,
i'm oft inspired by the Word of God in every segment.

Authoritative, in faith i hold the Bible,
to be inerrant in the originals God-breathed, infallible.

i assure you to read it, bit by bit,
for your faith and practice, please read the complete hit,
and final authority, perfectly guided by the Holy Spirit.

i believe in the only God, He is the Creator of all,
He is also known as the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit,

revealed by God Himself, as ONE in being, in essence, and glory.

God is the One and Only Almighty, omnipresent, omnipotent He,
and unchanging. He is holy, just and righteous,
He is love, merciful, good and gracious.

i believe in the divinity of Jesus Christ,
the expressed image of the Father is grandest.

Who was born to become an ordinary man,
in order that He could tell us who God really is,
and provide the means of salvation for humanity and all the bliss.

Jesus Christ of the Holy Spirit’s conception,
and, born of the ****** Mary, only she, without a man,
Jesus is truly God, and fully man, without a sin,
His birth occurred only by His Mother, still a ******.

He lived a perfect, sinless life, His teachings are all true.
Jesus Christ died on the cross just for me and for all of you,

He died for all humanity as a substitutionary sacrifice,
we hold that His death is sufficient to provide salvation, the price,
for all who receive Him as their Saviour.

That our justification is grounded in His blood shed,
that it is attested by His literal, physical resurrection from the dead.

Jesus Christ ascended to Heaven in His glorified body,
He is now seated at the right hand of God, as our High Priest and Advocate,

i believe in the divinity and personality of the Holy Spirit,
He regenerates sinners, and He indwells believers.

He is the agent by whom Christ baptizes all believers into His body,
He is the seal by whom the Father guarantees the salvation of believers
unto the day of redemption.

He is the Divine Teacher who illumines
believers’ hearts and honest minds,
as they study the Word of God,
each on their own relaxing spot.

The Holy Spirit is ultimately sovereign,
in the distribution of spiritual gifts to the obedient man.

The miraculous gifts of the Spirit, as they were known
in those times in ancient Efeze,
while by no means outside of the Spirit’s ability to empower,
no longer function to the same degrees,
they did in the early development of the church in Efeze.

The reality and personality of angels do exist,
God created the angels to be His servants and messengers.

i believe every word i have read in the Bible and its translations,
thus also in the existence and personality of the devil and its demons,
this devil’s name is Satan is the heaviest enemy God ever met,
as evil rebellions against His Almighty power, too sad,
i read this in the Bible in Isaiah 14:12-17 and in Ezekiel 28:12-15 at my spot,

he is the great enemy of God and man, condemned by the Lord,
he and his evil company were sent away for good from the holy place,
i read this in the Bible in Matthew, and in Revelations, i reckon,

my belief, based upon reading, deep thinking and my greatest Faith in God,
that we can defeat these evilish appearances right on the spot.
By praying and asking for more strength in our belief,
so that we can conquer and be freed from this devilish thief !!

All these words were ranting me to jump out of my mind,
but i took paper and pencil to hasten the posting like this kind….

Then, my dear Poetfreak friends, and today my HePo friends
i bow to you all, humbly and with great honesty, i say the deepest Amen….


© Sylvia Frances Chan
Copyright Protected

Reformed euangelist of higher beautie
And higher loue that springeth forth from Truth,
Thou didst amend, according to thy dutie,
Thine indiscretions born of lustfull youth,
And didst so well, with wisdom from the tooth.
Repentance liued will giue the liuer life,
But sinne, redoubled daily, death and strife.
I read repentance in thy later verses,
And see the visions of the heauenlies.
Thy poetry baptizes and immerses
The rapt reader in sights diuine who sees
Life and the vanity of vanities.  
Saluation doth belong to those who bear
Witness of Him, the liuing Truth, in prayer.

503

Better—than Music! For I—who heard it—
I was used—to the Birds—before—
This—was different—’Twas Translation—
Of all tunes I knew—and more—

’Twasn’t contained—like other stanza—
No one could play it—the second time—
But the Composer—perfect Mozart—
Perish with him—that Keyless Rhyme!

So—Children—told how Brooks in Eden—
Bubbled a better—Melody—
Quaintly infer—Eve’s great surrender—
Urging the feet—that would—not—fly—

Children—matured—are wiser—mostly—
Eden—a legend—dimly told—
Eve—and the Anguish—Grandame’s story—
But—I was telling a tune—I heard—

Not such a strain—the Church—baptizes—
When the last Saint—goes up the Aisles—
Not such a stanza splits the silence—
When the Redemption strikes her Bells—

Let me not spill—its smallest cadence—
Humming—for promise—when alone—
Humming—until my faint Rehearsal—
Drop into tune—around the Throne—

I was not, yet there I go--

a childhood re-invented,
one rabbit's foot and skeletons
of ghosts line my pockets.

Where the carnival puppets
pressed their thorns and had torn my flesh.
Chariots always grotesquely alter at midnight.

His night drunkenness rekindled the flames
of my hell.
I could smell daddy
down the hall--

He and his tenderness disorder.

I always scream on the inside
when he walks in my room.
In a slaves frenzy, I kick!

Poisonous memories, rancid and
acidic,
that burning flow,
drips thick inside my brain.
Devouring everything I thought was
good in this world.

--Black and white, black and white.
Everything is black and white!

The impure child, once more baptizes
the devil into eternity.
Whiskey lake laps at the shore
as the gypsy angels are crying.

I was not, yet there I go...

Yes, I am the same God
that dwells among you
Grace incarnate
again and again
in times and among peoples
various as the stars

if that mighty being
beyond all description
but experience
ever begat anything
it is but me,
me, love and grace

wherever the heart shrinks
and tyranny reigns
and lust and greed
masquerade as law
into that parched desert
do I descend, when
Jordan baptizes the soul

Ichthys of God, I make twelve
the anglers of fisherfolk
who cast their nets wide
and catch me in their soul
so they can behold
Him, that I am,

no greater miracle than this
was ever made

from high above the clouds billions of raindrops
shapeshift in free fall weightless collective vertigo
moonlight's glow casts a shimmer on the screen
blink-and-you'll-miss-it stabs of lightning
slash holes in dark clouds that reconnect with
the exhilarating, damning clash of God's displeasure
deafening earth-shaking thunder one after the other
I turn my music down so I can hear the din
all the windows in this hail-washed house have drapes drawn apart, shades rolled up
so I can watch the majestic display and pray
for a tornado to swing by just close enough
for me to gaze at but so faraway as to assure no damage to my observatory

these storms call to mind
secrets, reminisces surprising, in their own personal way terrifying

knew a dude in high school
found out too late he was the go-to man for controlled substances in those days
this kind of weather would send him to the phone
dialing Rhonda's number and she knew exactly what the call was about
the wind that swirled 'round the eye told her
she hit the ignition in the cute cherry red Ford truck he'd given her and braved the storm until she made it to his house

maybe it was an adolescent power trip
the sensation he felt through his ***** when the thunder spoke
then when it screamed he ******
she melted, the explosive crash drowning out the involuntary gasp which escaped through clinched teeth, the precursor to secret tears she seemed to have no control over
pitch dark, intermittent lightning strikes to illuminate the Storm King sprawled out beneath her, the look of aroused determination on his face growing more elastic with the clatter of hailstones on glass windows

I never knew about the drugs, didn't need them then, though I sorely need them now
but I knew he called Rhonda every time weather turned severe
the talk amongst peers was that the two of them were never seen together in an underground shelter no matter how bad the moon may have risen
Nudge nudge wink wink a nods as good as a wink to a blind horse say no more, squire, say no more!

I envied them
I broke cheap champagne glasses when the storm came and used them
to carve snaking tendrils across my wrists
barely any blood shed but scared the *******out of that witch my dad married after mom left
it was my failsafe procedure to assure at least another month away from them
yes, the mental hospital was preferable

the rain fell ******* the Doctor's house
weatherman said tornadoes were inevitable
flipped a switch in my brain, activated a mean streak
Doctor's favorite was insufferable
brewed a gallon of sweet tea every day and drank every drop
I saw lightnin on the horizon but that Big Bad Bear with the gun he stole from the Doc was nowhere to be found
I'd be leaving soon
I took out the gallon pitcher from the refrigerator
not even cold yet
unzipped my too-tight jeans
hung my spout over the edge and turned the beverage into 1/2 sweet tea & 1/2 cloudy dark yellow *****
placed it back in the fridge and waited

sat with him that night, playing guitar, singing incomprehensible songs, watching him drink that **** tea and possessed by just enough evil to laugh
in a ridiculously high pitch and enunciated to where I knew he couldn't understand what I was saying...
I sang
"****** in yer tea you know I ****** in your tea
aren't you so ******* at me?"
he never found out, else I probably would not be here to tell the tale

I had my excuses
broken and discarded
I was lost
toyed with the idea of being a Satanist
still lost
standing outside in the middle of an electrical storm
yes, I'm afraid
I'm told family members have been killed by a well-placed bolt and if it's good enough for them
by God
it's good enough for me
rain baptizes me, too stupid to come in out of it
the thunder makes me **** and shudder
lightning a brilliant fireworks show surpassing the best available powder and fire variety
I have become part and parcel of this thunderstorm
wait only for the appointed bolt to impale me with it's rapier voltage
here he come swingin' I almost missed him what with his night-black get-up-camouflaged by the black night that tried to hide me from his sight
alas, foiled by too much lightning

voltage from the heavens
I could personally think of much worse

blue fire surrounds you
tints you sacred
extends itself in waves
to all who meet you
saves
them from their ignorance
and the a-theism of their minds
saves
them from their dis-ease of the heart
begins to bond them to themselves
and baptizes them in the Blood

this is no strange fire
it is the fire of the burning bush
the fire that leads by night
and is smoke by day
ever present in the wilderness
of exodus:
the blue fire of Love


c. 2023 Roberta Compton Rainwater

I was there when you fell from heaven
the fire in the sky burns,
blazoned by the jade
tint of satan's Greek fire

the air was poisoned with the unholiness of you

it's easy to blame coincidence
if I am broken, perhaps I cannot fix you

my eyes are replaced with slabs of molten rock and the soulfire gaze
sears your shadow from your towering image

you are yourself and reflection
an end and a beginning

the steps toward dawn
and it's sunbleached essence
baptizes and breathes

death into life

but dusk comes not long after
closer than sin
thicker than bad blood

there's no light at the end of the tunnel
just the passing glimmer of your
one last wish

there's no light at the end of the tunnel
i won't dance with the devil
there will be no
one last kiss

i have never believed in god,
the bible is a series of stanzas,
which i could never translate into meaning.

it is poetry which never made my spine tremble,
usually i can feel when words piece together the fragments of my heart,
like tectonic plates making love underneath the earth's sheets.

and if it doesn't remind me that my body is not just an instrument for respiration,
it is not poetry to me.

if it does not remind me of the first time someone made a church out of my lips,
or the last time someone threw rocks at the stained glass windows of my soul.

if it does not replicate the sensation of falling to my death,
and then being resurrected
as the feeling of adrenaline baptizes my body.

i don't want to hear it.
somehow the prophets have only reminded me of the home where my childhood is buried in the backyard.
a breeding space for loneliness.

i have always wished on stars,
and prayed to the moon,
because at least for eight hours of the day,  i can see them.

at least i know they're actually there,
my life has been a series of conversations with walls,
i've been on hold for twenty years.

this life has showed me enough of building walls,
and how to make graveyards
and abandoned buildings out of my own bones.

i've spent enough time sipping wine,
and breaking apart my insides,
and somehow still making it look like a celebration,
isn't that what people do at church anyway?

instead i construct stanzas out of my pain,
i architect the universe into a church because
rain and holy water taste the same to me,
except the rain does not taste like my ex-lovers lies burning the back of my throat.

i refuse to let more strangers into my life,
just to remind me that my voice has never been loud enough,
that a scream is just a sound when no one is listening.

what kind of god sacrifices his own son,
my father sacrificed his daughter's sanity for the bottle,
and there isn't a scripture
that can make that story hurt any less.

there isn't a god that can precipitate the salt from my wounds,
but the moon is a streetlight in a darkened alleyway,
it is a lighthouse in a turbulent sea of sorrow.

so yes i worship the stars.
because all these years they still remind me that,
there is beauty in burning,
that i do not have to wait around to be saved,

and the moon is the only god i will ever need because
it reminds me that i have already saved myself,
every day.

To be or not to be...
What is it that is so captivating of a tree
The plants that stand in Noble stance
To have no eyes
But to see more than the eyes can see
To uphold a roof that all dwell under
Filtering the abominations in the sky
What would we be without air...
We must take time to slow down and care
The buffet for our lungs to sing what must be sung and to feed the flame of the Mighty bright heat of a fire that perspires to warm my flesh
An invention of the gods to make  variant dishes more edible that aren't so fresh
The  guiding light in dark cold nights
To lead me to the water that baptizes my organs to keep me floating in a mental elemental paradise
Oh how wise to recognise and appreciate the fate of the gifts in this elemental paradise
The soul glides through it's endeavors
The ether it's home
Come back to me and melt with the crone

under the ruddy and smoke-laden sky
i stare into the sun's almighty eye
and howl into each blood-moon night
fulfilling the depths of my feral birthright
as my heart and my mind declare war
for my beloved dies upon distant shore
but in this, the face of the final grave
i choose to refuse to be a slave
for there is no escape from this vast sea
and i know she will certainly swallow me
as she swallows each sun and every moon
as she swallows each river’s roaring tune
just as she will swallow this raging fire
just as she swallows the billowing spire
for by immersion she baptizes all
and into her womb all will withdraw
for as we are born we all will burn
and as we all burn we all return
set free by the fire of divinity’s motion
consumed by the depth of the eternal ocean

and yet, here i stand


waiting for her
to take my hand

(After Elytis)

                 1.

The sea lies leagues away.
I look leeward and see
No sandy beach, only this
Sandy soil in which our plants
And flowers struggle to grow.
There is no sign of salty air,
Of seagulls, or dolphins,
Or seashells. No Neptune and
His entourage to capture
My weakening sight
With his flashing trident.

                 2.

How easy the Greeks had it:
The sea,
Wine-dark, vast, the press
Of tides calling the long
Boats toward Troy.
Black mountains rise up
In a morning splayed with
Iridescence.
Thunder and echo sound
In the warmth’s embrace.
Glory gilds the waves.

                 3.

Today, the sea refracts
An aquamarine blue, lapping
Lazily against island shores,
Which cradle the waves,
Then ****** them back,
Vivifying, in their
Rhythms, the words of
Infinity, singing
the endless song of the sun.
The spume
Baptizes island souls
As the source of all life.
That is a lie, of course,
Or shall we say, a myth.
Human life began on
The African savannah,
Leagues away from the sea.

                 4.

Yet we need our myths,
To fortify our dreams,
An irresistible radiance
Clinging to the waves.
A heroic hymn
Of exaltation. Bells
Strike in the distance.
Yes, myths,
Classical, traditional,
Stretching toward the center
Of things.
Crusading sails in
The current, carrying
Our yearnings
For the eternal, rosy-
Fingered dawn.

                 5.

Yes, we need the sea,
And its ******-up cones
Of stone on the horizon.
Freedom blows from all
Directions, uncovering
Great tales of destiny,
Penitence, tragedy,
Self-mastery, lament.
The sailor exults
In his salt-sprayed aims.
We need the sea,
Wine-dark or blue, vast,
Rough or tame.
Without it, civilization,
In all its majesty, infallibly
Collapses.


                 6.

The sea lies leagues away.
I look leeward and see
Only sandy soil.

The night sweats away into the day, blackness running down
the west side of the sky.
We wake with the light and clothe in fabric
that sticks to damp skin and chafes still tender
arms and legs.
Westward, the night is dying, bathed in yellow heat.
Morning flushes warm and hazy, coltish on its legs.
Perspiration still clings to grass
and baptizes naked feet as we move past.
We are seeking the young hearts and lungs of the earth,
vibrant, blood-dark, and ready. Sharp in scent and
delicate to the tongue. Touch them.
Taste them.
A gentle killing; reverent caress,
preformed with crooked curtsies and twisting hands.
I'll carry you to my mouth, sweet one, small one.
Pitted, seeded, smooth and *****.
Forsake for me your manger-bed, a sweet cradle,
but I know sweeter.
My touch destroys, creates, transforms.
Quiet electricity, precious greasy energy.
Come apart beneath my teeth. Collapse. I worship you.
Come to me.
Come to me.

I knew the bliss
In the knees folded in prayer
Pieces on your stomp bebop don’t burn the bedrock
In the room, rook on the board
Laconically talk to our forthcoming rights
To governance and growth, growing with each prayer
I learn how to pray for less sadness, and more eternalness
Moreover, we need you to be happy about having children
Christ in heaven looks on your soul with affection
The light baptizes the sacrosanct boy, and the girl I’ve known all my life
Is now praying with me and taking me to church