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"caeli" poems
Je te chante A toute heure Religieusement Les très grandes moultes belles et riches heures de Ma Dame Je te les chante en latin à matines Ave Maria Plena Gratia Je te les chante à laudes Tota pulchra es amica Je te chante en latin les petites heures, les heures de pucelle Je te les chante à prime Regina caeli letare Je te les chante à tierce Benedicta es tu filia Je te les chante à sexte Obsecro te domina sancta Maria, Mater dei, pietate plenissima Je te les chante à none O intemerata et in eternum benedicta Je te chante en latin les grandes heures, les donzelles Je te les chante à vêpres Alleluia Hosanna Musa Benedicta tu in Musis Je te les chante à complies Salve Regina Mater misericordiae vita dulcedo et spes nostra salve Et dans le silence de ma cellule Noire et blanche Je te renouvelle Après l'office des complies Sans antiphonaire et sans graduel Mes voeux d'humilité, de pauvreté et chasteté Ecoute la prière grégorienne De ton moine cistercien, ton baryton orthodoxe, Ton serviteur, ton esclave, ton Musc Nu et sincère sans habit et sans scapulaire Nunc et in hora mortis nostrae
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Aug 21, 2019
Aug 21, 2019 at 6:31 AM UTC
Les très grandes moultes belles et riches heures de Ma Dame !
5.30am dawn birdsong smell of fresh flowers, aperiam ***** mea, Dom Joe rabbit-like (affectionately) put a finger to his lips to remind me of the Grand Silence that was in the refectory for breakfast, she presented me with her soft fruit and said take and enjoy, the breviary black and heavy held in hands looking for the Matins Office Latin and plainsong, ascoltare Dio the Italian monk said as I helped in the abbey library to sort books dust off shelves, Hugh thin faced said all rings and personal items must be left in the care of the abbot all that is of the past must be left behind, the smell of polish and old bricks and the French peasant monk(lay-brother) walked along the aisle of the church as if across a muddy field in his heavy black boots, love with tenderness not passion wisdom not foolishness and strength (St) Bernard said I read some place, parler à Dieu de ne pas lui the French monk said to me as I am with you as we cleared grass at the roadside to the abbey, smell of incense in the church before Terce after Mass and closing the eyes and breathing it in, I wanted to **** her fig but she giggled too much so just kissed her lips, if you want be a real seeker of truth it is necessary said Gareth quoting Descartes that once in your life you doubt everything, afternoon tea and biscuits in the cloister garth the trolley pushed onto the lawn there and chit-chat and talk of the day, during Compline in the semi dark as monks sang the Regina Caeli I stared at the high windows and mused on her naked and lying there arms open legs spread that image seeped into my head.
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Jun 25, 2016
Jun 25, 2016 at 3:18 AM UTC
SEEPED INTO MY HEAD MCMLXXI
5.30am dawn birdsong smell of fresh flowers, aperiam ***** mea, Dom Joe rabbit-like (affectionately) put a finger to his lips to remind me of the Grand Silence that was in the refectory for breakfast, she presented me with her soft fruit and said take and enjoy, the breviary black and heavy held in hands looking for the Matins Office Latin and plainsong, ascoltare Dio the Italian monk said as I helped in the abbey library to sort books dust off shelves, Hugh thin faced said all rings and personal items must be left in the care of the abbot all that is of the past must be left behind, the smell of polish and old bricks and the French peasant monk(lay-brother) walked along the aisle of the church as if across a muddy field in his heavy black boots, love with tenderness not passion wisdom not foolishness and strength (St) Bernard said I read some place, parler à Dieu de ne pas lui the French monk said to me as I am with you as we cleared grass at the roadside to the abbey, smell of incense in the church before Terce after Mass and closing the eyes and breathing it in, I wanted to **** her fig but she giggled too much so just kissed her lips, if you want be a real seeker of truth it is necessary said Gareth quoting Descartes that once in your life you doubt everything, afternoon tea and biscuits in the cloister garth the trolley pushed onto the lawn there and chit-chat and talk of the day, during Compline in the semi dark as monks sang the Regina Caeli I stared at the high windows and mused on her naked and lying there arms open legs spread that image seeped into my head.
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87
Sanctus satanas, sanctus Dominus diabolus sabaoth satanas-venire satanas venire Ave, satanas, Ave satanas Tui sunt caeli Ave satanas.
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Oct 14, 2014
Oct 14, 2014 at 2:29 PM UTC
My daily Prayer
The young boy was raised in the sun like a raisin. Detached shrouds were his comforters, As were periodical mental lapses of living in the upper boundary of Amazement. Up there, he would be able to see Caeli. Teachers warned him to focus on reality, At conferences his parents saw he was failing. But it was as if he didn't exist, His presence was fading in the back of the crowd. He was there, but not there, On a aloof voyage sailing the ship he designed. I believe the reason he almost drowned Was because he thought he could explore the depths of Atlantis. No one could find him. He returned after the horizon bloomed. And still to this day he lives a life of clouds and sunsets. You might just be able to find him, I know I have. (c) 2014 Brandon Antonio Smith (Originally written 11/18/10 Revised 9/23/14)
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Oct 2, 2014
Oct 2, 2014 at 2:11 PM UTC
A Life of Clouds and Sunsets
o tempestas ira caeli moles ingens nihili te pervertis ubi aestas aerum pulsat calide nunc appares vorax nubes tenebrarum columna tum evanes tam occulte quam intrasti resonans
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Nov 11, 2018
Nov 11, 2018 at 7:34 PM UTC
o tempestas