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Anthony Williams Aug 2014
Walking a park of flowers around York Minster
tickets in pocket for the festival of early music
colours singing to the sound of the past like minstrels
until I rounded a corner and found all I'd ever seek
in the slightly forlorn sight of a single rose
a captive to love's tune and white as a frozen sheet
hoping for a spare ticket to hear the angel voice
of a choir in concert as beyond compare as she
“sit no longer dear lady - share with me” and spirits rose

white rose in my veins when in time we hugged shuddering
as a cold coat of feeling moults tunes on to your lips
secure in silent truce in mon amour doubt shedding
deep petal armour on a second skin to get a grip
when stems entwine in a new warm understanding
as if about to fall back in time to retrace steep steps
so lean forehead forward on your soft drop strands
shoulders combine soldier sidearms with giddy happiness
heart stopping red passion stitching together bled thorns

I pretend a meek surrender giving ground to fate
but secretly hope to surround with pikes where you sit
heart's drum beat rallying to rush up lush slopes
search parties in the choir stalls but sound you out
dislodging bared hearts so tales compare more freely
pushing with the weight of growing pains in concert
to get your defensive walls to tumble away to reveal
a many levelled playing field of mutually shared delight
where music is the food of love served for every meal

you give no quarter but a quavering piece to which I lay claim
to shield how I revel in each quiver at advancing forces
raising my standards to meet your church steeple climbs
but still ardour yields to the scale of your appeal en masse
torn from arduous verse to verse praising that limb this limb
I submit and sense a chance of permanent heaven in this peace
as like a knave on the trail of your scent summits crumble
into the rolled out treaty rosy perfume in precipitous ravines
where I pin chivalrous titles to the brush of knightly leaves

snared in the honeyed trap nave of your thorns
abandoning myself to the rapture entwined with love
winning the soul rights to capture and chaperone
a concerted effort which brought you to the fore
by the devious role of fate and by divine charm
by some device and by far ranging gentle force
of arms which did no harming
and by the loving voices
of angel choristers
which sing now to break the ice
as loudly as they have
down the ages before us
by Anthony Willliams
The Wars of the Roses were a series of dynastic wars for the throne of England. They were fought between supporters of two rival branches of the royal House of Plantagenet, the houses of Lancaster (red rose) and York (white rose). They were fought in several sporadic episodes between 1455 and 1487.
Francie Lynch May 2015
I read Noah brought the animals in;
And with them brought in
All our sins.
But virtues too were marched within,
And ever since we've worn their skins.

The jackal with his wrathful jaws,
Hides behind the jungle laws.

The peacock arrayed in full feathers,
Can hide his pride with his betters.

The snake that dropped from the tree,
Moults rejection with envy.

The toad, the food chain's first to feed,
Like fat cats fill themselves with greed.

The goat devours like the locust,
Feeding on with gluttonous lust.

The smallest snail in silken cloth,
Moves like justice, slow as sloth.

The pig avoids austerity,
While feeding on dignitarities.

Other animals Noah rescued
Saved humanity by their virtue.

The swan disdains adultery
By embracing life-long chastity.

The camel slurping with prudence,
Eludes drought through temperance.

Birds feed their fledgling adeptly
With mouth to mouth charity.

The ****** known to be a nuisance
Will dam your life with dilligence.

The dog whose loyalty is constant
Waits and wags with patience.

A horse that's never riderless
Will run all day with kindliness.

The gentle lamb of allegory
Is Christ-like in humility.

The ark may not be history,
But works explaining humanity
Through eons of mythology.
He didn't really bring them in,
They weren't in danger,
We're in their skins.
The seven deadlies are accepted, but the seven virtues are up for interpretation.
Monicah Kiptoo Apr 2014
I'm in love with a diabolical being
Consume me with the evil of your
soul
Let us drown to the depths of darkness
Drag me to hell then we'll come back

Then I will teach you how to pray,trust and forgive
And you will learn how to have faith
I'll teach you how to live without having to churn and spin your evil threads

Let's cry blood and crush our own hearts
Then thereafter we'l baptise our own souls
And cleanse our own beings
Then we'll be rid of our sinful venom

I will hold you as you choke on your lies
Then offer a glass of salvation when you've struggled enough
I'll let your skin burn till it moults
So you can regret your every sin

I will be your mirror;I will keep your secrets as they are mine
Drag me to hell then we'll come back
Then you won't have to question where we belong...
On the profound side of faith and virtues.

We shall not live in pretence!
Just because we have the courage to
But instead we shall live ib righteousness
How I love thee;let me count the ways
Sticking with through the changes
telumne Nov 2023
i love teeth and bones and feathers. i love little left-behind bug moults and snake sheds. i love snail shells, i love clumps of old fur. i love shed antlers and trampled flora, pawprints and hoofprints left in mud. i love shrieking foxes and mourning doves. i love slugs and toads. i love the smell of decay, i love the smell of rotting leaves. i love the smell of petrichor, of fed earth, wet soil just after it rains. i love muck and puddles and grass stains and burs stuck to my pants and sappy fingers. i love dewdrops on the grass, i love roly-polies under rocks, i love worms seeking rain. i love the earth and grass under my bare feet. i love the sun on my back. i love the wind in my clothes. i love the heartbeat of the earth. i love how she breathes.
< mother world.  quiet little planet.  unappetizing visual delights. >

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