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"garth" poems
Banished before thon barren plains, Where treacherous tears abstain Fare. Fair is the waste, The impurity of deep, decrepit weeds. And dage brings fruit then touched Only by their ravens of rot. May they paint thine tainted stave In golden garth and lull the lark; “Mine, Sweet babe, Robbed of cradle Readied for ritual. Mine, Sweet babe, Gore masked black Within the crimson bath.” Lacen their throats, the gullets that gloat! Lest langes of thorns, wrap the bairn sworn. Death breeds glore o’er luid nights Beldam rise belles in wicked repel. Round the funeral pyre.
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Jul 19, 2021
Jul 19, 2021 at 1:38 PM UTC
Salem
The Key To Success A leaf has many veins connected by the midrib, similar to the Corolla in flowers connected by the sepal, A stem has many leaves, connected through it, even the roots in this design- fibrous or tap are in their own way special, Many stalks form a branch, many branches form a tree but all connect at the base, the trunk, This happens in every tree, but to rebirth has to separate some chunk, The message being conveyed by nature is unity is the key to success in this world where every person is a different type of petal, Land Of The Ganga In this Garth, trees are never watered by a soul, but the river Ganges herself, The trees even after sinking inwards into the ground, continue to bloom in themselves, Filled with myriad species of undreamt trees and the rarest of all florets in the daintiest of bowers The most prodigious banyan tree with about three hundred aerial roots is the main attracter A tree that stores water is one of the hundred phenomena in the Botanical Garden in the land of the Ganga itself
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Jul 25, 2018
Jul 25, 2018 at 10:29 AM UTC
5 liners Collection -1
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.
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Jul 30, 2018
Jul 30, 2018 at 6:13 AM UTC
Benedict and the Monks 1971
Dawn breaks. Sliver of light through shutters, wakes Sister Blaise, stirs her from sleep. Bell rings. Chimes loud. She sits up, legs over the side of the bed. Bare feet, wooden floor. Coldness bites. Rubs arms, legs. Crosses herself with middle digit, in nomine Patris. Bright light through shutters slices into floor. Prayer said she rises from her bed. Thoughts race through her head. Drab night gown, grey, long. She walks to the enamel bowl, pours cold water, washes face and neck and hands. Et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti. Lets water run through fingers. Wash me whiter. The Christ on the wall hangs there in His silence. Picture of Christ on her desk, hands out stretched. She runs water through her fingers, wet, cold. Wash me, cleanse me. She dries her hands on the old white towel, rubbing dry fingers, hands, face and neck. Uncle used to. Pushes thoughts of him away, they slip back in place, eel like. Uncle used to touch. Bless me Father. She folds the towel, places it neatly at the foot of her bed. She removes the nightgown. Dresses in her habit. White and black. Mother said nothing. Silence and the turning of the head. Finger pressed against lips. Dressed, she sets about her cell. Tidying, sorting, bed making. Uncle used to touch her. For I have sinned. She opens the shutters, lets light in, opens the windows, fresh air, birdsong, slight breeze. Father used to beat. The Christ hanging from the cross on the wall is silent. Nailed hands, hands curled. She has kissed the nailed feet. Now she stares at the turned head, turned slightly to one side, crown of thorns, wood carved. Sister Clare is in the cloister. She watches her walk. She stops. Looks into the cloister Garth. Flowers growing, neat rows, large bushes. Mother said nothing. Beatings. Lies told about Uncle he said. Sent to bed, no supper. The sun is warm, light on head. She walks from the window and stands in front of the crucifix. His hands curled, nailed, old nails, pins.   Feet one on top of the other, nailed in place. She kisses His feet. Presses soft lips. Uncle used to touch, said our secret, sin to tell, little girl. She presses lips to His feet. Mother weak, said nothing, dying now, cancer, pain, hurts. Father dead. Never make old bones he said. Proved right. She closes her eyes. Touches His legs, runs finger along. Stiff, cold, smooth. Uncle did; she never told again. Father displeased, the beating pleased. The bell rings again. Echoes along cloister. She crosses herself with middle digit. A bird sings. Wind moves branches by window, He calls, must leave, must go.
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May 9, 2014
May 9, 2014 at 4:58 AM UTC
SISTER BLAISE BEFORE MATINS.
Dawn breaks. Sliver of light through shutters, wakes Sister Blaise, stirs her from sleep. Bell rings. Chimes loud. She sits up, legs over the side of the bed. Bare feet, wooden floor. Coldness bites. Rubs arms, legs. Crosses herself with middle digit, in nomine Patris. Bright light through shutters slices into floor. Prayer said she rises from her bed. Thoughts race through her head. Drab night gown, grey, long. She walks to the enamel bowl, pours cold water, washes face and neck and hands. Et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti. Lets water run through fingers. Wash me whiter. The Christ on the wall hangs there in His silence. Picture of Christ on her desk, hands out stretched. She runs water through her fingers, wet, cold. Wash me, cleanse me. She dries her hands on the old white towel, rubbing dry fingers, hands, face and neck. Uncle used to. Pushes thoughts of him away, they slip back in place, eel like. Uncle used to touch. Bless me Father. She folds the towel, places it neatly at the foot of her bed. She removes the nightgown. Dresses in her habit. White and black. Mother said nothing. Silence and the turning of the head. Finger pressed against lips. Dressed, she sets about her cell. Tidying, sorting, bed making. Uncle used to touch her. For I have sinned. She opens the shutters, lets light in, opens the windows, fresh air, birdsong, slight breeze. Father used to beat. The Christ hanging from the cross on the wall is silent. Nailed hands, hands curled. She has kissed the nailed feet. Now she stares at the turned head, turned slightly to one side, crown of thorns, wood carved. Sister Clare is in the cloister. She watches her walk. She stops. Looks into the cloister Garth. Flowers growing, neat rows, large bushes. Mother said nothing. Beatings. Lies told about Uncle he said. Sent to bed, no supper. The sun is warm, light on head. She walks from the window and stands in front of the crucifix. His hands curled, nailed, old nails, pins.   Feet one on top of the other, nailed in place. She kisses His feet. Presses soft lips. Uncle used to touch, said our secret, sin to tell, little girl. She presses lips to His feet. Mother weak, said nothing, dying now, cancer, pain, hurts. Father dead. Never make old bones he said. Proved right. She closes her eyes. Touches His legs, runs finger along. Stiff, cold, smooth. Uncle did; she never told again. Father displeased, the beating pleased. The bell rings again. Echoes along cloister. She crosses herself with middle digit. A bird sings. Wind moves branches by window, He calls, must leave, must go.
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82
The names I would give if I had 26 sons. Abel Benjamin Conway Darth Evan (After my nephew) Fabian Garth Hollis (My dad) Joey (My brother) Isaac (My grandfather) Kent Lemuel Matthew Nathaniel Othniel Paul Quinton Richard (My middle name) Sandage (My grandmother’s maiden name) Terry (My name) Uzziah Val William (My great grandfather) X (One of my favorite wrestlers was Doctor X) Yale Zacchaeus
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Oct 2, 2015
Oct 2, 2015 at 12:47 AM UTC
If I Had 26 Sons (ABC)
It all started with an urge to go to the movie theater PTA's "The Master" It was a 35 minute walk to the nearest cinema in Brooklyn Nighthawks is what it was called 1:10pm, 4:10pm, 6:10pm, 10:10pm, the show times Since I woke up at 12:45am, 1:10pm was out of the question 4:10pm seemed plausible but when the clock rolled around I was still puttering around the house I could putter no more by 6:00pm and flew the cooped up den The air, brisk and crisp Time fell back Women's heels clap the sidewalk in applause All for the autumn on a Sunday frozen in time I arrive, show sold out I walk across the Williamsburg bridge, why not? First theater in Manhattan I see turned out to be live art So I turned out and left Manhattans alive while Brooklyn slumbers I dart down Clinton St toward the old Avenues November, I could go without the cold weather, but I love the seasons Pumpkin lattes **** my wallet dry like lesions Soon I'm walking down 2nd Av, feeling familiar with my surroundings Funny, feeling familiar, in a city I thought I'd never know, (you'll never know if you don't go) Got some dollar pizza on St Marks Followed by a dollar falafel, which tasted awful, (now I know why it was a dollar) I walked in circles around Union Square, in union with everyone there Happy that my feet were to the street, where they belong Freezing, frozen, frigid, shakin' in my britches Wrapped around my neck a borrowed scarf Bumping into people, "I'd like to get by now", like Garth (keep moving, you'll find what you want to find) In big bright neon light at Village Cinema "The Master" (In 70mm) Huh, 70mm, "Cool", I thought The theater, empty as a loners funeral I was the only one there, red velvet lined seats I missed Halloween Maybe this is my treat The world is beautiful This city is mine, All I had to do Was leave my old one behind
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Jul 18, 2013
Jul 18, 2013 at 2:40 PM UTC
A Winters Night In Brooklyn
It all started with an urge to go to the movie theater PTA's "The Master" It was a 35 minute walk to the nearest cinema in Brooklyn Nighthawks is what it was called 1:10pm, 4:10pm, 6:10pm, 10:10pm, the show times Since I woke up at 12:45am, 1:10pm was out of the question 4:10pm seemed plausible but when the clock rolled around I was still puttering around the house I could putter no more by 6:00pm and flew the cooped up den The air, brisk and crisp Time fell back Women's heels clap the sidewalk in applause All for the autumn on a Sunday frozen in time I arrive, show sold out I walk across the Williamsburg bridge, why not? First theater in Manhattan I see turned out to be live art So I turned out and left Manhattans alive while Brooklyn slumbers I dart down Clinton St toward the old Avenues November, I could go without the cold weather, but I love the seasons Pumpkin lattes **** my wallet dry like lesions Soon I'm walking down 2nd Av, feeling familiar with my surroundings Funny, feeling familiar, in a city I thought I'd never know, (you'll never know if you don't go) Got some dollar pizza on St Marks Followed by a dollar falafel, which tasted awful, (now I know why it was a dollar) I walked in circles around Union Square, in union with everyone there Happy that my feet were to the street, where they belong Freezing, frozen, frigid, shakin' in my britches Wrapped around my neck a borrowed scarf Bumping into people, "I'd like to get by now", like Garth (keep moving, you'll find what you want to find) In big bright neon light at Village Cinema "The Master" (In 70mm) Huh, 70mm, "Cool", I thought The theater, empty as a loners funeral I was the only one there, red velvet lined seats I missed Halloween Maybe this is my treat The world is beautiful This city is mine, All I had to do Was leave my old one behind
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42
Il dio è il miei testimone e guida, Sister Maria, the refectorian, had said, Sister Teresa remembered walking passed the refectory, touching the wall with her fingers. God is my witness and guide, she translated, feeling the rough brick beneath her fingers. She stood; turned to look at the cloister garth. Sunlight played on the grass. Flowers added colour to borders and eyes, she thought, letting go of Maria's words as if they were balloons. Ache in limbs; a slowness in her movements. Age, she muttered inaudibly. The war had taken her cousin's sons in death. Two of them. Peter and Paul. Burma and D-day. Three years or more since. She brought hands together beneath the black serge of her habit. Flesh on flesh. Sister Clare had touched. Not over much, not over much. Papa would lift her high in his arms as a child, she mused, her memory jogged by the sunlight on the flowers. Higher and higher. Poor Papa. The spidery writing unreadable in the end. She sniffed the air. Bell rang from church tower. Sext. She looked at the clock on the cloister-tower wall. Lowered her eyes to the grass. So many greens. Jude had lain with her once or was it more? She mused, turning away from cloister wall and the sight of grass and flowers. Thirty years since he died. Blown to pieces Papa had written. Black ink on white paper sheet. Flesh on flesh; kiss to lip and lip. She paused by church door; allowed younger nuns to pass; so young these days, she thought, bowing, nodding her head. Placing her stiff fingers in the stoup, she made cross from breast to breast. Smell of incense; scent of wood; bodies close; age and time. She walked to her place in the choir stall, bowed to Crucified tabernacled. Kneeled. Closed eyes. Murmured prayer. Heard the rustle of habits; clicking of rosaries; breathing close. Opened eyes. Sister Clare across the way. A nod and a smile, almost indiscernible to others, she thought, returning the same. Mother Abbess tapped wood on wood; chant began; fingers moved; sign of cross; mumbled words. Forty years of prayer and chant; same such of fingered rosaries; hard beds; dark night of soul and such. She sensed Papa lifting her high in thought at least; Mama's touch on cheek and head. Jude's kiss. Embrace of limbs and face. Il dio è il miei testimone e guida, she recalled: God my witness and guide. Closed eyes. Sighed. Sister Clare had cried; had whispered; witness and guide; witness this and guide, she murmured between chant, prayer, and the scent of incense on the air.
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Nov 26, 2013
Nov 26, 2013 at 1:23 PM UTC
SEXT 1947. (PROSE POEM)
Il dio è il miei testimone e guida, Sister Maria, the refectorian, had said, Sister Teresa remembered walking passed the refectory, touching the wall with her fingers. God is my witness and guide, she translated, feeling the rough brick beneath her fingers. She stood; turned to look at the cloister garth. Sunlight played on the grass. Flowers added colour to borders and eyes, she thought, letting go of Maria's words as if they were balloons. Ache in limbs; a slowness in her movements. Age, she muttered inaudibly. The war had taken her cousin's sons in death. Two of them. Peter and Paul. Burma and D-day. Three years or more since. She brought hands together beneath the black serge of her habit. Flesh on flesh. Sister Clare had touched. Not over much, not over much. Papa would lift her high in his arms as a child, she mused, her memory jogged by the sunlight on the flowers. Higher and higher. Poor Papa. The spidery writing unreadable in the end. She sniffed the air. Bell rang from church tower. Sext. She looked at the clock on the cloister-tower wall. Lowered her eyes to the grass. So many greens. Jude had lain with her once or was it more? She mused, turning away from cloister wall and the sight of grass and flowers. Thirty years since he died. Blown to pieces Papa had written. Black ink on white paper sheet. Flesh on flesh; kiss to lip and lip. She paused by church door; allowed younger nuns to pass; so young these days, she thought, bowing, nodding her head. Placing her stiff fingers in the stoup, she made cross from breast to breast. Smell of incense; scent of wood; bodies close; age and time. She walked to her place in the choir stall, bowed to Crucified tabernacled. Kneeled. Closed eyes. Murmured prayer. Heard the rustle of habits; clicking of rosaries; breathing close. Opened eyes. Sister Clare across the way. A nod and a smile, almost indiscernible to others, she thought, returning the same. Mother Abbess tapped wood on wood; chant began; fingers moved; sign of cross; mumbled words. Forty years of prayer and chant; same such of fingered rosaries; hard beds; dark night of soul and such. She sensed Papa lifting her high in thought at least; Mama's touch on cheek and head. Jude's kiss. Embrace of limbs and face. Il dio è il miei testimone e guida, she recalled: God my witness and guide. Closed eyes. Sighed. Sister Clare had cried; had whispered; witness and guide; witness this and guide, she murmured between chant, prayer, and the scent of incense on the air.
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1
I dreamt it snowed Nectar and powdered sugar, Dusting nature's lips. I recall the kiss from her Not-so-innocent curiosity, Come-hither in her arched brow. How the morning breeze Grew wanton, Lifting her nightdress, Until naked she pirouetted about The cloister garth. I dreamt of flowering moonlight And his potent stem, Filling her With stars and shivers, As she burst, for goodness sake, From all the little blissful parties Drumming her garden wall. I dreamt of fecundity And funnel cakes, Soft and sweet and round, Her milk a spring, Laden with gift of life. Intuitive opaque areolae, The shape of things to come, The very ones from which She'll nurse their young.
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Nov 11, 2019
Nov 11, 2019 at 6:52 PM UTC
Kiss of Life
The old monk with Parkinson’s disease, bug eyed through thick lenses spectacles, his fingers shaking the host, is unable to find the tongue in sick monk’s static mouth. I weeded the cloister Garth flower bed, back aching, God at my young bent shoulder. The youngest monk, squat and black robed, holds the ewer, while the abbot holds between knobbly fingers, the aspergillum, to bless the monks in the choir stalls, after Compline, before the Angelus calls.
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Jun 1, 2014
Jun 1, 2014 at 2:14 PM UTC
THE ANGELUS CALLING.
Garth lay still in the gilded cage Unable to move a thing, The bars were merely spiders’ webs Of a faery’s magicking. He’d wandered into the Faery Ring Where he’d seen the mushrooms spread, And now was caught in a faery spell With the rest of the living dead. With Tom, the Candlestick Maker’s son And a barrel of candlewax, He’d dawdled home from the marketplace And lay in the beckoning grass. He woke to find he was tightly bound With a faery up on his chest, She said, ‘Lock him in the cage as well, Along with all of the rest.’ And Madge, the maid with a milking pail Who was sent to milk the cow, She’d wandered off on her way; she thought, She needed to feed the sow. She woke to mushrooms, ten feet tall All towering over her head, The stalks were bars, set under the stars And her limbs, they felt like lead. While Tim the Tinker was there as well With his knives and sharpening tools, His grindstone lay in a pile of hay And the bonds on him were cruel. The beggar lay in his filthy rags While the rich man muttered, ‘Shame!’ He’d soiled his boots and his Regency suit, Was bound with his watch and chain. They lie not far from the caravans Of a gypsy camping ground, So Faeries say: ‘Let’s take them away Before they’re seen and found!’ But dancing into the faery ring Is the Gypsy, Mavourneen, Who stumbles over the gilded cage And steps on the Faery Queen. The top flies off from the gilded cage, The webs of the bars are torn, And Garth crawls over the mushroom heads To swear, ‘I feel reborn!’ The faeries weep as they carry their Queen In death, to their Faery Dell, There’s mushrooms still in that Faery Ring, But now, Toadstools as well! David Lewis Paget
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May 16, 2014
May 16, 2014 at 4:26 AM UTC
The End of Faery
Garth lay still in the gilded cage Unable to move a thing, The bars were merely spiders’ webs Of a faery’s magicking. He’d wandered into the Faery Ring Where he’d seen the mushrooms spread, And now was caught in a faery spell With the rest of the living dead. With Tom, the Candlestick Maker’s son And a barrel of candlewax, He’d dawdled home from the marketplace And lay in the beckoning grass. He woke to find he was tightly bound With a faery up on his chest, She said, ‘Lock him in the cage as well, Along with all of the rest.’ And Madge, the maid with a milking pail Who was sent to milk the cow, She’d wandered off on her way; she thought, She needed to feed the sow. She woke to mushrooms, ten feet tall All towering over her head, The stalks were bars, set under the stars And her limbs, they felt like lead. While Tim the Tinker was there as well With his knives and sharpening tools, His grindstone lay in a pile of hay And the bonds on him were cruel. The beggar lay in his filthy rags While the rich man muttered, ‘Shame!’ He’d soiled his boots and his Regency suit, Was bound with his watch and chain. They lie not far from the caravans Of a gypsy camping ground, So Faeries say: ‘Let’s take them away Before they’re seen and found!’ But dancing into the faery ring Is the Gypsy, Mavourneen, Who stumbles over the gilded cage And steps on the Faery Queen. The top flies off from the gilded cage, The webs of the bars are torn, And Garth crawls over the mushroom heads To swear, ‘I feel reborn!’ The faeries weep as they carry their Queen In death, to their Faery Dell, There’s mushrooms still in that Faery Ring, But now, Toadstools as well! David Lewis Paget
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49
Get the spirit of science,                   robot The painting eating kissing teaching Park Silver & legs to the canticle is from the contribution to the diaphragm;  A bunch of free of sand,     & the prophet,          & brought him to w/ in her *******   the language of the rabble? in Latin, however, the knowledge of the ability of the power of the gods in the track club cops care;              looking for wood of the table itself But in the mirror on the bed Forty-plastic letters Lakes turning away from the center of the top; buried by the beginning of the new **** he fell to listen to the voice from the NGO's When flies were dancing w/ burning eyes, so gun-sight & both its nature equipment will be cut off at the knees; Remember my story It is written in back of the dragon that loves Glory; the corporate life it can be the best of smoke To have the mind of a pretext for their home to paradise, to change of teeth,         & begin: Earth to need a cool blond child to read holding flames,       understand abstract; Glory to the bottom lay the empty gun's skinny **** He caught wind Bob Christian,             Adios, broken vigilance sought   by Einstein J's daughters'           simulated bounce           The skin until the end of Bettie Then,         the mysteries of the House of leather Garth inspired state Ephraim was held & Kissed Mad floors language barrier as at 5,   high blood Adoni'jah's six villages;  A fool also be used for developing a speech, mindful of the message & the heat from the sun,         the stranger spoke of P. & Woolf lived for sports Friday & walked through the wilderness, he began to to ask for, to put him with garments and blessed is he,           Love was a weapon in the shadows                  but the hot drink is To receive a ghost;            The light open in the middle Wide took it to a table in the Libyan day to day, 1 for the first time; He turned the sea into the right side of the enemy;     claiming pretty mountains;  number of years of starvation; half of the Jews:        but the real point early in the morning is 1 Fowler Robert Kiyosaki, consort to the Queen of Drugs
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Sep 30, 2018
Sep 30, 2018 at 6:10 PM UTC
Consort to the Queen of Drugs
Get the spirit of science,                   robot The painting eating kissing teaching Park Silver & legs to the canticle is from the contribution to the diaphragm;  A bunch of free of sand,     & the prophet,          & brought him to w/ in her *******   the language of the rabble? in Latin, however, the knowledge of the ability of the power of the gods in the track club cops care;              looking for wood of the table itself But in the mirror on the bed Forty-plastic letters Lakes turning away from the center of the top; buried by the beginning of the new **** he fell to listen to the voice from the NGO's When flies were dancing w/ burning eyes, so gun-sight & both its nature equipment will be cut off at the knees; Remember my story It is written in back of the dragon that loves Glory; the corporate life it can be the best of smoke To have the mind of a pretext for their home to paradise, to change of teeth,         & begin: Earth to need a cool blond child to read holding flames,       understand abstract; Glory to the bottom lay the empty gun's skinny **** He caught wind Bob Christian,             Adios, broken vigilance sought   by Einstein J's daughters'           simulated bounce           The skin until the end of Bettie Then,         the mysteries of the House of leather Garth inspired state Ephraim was held & Kissed Mad floors language barrier as at 5,   high blood Adoni'jah's six villages;  A fool also be used for developing a speech, mindful of the message & the heat from the sun,         the stranger spoke of P. & Woolf lived for sports Friday & walked through the wilderness, he began to to ask for, to put him with garments and blessed is he,           Love was a weapon in the shadows                  but the hot drink is To receive a ghost;            The light open in the middle Wide took it to a table in the Libyan day to day, 1 for the first time; He turned the sea into the right side of the enemy;     claiming pretty mountains;  number of years of starvation; half of the Jews:        but the real point early in the morning is 1 Fowler Robert Kiyosaki, consort to the Queen of Drugs
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45
I wish I lived in Wayne’s World, where Wayne and Garth are real. I wish I had Cassandra’s curls, and her *** appeal. I wish I dated Jason Dean, and coloured him impressed. I wish I had the killer gene, but never ever confess. I wish I went to Ashfield Hospital, and looked a little on edge. Explored shutter island in the spittle, and made the Marshall pledge. I wish I lived with Yeats, or in the lonely moated grange, I wish I danced on table tops, my body for money, fair exchange. I wish reality didn’t exist, or better yet just me, all those opportunities would be missed, and at peace I’d finally be.
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May 9, 2017
May 9, 2017 at 3:58 PM UTC
Wayne's World
The peasant monk walks slow through the cloister carrying a bucket gripped in his peasant hand - red knuckles, head bowed- I **** the beds around the cloister garth -she had me between her thighs and the excitement within her eyes- Dom Leo tall and slim waits outside the refectory door to say farewell before he leaves for Rome the following day -She ****** me dry in her bed gazing eye to eye.
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Apr 16, 2015
Apr 16, 2015 at 2:15 AM UTC
EYE TO EYE.
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.
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Dec 7, 2015
Dec 7, 2015 at 2:28 AM UTC
TEA IN THE GARTH 1971
it's like walking into a garth, overwhelmed by the blossoms. there's nothing better than this making my heart whole blooms. yet it's like an autumnal equinox, there's a time to whither and die. albeit leaves fall on the ground, but I bet it'll be remembered. I feel not blithe nor blue whilst entering the whole new chapter, 'cause it won't be the same like before. it makes me to wonder, how blue will be defined after?
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Jul 24, 2021
Jul 24, 2021 at 9:06 AM UTC
Next Chapter
Amidst a melancholy darkness, all is silent, all is still. Mimicking the nature of my soul at this precise instant... A river flows within me dancing to the beat of a lonesome drum, waltzing me into a million realms of true disbelief where my thoughts linger eternally. I play the role of a mere onlooker to the sheer terror that ensues within the darkest chasms of my imagination... Despite the sonnet of insanity playing alongside my unconsciousness, a drum still calls, a sweet psithurism flows through the branches of memory and a serpentine red river continues to flow mortally like clockwork... Salty drops of rain embrace the names engraved in stone as beautifully decorated couples dance atop their ancient beds. You see, their rivers stopped flowing at the final beat of their fateful drums, imprisoning them to a non-existent world where memories are no longer created. For now, they're dancing; while they await the final judgement. A holy holy flash of light strikes the center of my still pounding drum, all the wine has been drunk and the last cigarette smoked, rivers are a flowin'. I awaken breathless, to an empty, white chamber. I know I am home. Without a pulse. -Garth Lebowski
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Sep 30, 2015
Sep 30, 2015 at 2:38 AM UTC
Pulse
She was this silver moon alight her seldom seen swing or virtually then as time in a bottle and in this antiquity on Saturday night she grew the orchard by the cloverleaf when her bridge opened wide and she felt so granted that it was her ambiance or garth near a point then she went combing a ride the bus did go that way and her muggy wantonness burst inside her chest every moment
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Nov 20, 2016
Nov 20, 2016 at 9:10 AM UTC
A Monastery
Afternoon sun touched the cloister garth. The office of None had just completed. Sister Teresa walked slowly down the cloister from the church, letting her failing eyesight search for the opening to the garth. Heard the clink of cups on saucers; the chatter of voices; nearby the smell of the flowers in the flowerbeds. Her white stick tapped against the wall as she walked; her arthritic hand gripped it painfully. Felt the sun's rays on her face; the slight breeze touch her habit like as saucy child. Remembered a summer long ago before she entered the convent. The green of grass in her memory and a kiss. Who's kiss? She searched her memory like one seeking through an old chest. Jude. Yes, Jude. Smiled. Felt opening in the wall; turned into the garth. She remembered vaguely his face; felt the grass beneath her feet. Someone touched her arm with their hand. One of the sisters spoke. Not Sister Clare. Dead now. Most of them were she knew. She listened to the tone of the voice; her eyes failed her again. Sister Mark. Her mind grasped the image that fitted the voice. She smiled. Sister Mark had led her by the arm and asked about tea and cake. Tea, yes, no cake, she said. Mama had a similar voice. Mama had said not to let them touch. Not men; not to be trusted. Or was that papa? She couldn't remember. Take it easy, Mother Abbess had told her; take things steady. Fifty years since she came that summer. She recalled the heat of that summer. The cloister's smell of bread and incense. Papa's face when she left home that day; the tears in his eyes; the awkward smile on his lips. No one came now. All dead and buried. Clare in the convent cemetery next to the wall; mole holes along by the gravestone. That had been an adventure in the art of love. A secret known only to God and them. Mea culpa, she whispered. Sister Mark handed a cup and saucer; soft hand touched hers; sweet voice spoke of the weather and the smell of the flowers. Sighed. Breathed in the air. Sipped tea. Cup rattled in the saucer. Stood here once and spoke to all; now few speak; only the kind and brave. Sister Mark spoke of the new novices and of the freshness about them. Sister Teresa looked about her; a vague scan of images; of faces in white and their youthful giggles and chatter. She had been as such once. She, her loves, and her memories. The bell tolled from the cloister clock; voices stilled. The breeze calmed. The sun eased off and hid behind a cloud. Someone took her cup and saucer and placed a hand on her arm. Not to touch, not over much. Mama had said. One of the dead. The God blessed dead. She walked back along the cloister, the hand still on her arm; flesh on flesh. Not to touch, not over much, a soft voice whispered of long ago.
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Nov 28, 2013
Nov 28, 2013 at 9:00 AM UTC
NONE 1957. (PROSE POEM)
Afternoon sun touched the cloister garth. The office of None had just completed. Sister Teresa walked slowly down the cloister from the church, letting her failing eyesight search for the opening to the garth. Heard the clink of cups on saucers; the chatter of voices; nearby the smell of the flowers in the flowerbeds. Her white stick tapped against the wall as she walked; her arthritic hand gripped it painfully. Felt the sun's rays on her face; the slight breeze touch her habit like as saucy child. Remembered a summer long ago before she entered the convent. The green of grass in her memory and a kiss. Who's kiss? She searched her memory like one seeking through an old chest. Jude. Yes, Jude. Smiled. Felt opening in the wall; turned into the garth. She remembered vaguely his face; felt the grass beneath her feet. Someone touched her arm with their hand. One of the sisters spoke. Not Sister Clare. Dead now. Most of them were she knew. She listened to the tone of the voice; her eyes failed her again. Sister Mark. Her mind grasped the image that fitted the voice. She smiled. Sister Mark had led her by the arm and asked about tea and cake. Tea, yes, no cake, she said. Mama had a similar voice. Mama had said not to let them touch. Not men; not to be trusted. Or was that papa? She couldn't remember. Take it easy, Mother Abbess had told her; take things steady. Fifty years since she came that summer. She recalled the heat of that summer. The cloister's smell of bread and incense. Papa's face when she left home that day; the tears in his eyes; the awkward smile on his lips. No one came now. All dead and buried. Clare in the convent cemetery next to the wall; mole holes along by the gravestone. That had been an adventure in the art of love. A secret known only to God and them. Mea culpa, she whispered. Sister Mark handed a cup and saucer; soft hand touched hers; sweet voice spoke of the weather and the smell of the flowers. Sighed. Breathed in the air. Sipped tea. Cup rattled in the saucer. Stood here once and spoke to all; now few speak; only the kind and brave. Sister Mark spoke of the new novices and of the freshness about them. Sister Teresa looked about her; a vague scan of images; of faces in white and their youthful giggles and chatter. She had been as such once. She, her loves, and her memories. The bell tolled from the cloister clock; voices stilled. The breeze calmed. The sun eased off and hid behind a cloud. Someone took her cup and saucer and placed a hand on her arm. Not to touch, not over much. Mama had said. One of the dead. The God blessed dead. She walked back along the cloister, the hand still on her arm; flesh on flesh. Not to touch, not over much, a soft voice whispered of long ago.
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1
Ecce enim in iniquitáte generátus sum, et in peccáto concépit me mater mea, and the cloister smelt of incense, the mulberry tree sheltered us at teatime on the garth, the theologian monk slipped his tea as anyone else speaking of Aquinas, I sipped tea gazing at the Hugh drawn-faced mouthing his tea, furrow browed, Gerald spoke of Wittgenstein over his cup of brew, you can have me she said any which way you please, rain in the distance, dark clouds, biscuits on plates on the trolley, the French monk took one and ate it with such delicacy, I fingered the rosary in my pocket, the silver Christ smooth on fingertips, she flower like, blossoming before me, I was born in sin as all are, the bell chimed a quarter from the clock tower, we sipped beneath the mulberry tree, ate biscuits, sipped dark tea.
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Dec 18, 2015
Dec 18, 2015 at 4:14 AM UTC
BORN IN SIN 1971
The concert was July 27, 1980 I attended the concert with My good friend Garth but sadly Garth and Johnny have passed on someone else has the other shoe but I really don't know who I do remember July 27, 1980 I didn't steal the shoe, it was given to me.
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May 14, 2013
May 14, 2013 at 5:38 AM UTC
Johnny Cash'es shoe
Garth Brookes rocks as we in turn here gently sway... his voice your eyes the rhythmic beat as two hearts become one.
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Mar 14, 2012
Mar 14, 2012 at 9:08 PM UTC
Slow Dancing
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.
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Feb 19, 2016
Feb 19, 2016 at 3:21 AM UTC
LIKE A BIRD 1971.
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.
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85
Before the office of Sext, before lunch, I had time in my cell to have private prayers or meditation and stood at the window and gazed out, the sky blue, white clouds, the abbey visible from where I stood, a monk walked across the garth of grass, hands hidden in the huge pockets, where would you want me? She said, she lay there semi-clothed, arms outstretched, a bell from the clock tower chimed three quarters, without us God will not, Dom Joseph had said during the novice's talk session, without God we cannot,   birds sat on the roof of the clock tower, black and proud, I ran a finger slowly along her inner thigh, she giggled, dribbled, I closed my eyes, soon be Sext, Latin, short prayers, then lunch, food, I lay beside her parting her hairs.
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Nov 30, 2015
Nov 30, 2015 at 3:51 AM UTC
JUST BEFORE SEXT 1971