"manse" poems
1423
The fairest Home I ever knew
Was founded in an Hour
By Parties also that I knew
A spider and a Flower—
A manse of mechlin and of Floes—
5.7k
Out on the marsh on a lonely night
The wind soughs through his rags,
The hat that’s pinned to his painted face,
Flutters and soars, then sags,
His eyes are wide and his mouth is grim
As an owl is put to flight,
And nothing but shadows will venture there
For the Scarecrow rules the night.
And back in the manse in a window seat
The Parson’s daughter sits,
She stares at the fluttering coat-tails, but
In truth, is scared to bits,
She watches the sails of the windmill turn
And creak and groan in the gloom,
As clouds come stuttering over the marsh
In the rays of a Harvest Moon.
The father is out in the donkey cart
To tend to his aging flock,
He’s left Elizabeth waiting there
By the tick of the hallway clock,
But out on the moors and beyond the marsh
There rides one Highway Jack,
A frock coat topped with a bunch of lace
And a gold trimmed tricorne hat.
He’s whipped the horse to a lather
In a retreat from a new affray,
For the magistrates have gathered
Vowing to ride him down that day,
The redcoats wait in the village Inn
For the sound that they know too well,
When the curate sees the approaching horse
He’s to toll the old church bell.
But the curate lies in a drunken fit
On the floor of the old church nave,
And soon, by matins his soul will flit
From life to an early grave,
Elizabeth sits in the window seat
And thinks of the coin and plate,
As the highwayman dismounts, and ties
His horse to the manse’s gate.
He beats on the door, ‘Please let me in,
I’m weary and faint, that’s all.
I wouldn’t abuse your person, but
I fear my back’s to the wall.’
She leaves the seat and she slides the bar
For bracing the oaken door,
‘I dare not, sir, I fear for my life,
You’re safer out on the moor!’
Their voices echo across the marsh
Like fear, distilled in the night,
And something shudders out in the gloom
And lurches to left and right,
It seems forever, but now a sound
Tolls out, like a final knell,
For something, out in the church tonight,
Is tolling the steeple bell.
He barely makes it back to his horse
When the redcoats stand in line,
Their muskets fire a volley of shot
And his coat turns red, like wine.
They go to the church when the deed is done
To say, ‘You have done well!’
But the curate lies on the cold stone floor,
The Scarecrow tolled the bell!
David Lewis Paget
Jul 30, 2013
Jul 30, 2013 at 10:30 PM UTC
On my knees
where the sparrows
nova... and the long, thin
whiskers of Time
thumb the fob
of our dissident
Luck.
The schoolgirl in your mind
knitting halos with amethyst
sins.
a poor cloud on the veranda
of our unhappy Manse,
and a quarter moon
to lie
too,
Jul 30, 2015
Jul 30, 2015 at 2:51 PM UTC
I am the road-paver,
I am the stone-setter,
the aimless wonderer.
Not a second glance
as I lay the manse,
but not a chance
that I receive praise
for this golden runway
on which you will parade.
But, how lovely is she
dancing content, so free,
she makes it look so easy.
I'm not one for pride
but dance shoes worn and dried,
yet only given a small aside.
I am the road-paver,
the stone-setter,
the aimless wonderer,
don't mind me, I'll just be
keeping quiet,
because I know better.
Sep 18, 2014
Sep 18, 2014 at 10:33 AM UTC
John James Stanley Whyte
why would you not
do what was right
man of the cloth
man of the sea
(at least in uniformity)
privileged hypocrite
evader of consequence
Doctor of Divinity
all that's divine
about you, is me
Used my mother
because you could
refused to acknowledge
you're in my blood
was it due to the class divide
that you found it so easy
to throw us aside?
Whenever she wanted
to punish me
she'd list the ways
I took after you
say I was created
in your image
say that your visage
was mirrored in me
that the nose I hated
was exactly like yours
and that was hard to take
She showed me a cutting
someone sent to her
from the Scotsman I think
or perhaps some local rag
from Edinburgh, where you were
saying you'd been bound over
for indecent exposure
from the window of your Manse
where you stood naked
though whether ***** it did not say
And she'd beg me
not to turn out like you
and I would ask
in my innocence
what she meant by that
"He's a ladies' man" she'd reply
and I had no clue
what she meant by this
yet even then
the idea of nakedness
sent a tingle up my spine
though I didn't like
what I had to show
felt it wasn't really mine
You had a life of comfort
while ours was hand to mouth
did anything ever stick to you
did your conscience ever twinge
did you ever even wonder
what became of me?
I'm not sure why I never yet
tried to track you down
perhaps it shows my utter contempt
or on the other hand
maybe I felt being rejected once
was once more than enough
and a second time would be
two more than I should take
yet at times I wonder
what fate had in store for you
because if your karma
didn't catch up with you
it sure as hell got me
Cynthia Pauline Jones 23/9/2013
Mar 17, 2014
Mar 17, 2014 at 7:38 AM UTC
We two were born on the same day
An Ocean apart, a world away.
My Dad dug graves,
His Dad owned stores
We both looked forward
to one day more.
The world then changed
for Him and me.
Both off to university.
I went to Queens
He attended Cologne
He partied with Models
I sat home alone.
The world then changed
for Him and me.
He became a captain
of industry.
With a Manse in the Mountains
and one by the shore.
I rented a place
for one day more.
The world then changed
unexpectedly
it was he who succumbed
to infirmity
When all his wealth
his billions, his stores,
failed to purchase
him one day more.
The World has changed
Just I go on
My wealthy twin
is dead and gone.
No wealthier that I was before
Yet enriched by the gift
of one day more.
Dec 21, 2012
Dec 21, 2012 at 11:14 PM UTC
My foes were all defeated, my enemies were shamed
And for remembrance, a Holiday proclaimed
-
This year that day will fall, will fall on March the 4th
The Persians do remember, and forevermore henceforth
-
I notice a coincidence, is this by luck or chance?
A speech is to be given, in a special manse
-
The date is March the 3rd, the "manse" is in DC
The Speaker is a Head of State...we will see what comes to be
Feb 22, 2015
Feb 22, 2015 at 3:14 AM UTC
Lawrence Hall, HSG
[email protected]
The High Priest Kisses King Herod’s (Hands)
His Eminence the Cardinal of New York
The High Priest kisses King Herod’s (hands)
And joins him for a feast of mockeries and lies
Giving the tyrant for his crimes a pass
Laughing at Truth as civilization dies
Over lobster and beef they pity the poor
While robed in white ties and evening gowns
And silken ecclesiastical couture
(One of them has visions of papal crowns)
Gluttony and scorn at a rented manse -
All that is missing is Salome’s dance
Oct 19, 2024
Oct 19, 2024 at 12:21 PM UTC
A Peregrine Falcon circled the vast expanse of grounds surrounding the huge manse in Old Pasadena. It soared, looking for a favorable tree to land upon. Rabbit hunting. The bunnies loved to crop the grass growing on the expansive lawns.
The bright wind played windchimes of the leaves of the trees, a lilting, rustling sound barely heard above the birdsong of midmorning in Pasadena. A normal morning in every way. But not for Sir Arthur Barrett. Nor his murderer.
Lord Arthur's heels beat a tattoo on the Persian rug in his library. His hands first scattered the pieces of the puzzle he'd been working on, then grasped at his throat, constricted as it was by the plastic bag stretched across his face and neck. The muffled sound barely heard over the cacophony of birds...
---
The old mansion where Lord Arthur met his violent demise was named Puzzle Tree Mansion, in part by the many Puzzle Trees growing on its property, but that was not the only reason. The entire mansion was a puzzle.
Every room of it. Each had a secret. A false bottom drawer. A secret passageway. You even had to solve a riddle to work the bidets in the bathrooms! In short, it was a puzzle, within a riddle, within a conundrum. Sir Arthur had loved it that way. He had, in his lifetime been a writer of mysteries. The author of arguably the most popular American mystery... The Monkey
Puzzle Box.
Jan 16, 2022
Jan 16, 2022 at 8:01 PM UTC