"gareth" poems
The monk stands
in the shadow
of the cloisters,
said Benedict,
his arms folded
beneath his black habit,
his features unsmiling,
his stare out at the garth
and the clock tower
over the way.
I watch him,
feeling the sun's warmth
where the shadows aren't;
the flowers in the flower beds
are in full bloom,
the afternoon air
throws birds into the sky
to set free and fly.
Other monks
gather in the garth
after the office of None;
Patrick wheels out the trolley
with tea, coffee and cake;
we stand and talk
in the brief recreational break;
white clouds drift by,
birds take wing above
in the afternoon sky.
One talks to me of his book
on the abbey, the history
from its origins in France
until exiled here.
There is the bell
for the end of the break
and on we go
to our occupations
in our rooms or church;
I attend the Latin class
with George and Gareth,
our novice master aids us
in our studies, we learn
the holy sounds
of the Latin phrase and chants.
I love the office of Compline:
the chanting in the half-dark,
the evening light
through high windows,
the utter separation
from the outer world
and our communion with God
in prayer and chant and song,
and our hymn to Sancta Maria,
and the final bell,
and the prayers on wing and air,
and I stand momentarily
silent there.
Jul 30, 2018
Jul 30, 2018 at 6:13 AM UTC
Dom Frederick's book
of the old abbey
I had read
the abbey closed
by Henry VIII,
the new abbey
was my sanctuary
since my first arrival,
et habitaverunt ibi,
George sickened
for the warmer weather
the cold saddened him,
she kissed my pecker
to a new life
some other guy's wife,
for the sake of silence
we ought to abstain
even from good talk
Benedict said,
I picked a cabbage
for the midday lunch
and smelt the mint nearby,
birdsong woke
the gardens and me,
Hugh him of thin frame
moaned of the number
of books on my shelf
even the Hopkins poems
got his goat,
Dieu est à mes yeux,
in my sight
and what I saw,
on the seashore
by the abbey
we threw stones
along the incoming tide
and Dom Joe(Bunny dear) smiled,
and again she said
deeper deeper,
we become what we love
and who we love shapes
what we become
said Clare (saint) that is,
the French peasant monk
cut the tall grass
with a skill
I didn't have
his scythe swung wide,
travailler à prier
he said,
Dom Patrick spoke softly
about the sweeping
and washing
of the refectory floor
and how it was done
and I did as he said,
God is the indwelling
not the transient cause
of all things Gareth said
quoting Spinoza
as we walked
from the abbey orchard
to the cloister,
I kissed her *******
each in turn
as she had said
in her big double bed,
the bell tolled
from the church
for the office of Terce,
Dio è nelle mie orecchie
the Italian monk said,
I watched the monks walk
towards the church
and I walked also,
I am lost I mused
where to go?
Feb 25, 2016
Feb 25, 2016 at 4:17 PM UTC
Father James took
you and Gareth
and George
postulant monks
to a convent
in Newport
he had mass to serve
and confessions
to hear
so you were all
shown into a parlour
with the smell
of home bake bread
and starched sheets
and a young nun
came in
carrying a tray
with teapot
and cups
and sugar bowl
and jug of milk
all in a dull white
and as she set
the tray down
on the table
her eyes moved
from each one of you
taking in no doubt
young novices
in the training
the plain clothes
the black and white
the neat cut hairs
the shaven chins
and then she smiled
and went her way
no wiggling of hips
or female sway
carrying the tray
and Gareth spoke
of Wittgenstein
and the Tractatus
Logico Philosophicus
while George took in
the tidiness
of the room
the ****** smell
the taste
of aging flesh
while you half listened
on Wittgenstein
and the scent
of passing youth
remembering
the young nun’s smile
awaiting truth.
Dec 7, 2012
Dec 7, 2012 at 7:29 AM UTC
I keep her clothing in the bed,
Fresh wet daggers of this concupiscent World. That is the standard. Don't you Hear it?
I watch the lamps and blankets singe
Cigarettes and Heineken
Nevermind, With the Lights Out
Everything is 'About A Girl',
And faking for no one.
'm too fuxked to know the difference
Stress is a knot that kills the young
I don't care about the other's wasting Their time isn't my business.
My sick is so short sighted. It carries a Black lighter inside its Gareth Pugh jeans.
Ann Demeulemeester top, Rick Owens Boots, an Obscur coat, Rad Hourani shirt
Henrik Vibskov socks, an MB999 tee.
Color is language for the body to read.
Inertia and energy protect me. I am the Opposite of a black hole. This vessel governs its own space, but I don't attempt To understand anything or any one thing.
This lizard brain keeps its ward and Wielding the almighty power of its Nightness, cosy's up near the Community of Death, Magic, and Numinous winter dirges, huffing Parfumes from her death-covered clothes.
Nov 17, 2015
Nov 17, 2015 at 3:33 AM UTC
We gathered on the grass
of the garth
surrounded by
the cloister's low wall,
there was a trolley
with a tea urn
and cups and saucers
and sugar and milk
or a jug of French coffee,
the clock tower
chimed a quarter,
a monk sipped tea
and spoke in French to another,
I sipped tea
and Dom Kenneth
passed me some cake
on a plate,
you can kiss me
wherever you like
she said and so I did,
birds sang from
the tree in the garth,
I ate cake watching
the French peasant monk
pour himself
some black coffee,
exspéctans exspectávi Dóminum,
et inténdit mihi
Dom Henry said,
Hugh stood talking to George
about what I knew not
and cared not a jot,
she allowed me
to undress her
my hands shook
with excitement,
I waited for the Lord
and He heard me
Dom Henry said,
I put the plate on the trolley
and sipped my tea
watching Gareth discuss
Wittgenstein with an Austrian monk,
the abbot sipped coffee
conversing with the monk
with the cissy girl haircut
who showed me how
to pick apples,
take me, she whispered,
here and now,
the bell tower tolled
and the monks dispersed
placing cups and plates
on the trolley,
the peasant monk
pushed the trolley
back to the refectory,
head lowered, eyes downcast,
conversing with God no doubt,
spank me as foreplay,
she uttered soft,
I walked the cloister,
smell of blossoms,
the bell tolled,
bird song,
Dom James said
about learning Latin,
search the high road,
Dom Henry said,
avoid
the lower path
to sin.
Dec 7, 2015
Dec 7, 2015 at 2:28 AM UTC
Ego in domo Dei,
the abbey on a hill
surrounded by high trees
the spire reaching
finger-like heavenward,
la natura dell'essere
the Italian monk said
dimostrato da Cristo,
I hoovered the cloisters
with the hoover
whereas old monks
swept with a big broom
for centuries
there efforts
took more time
but less noise,
Dom Charles showed
how to pluck apples
from the trees
and to save the fruit
undamaged by wrong picking
he said to me
late afternoon
before the office
of None,
she had me
where she wanted
and come she said
enter as a ship
into harbour or port
so I did,
Dieu sait tout
the French monk said
as we tidied book
in the large library
of the abbey,
ohne Gott sind
wir als nichts
the Austrian monk said
I listened to him
as we prepared the altar
for the Mass
and laid out
gowns for the priest-monks,
I lay on my bed
and watched
the sky colour change
from blue to dark blue
a bell tolling for Vespers,
necesse est dolor
de peccato non autem
infinita distractione
said St Bernard
so I read,
I wanted her
and tongued
her sweet valley
as she spread
her wings for me,
sauf nos propres pensées
il n'y a absolument
rien en notre pouvoir
said Gareth
quoting Descartes
as we walked
to the refectory
for lunch after
the office of sext,
incense in
the air I breathed
in the church
leftover from Mass
mixed with the smell
of baked bread,
a voice sounds near
or far off
inside my head.
Sep 11, 2016
Sep 11, 2016 at 11:03 AM UTC
I walked down the drive
from the abbey
to stand near the road
and listened to the traffic
pass by before the office
of Compline began,
obcidi,
moonlight in the dark sky
and stars sprinkled like sugar,
smell of incense
in the church
after Mass overwhelming,
a monk with a black patch
over one eye like a pirate
stood facing me in the choir
book in hand
head lowered,
begin doing
what is necessary
then what is possible
and suddenly
you are doing
the impossible
Francis said,
Dieu est ici
the French monk said
pointing a bony finger
towards his chest
as we trod up the drive
from our weekly walk,
Gott ist überall
an Austrain monk said
not just in the heart and soul,
George hoed the abbey gardens
and said the sun is so hot
it's like a desert out here
and it was
and we were thirsty,
Hugh thin and gaunt said
to be a saint one must do
the ordinary extraordinary well
which he never did
or so seemed,
give the apples a twist
so the monk said
do not pull them off
and I watched his fingers
touch and twist,
and she lay there naked
as the day she was born
and asked me
to shaft her
so I did
and her husband
was driving on a long haul,
wise men talk
because they have
something to say
fools because
they have to
say something
Gareth said quoting Plato,
the abbot tapped
his small hammer
on his bench
and the meal was over
and the reader stopped
mid sentence
reading from the book
and the refectory
was in silence
before prayers were said,
I lay with her
and she mouthed me whole,
cercare di essere salvati
the Italian monk said
to me as I weeded
the flowerbeds
in the cloister garth,
try and be saved
listen to the word,
some days I wished
to take flight and begone
like some wild
flapping wings bird.
Feb 19, 2016
Feb 19, 2016 at 3:21 AM UTC
The taxi dropped me off
as the bell for Compline tolled,
veni creátor Spíritus,
best go to the church
because that's where
the monks'll be
a guy said
so I went into the church
February 68 that was
first time,
la casa di Dio,
red lamp at altar end
and a few lights
by the choir stalls
and a monk walked by
genuflected
and walked on by
to ring the bells again,
she had that sway of hips
and a nice ****
and I swam
into her deep seas,
Dom Joe said
have you eaten?
no I said
so he took me
to the refectory
and got me macaroni cheese
and hot cocoa
and sat talking
about the monastic life,
Dio chiama ma pochi risposta,
smell of incense
and hot bread
and smell of flowers
from the cloisters,
kiss me she said
there there so I did,
non introíbo
in tabernáculum
domus meæ,
listen and attend
with the ear of your heart
said Benedict
(saint that is),
Hugh folded the napkins
with the carefulness
of a maiden
with the deep set eyes
of a ******
prier pour Dieu
dans la vérité
the French monk said
as he walked with me
to the chapter house,
moonlight and stars
and shadows
where the clositer walls
on the outside
allowed in light,
it is not enough
to have a good mind
the main thing is
to use it well
said Gareth
quoting Descartes
as we sat in the novice's room
awaiting Dom James,
plough my field
she said
sow seeds,
the bell tolled
over the cloisters
and it was getting dark
and Compline was ending,
making the sign
of the cross
as we entered church,
but that was later
in 71,
seeking through darkness
and felt all done.
May 12, 2016
May 12, 2016 at 12:43 PM UTC
I sat in the refectory
for the first time
a monk was reading
from some book
on Queen Mary Tudor,
Deus videt in corde meo,
visitors sat in the center table
surrounded by monks
and no one spoke
except the monk reading
from a high platform
his voice in monotones,
and she spread herself
on the bed
legs wide
and said
enter my port,
Hugh talked of singing
in unison as if I wasn't
as if he hadn't chanted
like a cow in labour,
he should knoweth that
whoever undertakes
the government of souls
must prepare himself
to account for them
Benedict said,
I watched the monk
limp along the cloister
head bowed
and carrying a *****
head to one side,
bell rang from bell tower
God's voice Dom Charles said
picking apples
in the abbey orchard,
she spoke in that soft tone
she had velvety silky
and kissed me over and over,
Dieu ne se trompe pas
the French monk said
clipping the hedge
by the garden wall
and passing me
the clippings,
tolled bells rang out
across the cloister garth
and George spoke
of priesthood at some time,
the scent of incense
as I entered the church after Terce
and sunlight in the high windows,
Gott im Mauerwerk
the Austrian monk said
rubbing fingers down
the brickwork in the cloister
feel Him he added
and I did,
it is not enough to possess
a good mind but to use it well
Gareth said by the abbey beach
quoting Descartes,
Dom Joseph(dear Bunny)
smiled his broad smile
like a sun rising at dawn,
the abbot tapped
on the table
and the reader
ceased reading
and prayers were said,
after Lauds
I made my way
for black coffee
and brown bread.
Feb 8, 2016
Feb 8, 2016 at 2:45 PM UTC
Introite portas eius
in gratiarum actione,
I entered the porter's lodge
and monks awaited me
three walked with me
up the drive
taking my bags,
bell tower against
a blue sky
bells tolled,
Hugh showed me my cell
and where to put my books,
sorrow can be alleviated
by good sleep a bath
and a glass of wine
said Thomas,
what can I get you?
she said unbuttoning
my flies with her
nimble fingers
and tongue to one side,
toccare la mano
di Dio the Italian monk said
as we placed books
in the shelves
of the library in the abbey,
Dom James talked
of the plainsong
and when we would need
to sing Latin by
and small lines of chant
and I tried,
parler à Dieu et
il répondra
the French monk said,
a dry desert of prayer
I told him,
she put her legs
about my waist
and I entered her
garden of Eve,
the French peasant monk
sythed the tall grass
like death sweeping
through a plagued city,
smell of incense
as I entered for mass,
choir stalls highly polished
smell of wax in the air,
yes my Beloved it is thus
that my life's brief day
shall be spent
before Thee
Therese said,
we walked the cloister
George and I
morning Terce hour over
and onto work tasks,
vertrauen auf Gott
und seine Liebe
the Austrian monk told me
as he sawed the wood
for log fires
and I held the end firm,
one can find out more
about a person in one hour
of play than in a year
of conversation
Gareth said quoting Plato
as we sat on the beach
in the abbey grounds,
amor Dei in veritate
Dom Joe(dear Bunny) said
trust to God and his love,
she milked me off
thoughts of her
drained my days
in all ways.
Apr 30, 2016
Apr 30, 2016 at 4:28 AM UTC
And the silence
of the abbey church
overwhelmed me
and that solitary monk
sitting in the choir stalls
alone in semi-dark praying,
Dei silentium coram Deo,
that time in the latrines
in the abbey
late evening
looking out a window
towards the harbour
with lights of ships
and houses and cafes
and me there solitary
looking homewards,
luminaria in mundo,
and Hugh talking about
someone walking past
his door noisily
in morning time
thinking it me
but I went
another way
and told him,
nella preghiera
tocchiamo Dio
the Italian monk
said to me
as we stood
in the cloister
before Vespers,
Dom Leo by the bell ropes
in the cloister
outside the refectory
saying farewell
then off to Rome
and shook hands,
and that French monk said
jamais perdu dans
l'amour de Dieu
and he was tall
and seemed in another world,
I felt the rough brickwork
as I walked past
the statue of the Madonna
my fingers sensed it
at the tips,
she had undressed
and said have me
before my husband comes
so I did,
możesz mieć mnie tutaj
that Polish girl said
*** she meant
but it was an old guy's
bedroom so I declined,
be ready to do battle
under the biddings
of holy obedience
Benedict said
(the saint),
a philosopher
who takes no part
in discussions
is like a boxer
who never goes
into the ring
said Gareth
quoting Wittgenstein,
in silentio et lumen
Dom Joe(dear Bunny) said
God is found
and we walked down
the path from
the shore to the cloister
beneath trees
and that silent
from the shore breeze.
May 19, 2016
May 19, 2016 at 1:53 AM UTC
Bell tower
against the afternoon sky
and the tolling of bells
for the office of None,
Domine *****
mea aperies,
the sun in the church
through high windows
pouring in the light
and we stood
chanting in Latin,
siamo come Dio
ci ha fatti
said the Italian monk
as he aided me
in the sacristy,
see I am as Eve
come enter my valley
she said and I obliged,
pray as if everything
depended on God
but work as if everything
depended on you
said Augustine(saint),
the feel of the rope
between hands
as we pulled down
to toll bells
for the office of Sext
George smiling
and I too,
Dieu se trouve dans
le silence the French monks said
as we walked
the abbey woodland
after lunch and birds sang
from high trees,
she peeled down her clothes
and revealed her soft fruit
partake she said,
Hugh stood in the shade
arms folded
gazing at the tree
in the garth
and the fruit it bore
still unpicked,
I polished the choir stalls
with a yellow duster
and red polish
the smell mingled
with incense
from mass that morning,
sprechen mit Gott
the Austrian monk said
as we walked
from the chapter house
one early evening
and I did but
was he listening?
I wondered,
perfect numbers are like
perfect men they
are very rare Gareth
said quoting Descartes
as we washed up
after supper
in the small room
by the kitchen,
my husband will never know
she said if you want to,
Deus qui possit ita
salvare te,
but I closed my ears
and even in the dark hours
I saw little light,
and I closed the shutters
to the departing day
and gazed at the Crucified
on the wall
above my bed
but small connection
to Christ in my head.
Jul 20, 2016
Jul 20, 2016 at 2:35 AM UTC
Only to please God
is why we are here
Dom Joe
(dear Bunny) said,
facientes voluntatem Dei,
he went and got me
macaroni cheese
for supper even though
I was late arriving
and a mug of cocoa
with skin on top,
agréable à la langue
et le cœur
a French monk said,
you can have me
anyway you choose
she said and I did,
the impudence
of the sinner
displeases God
as much
as the modesty
of the penitent
gives him pleasure
said Bernard,
from my room(cell)
I saw only the rooftop
of the abbey
and the grey slate
wet with rain,
Hugh talked of his
carpentry work
I made the chairs
in the guest house
common room
he said
he was no
George Hepplewhite
and I told him
and he sulked,
l'orgoglio viene prima
di una caduta
the Italian monk said
as we walked back
from our Thursday walk
to the abbey,
Dom Gregory stood
in the shadows
of the cloister
half in half out
arms crossed
staring into the garth,
she lay
on her bed welcoming
legs spread
her garden of Eve
visible and Elvis
sang from the Hi-fi,
I polished the choir stalls
after the office of Terce
and sunlight poured
from the high windows
on the polished wood,
blessedness is not
the reward of virtue
but virtue itself
said Gareth
quoting Spinoza
as we threw stones
at the incoming tides
on the abbey beach,
red and yellow bricks
on walls and cloister
and the church designed
by a monk and built
by local workmen
and I stared and ran
my hand along
the bricks as I walked,
ver a Dios y ser feliz
the Spanish monk said
as we worked
in the orchard
picking apples
for the refectory store,
the wooden Crucified
on the wall of my cell
aged by time and wear
at night before sleep
I would kneel there
and give it
an anxious stare.
Mar 18, 2016
Mar 18, 2016 at 4:03 AM UTC
And the old abbot aged
and pulled down with cancer
walked the cloister,
et aestu saeculi nobis,
even though cloistered
and of God,
I swept the landing
after the office of Terce
with large broom
and dustpan and brush
and there was a huge spiderweb
in a window,
Salve regina audi nos,
Dom Kenneth sorted
the altar cloths and plates
and holy cup where
the Crucified's blood is sipped,
and she welcomed me in
and sat me down
and unbuttoned my flies
and took out the feller,
the deeds you do
may be the only sermon
some persons
will hear today said Francis,
au travail est de prier
the French monk said
as he helped me
with the refectory
cleaning up before lunch,
George cast his stone
further that the rest of us
after the office of Sext
and our lunch
and sitting
on the abbey beach,
don't let your sins
turn into bad habits
Teresa said,
mine almost did back then
and with her
Yochana that is
not Teresa,
bell ringing
as Hugh showed us
his thin frame and arms
but the tolled bells
carried to far and wide,
parlare con Dio
ed egli vi ascolterà
the Italian monk told me
but my prayer life
was less than his,
we are twice armed
if we fight with faith
said Gareth quoting Plato
and I had only read
the Republic that far,
Dom Joe(dear Bunny)
said to me
God has something special
in line for you
but I never found it
least not then,
πλέουν στη θάλασσα στο Θεό
a visiting Greek monk said
and Dom Charles
translated for me
but it went over
my young man's head.
Apr 16, 2016
Apr 16, 2016 at 2:11 AM UTC
Dom Frederick
talked of his book
on the old abbey
as we cleared weeds
from the abbey garden,
hyacintho caelum
et album nubes,
summer sun on the heads
and hoes in our hands,
a single sunbeam
is enough to drive away
many shadows said Francis,
there she lay
and welcoming me in
and so I lay with her,
amplius lava me
ab iniquitáte mea
et a peccáto meo
munda me,
Hugh sat in the novice's room
glum faced and turning
a pencil between fingers
talking of Dom George
and his knitting,
touching the rough bricks
of the cloister wall with fingers
as I passed by
on my way to the church,
dans l'amour de Dieu
nous sommes sauvés
the French monk said
as he showed me
how to lay
the priestly garments,
fingers on smooth cloth
silk soft as her flesh,
a broken spirit
is the true sacrifice
Dom Charles said
quoting a psalm
as he breathed on an apple
and then polished it
on a cloth,
no matter how thin
you slice it
there will always be
two sides Gareth said
quoting Spinoza
talking of his student days,
fiducia a Dio
the Italian monk said
and he sliced an apple
for us both to taste,
enter me slowly
she said
my husband is far away
he will never know,
His glory covers the heavens
and the stars were His gems
and the moon His medallion,
George said as we sat
in the gardens for repose
I cannot stay here
much longer
the nights are too cold
and my bones complain,
Dom Robert spoke
of butterflies and said
the Red Admiral was his favourite
and he showed me
as it fluttered by
in the cloister garth,
His spirit breathes
and the waters flow
the Good Book
Hugh said
says so.
May 6, 2016
May 6, 2016 at 2:41 AM UTC
Dom Higgs came to the room
and spoke to me
of the monastic life
it was late evening
and the shutters were closed
so no moon no stars,
est forma mortis he said,
moon glow by bell-tower
especially after Compline
and the haunting looking cloister,
and she said her husband
wouldn't be home for hours
and there was time for it
so we did,
the French peasant monk
peeled onions
in the kitchen
peler sous l'eau he said,
I cut the grass
around the gravestones
of the monks
and flattened out
molehills before
the hour of Sext,
flying from the pains of hell
we desire
to reach life everlasting
Benedict said,
Hölle ist hier
the German monk said
pointing to his chest
with his thick finger,
Hugh made the chair
in the guest house
I saw it there
after he told me
he was no Charles Mackintosh
but it served it's purpose,
sancta Maris audi nos
Dom Peter whispered
in the cloister while waiting
to enter the church for Vespers
his voice thick as treacle
but pure as soft snow,
she undressed for me
with the skill of a *****
I a youth unravelling
the apple as Adam had,
Dom Charles sat
in the refectory at supper
his face still as a china doll
his eyes stern
and unblinking maybe
God-ward thinking,
Dio è con noi
the Italian monk said
as he showed me
how to sharpen the scythe
his hands powerful
fingers gripping the stone,
non veniam sine poenitentia,
the ultimate value of life
depends upon awareness
and the power
of contemplation
rather than upon
mere survival
Gareth said
quoting Aristotle
as we sat in the novice room
after Terce,
stars above me
moon bright as ghostly ship
I walked the drive way
letting curses let slip.
Apr 21, 2016
Apr 21, 2016 at 3:31 AM UTC
I went for an early morning shower
thinking the bell
in the abbey clock tower
had struck four
but after the shower
it tolled again four times
and I had got up too early
and so went back
to bed until five,
tempus et tempus,
the French monk weeded
the beds in the garden
his broad back bent
almost in two
I spoke but he looked
at me with his peasant eyes
and smiled,
take me from the rear she said
so I did and she said
her husband didn't understand
neither did I,
man is justified by faith
without the deeds of the law
said saint Paul
I read it in that Bible
I'd bought in my home town,
bell tower so tall
and we rang the bells
to learn the way it was done
release the ropes
or you'll go to the top
Dom James said smiling,
amare Dio ed essere salvati
the Italian monk said
as we worked in the sacristy
before Sext and lunch,
the reader in the refectory
read about ****** Mary
he read in a monotone voice
his voice alone in the air
and we just sat there,
the higher one is placed
the more humbly one should walk
Gareth said quoting Cicero,
Dieu voit dans le cœur
the French monk told me
he was old and came over
from a French abbey in exile,
we made love as she wanted
to be loved her husband
was on a long trip with his lorry
and wouldn't be back until late,
loqui ad vos Deus scit
a monk said and George
who Latin told me
what he had said
while waiting
for Vespers to begin,
the huge table napkins
we wore during mealtimes
could have covered a bed
which made George smile
as we tucked them
around our necks,
fühlen Gott hier
a German monk said
pointing to his chest
then to his tonsured head,
that old monk Dom James told us
whom we helped last week
is no more
he is dead.
Jun 5, 2016
Jun 5, 2016 at 3:30 AM UTC
The bed against the wall
near the crucifix
on the wall above the bed
and a small lamp
on the bedside cabinet,
et sonus campanae,
time to rise
and prepare for Matins
opened the shutters
over the windows
to catch dawn's 5am light,
and she said
come back to bed
I want you to make love
to me again,
George in the toilets
getting water in the jug
for absolutions
but said nothing
because of the Grand Silence,
Dio parla nel silenzio
the Italian monk said
after Mass as we walked
from the church,
sunlight came and went
as we walked along
the cloisters after Lauds,
O Lord help me to be pure
but not yet
Augustine(saint) said,
I wondered that as I washed
down the walls
of the sluice room
after Terce smell of bleach
in my nose,
la remise de soi à Dieu
the French monk
told me as I helped
tidy the sacristy
before Sext and lunch
stomach moaning,
she was small but she
had this way about ***
that was tireless,
Hugh spoke
of his father's visit
and his father thought
he'd make abbot
but he left years later
and married,
the bell tolled
in the cloister
the French monk held
the rope as we entered
for lunch and grace prayers
and readings by the reader
maybe Cromwell's life,
hablar y Dios te escucha
the Spanish monk said
the rain fell as we waited
for Vespers
and I saw a rainbow,
it is easy to forgive
a child who is afraid
of the dark but the real
tragedy of life
is when men
are afraid of the light
said Gareth quoting Plato
on the lawn as we ate tea
and biscuits,
to walk with God
or in His shadow
looking for light
even in the darkest night.
May 30, 2016
May 30, 2016 at 2:50 AM UTC
Dom Peter
in the workshop
planing wood
the wood in a vice,
ad opus est
ut oraret he said
as I watched
as I swept
wood shavings,
bell tolled
for the office
of None,
sunlight on
the cloister garth,
monks around
talking and sipping tea
I sipped and watched
but was silent,
kiss me here
she said
my husband never
kisses me here
so I did,
the bell tower tolled
George pulled
the ropes with Gareth,
prier dans votre cœur
a French monk said
God hears all prayers,
Hugh thin and gaunt
helped in the kitchen
with Dom Patrick
soup made
he said,
Arbeiten im Glauben
geschehen sind
Godly Werke
the Austrian monk
said to me
as we sorted books
in the abbey library,
I kissed along
her inner thighs
leaving moist kisses,
Christian lernen
von Christus wie
Sie sollte Christus
zu lieben
St Bernard said
so I read,
I sat in the church
in the semi dark
after Vespers
waiting for God
to speak
but no words came
just a flicker
of the red light
at the altar end,
Η ανθρώπινη
συμπεριφορά πηγάζει
από τρεις κύριες
πηγές την επιθυμία
συναίσθημα και γνώση
Gareth said
quoting Plato
as we sat
on the abbey beach
watching the tide come in,
I see her in my mind
legs spread wide
saying
enter
enter in.
Oct 17, 2016
Oct 17, 2016 at 1:19 PM UTC
Sine Deo nihil sumus,
the bell tolled
for the office of Lauds
it echoed the cloisters,
rain dampened the garth
and lower wall,
I stood and smelt the rain
as it fell the freshness,
slipper my behind in our foreplay
games she said so I did,
incense from yesterday's Mass
still lingered as we entered church,
difficile per pregare,
fingers finding the stoup's water
and crossing from shoulder to shoulder,
this Sacrament really contains You
O my God You whom the Angels
adore in whose presence the Spirits
and mighty Powers tremble
Angela of Foligno said,
I watched the old monk
fumble with turning pages
of his battered breviary,
Gareth smoothed out the page
with his pinkie hand and focused
his eyes on words there,
I loved her red rose
and lipped it's damp,
I believe that You O Jesus
are in the most holy Sacrament
Francis said,
my stomach hungered and rumbled
as I chanted low,
prière intérieure is hardest
the French monk said,
Hugh pointed the lines in the book
that I may see or know
if got lost and saw his chewed
nail along the page,
without God we are nothing
Dom Joseph said,
the cloister clock chimed
a quarter God's voice calling,
morning light peeped
through high windows
outside the world went on
inside we prayed,
I kissed each buttock in turn
and she smiled,
buscar a Dios Dom Francis said
and I tried to seek,
as nothing I am nothing
but with God all things are
Dom Peter said,
the chanting ceased
a bell rang and we left hungered
for food and drink,
rain still dampened
the wall and grass,
the church tower like
a minaret pointing skyward,
I entered the refectory
for black coffee and silence and bread,
she lay there naked
inside my head.
Jan 3, 2016
Jan 3, 2016 at 2:48 AM UTC
From my cell window
the cloister garth
could be seen
the clock chiming
each quarter of an hour,
campana sonus
est vox Domini,
Dom Charles instructing
on apple picking
how to do and not to do,
George hoovering
the cloister
we used big brooms once
Hugh said dust
everywhere even using
sawdust and water,
she was naked
and we made love
on her sofa,
Dio parla nel lavoro
the Italian monk said
as I clipped the high hedge
by the church,
sing with silvery voice
the canticle of love
Therese said
(saint that is),
I tolled the big bell
for the Angelus
as shown by Dom James
last time,
Dieu est ici dans
votre cœur
the French monk
told me tapping his chest
as we stood in the cloister
waiting for Vespers,
she knelt down
and said take me wildly
so I did,
the impudence
of the sinner said Bernard(Saint)
displeases God
as much as the modesty
of the penitent
gives him pleasure,
I fingered the feet
of the Crucified
on the wall in my room
disturbing the dust,
hören Gott
the Austrian monk said
den er hört,
true happiness is to enjoy
the present without
anxious dependence
upon the future
said Gareth quoting Seneca
as we sat
in the refectory
before the abbot came in,
I kissed each
part of her
my lips
on her skin.
Jun 13, 2016
Jun 13, 2016 at 2:23 AM UTC
I opened the shutters
of my room
and the 5am morning
welcomed me
with dawn chorus,
the bell tower stood
like a giant in the mist
viewed from my window,
Deus movet me,
the abbey toilet was empty
and I filled my basin
with cold water
for ablutions,
lavabis me sunt
alba sicut nix,
my cup runs over
she said and laughed
after *** and so did I,
Dom James spoke
of learning Latin for plainsong
and to practise reading
aloud in church
and I dreaded such,
nous avons un Dieu écoute
the French monk said
as he showed me
how to lay out
the vestments for Mass,
George talked of the way
the dawn light
brightens up the abbey
in mornings and I said
I had seen,
kiss me here she said
and pointed with her finger
and I did
and did again,
ohne Gott gibt es nichts
the Austrian monk said
as we walked back
to the abbey after
our walk on the Thursday,
I brushed my hand along
the brick wall
in the cloister
sensing the roughness
and the smoothness,
Hugh said the Scottish monk
had funny ways
liked knitting in his
spare time and once
played the bagpipes
so I heard,
why must we suffer?
because here below
pure Love cannot exist
without suffering
said St Bernadette
so I read some place,
un peccatore pentito
the Italian monk said
lo siamo anche noi,
I tolled the bell
for the office of Sext
my stomach rumbling,
we are what we repeatedly do
excellence is not an act
but a habit Gareth said
quoting Aristotle
as we sat on the beach
in the abbey grounds
watching the tide roll in,
I counted her ribs
with my tongue
and she was pleased,
the monk reading
in the refectory read
on Mary Queen of Scots
in monotone
his eyes scanning
the pages of the book,
see this she said
as she undressed
and I turned around
and had to look.
Jul 13, 2016
Jul 13, 2016 at 1:53 AM UTC
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.
Jun 25, 2016
Jun 25, 2016 at 3:18 AM UTC