"talitha" poems
i
Damsel in distress, open thine soul to me, open thine chest
Colleen of medieval lace, of darling face, I'll taketh thee now;
Yet how canst I taketh one? If none is around, Talitha cuna ghost
I seeketh even thine smoke, wherever thou art, mine spirit waits.
ii
A repast banquet awaiteth for one, a table sitteth here, chairs for two; two chairs as I sitteth and eateth alone, the plàtes art full, though none amour' to tryeth the desert, none next to me for the fruit punch of thirst. Only me staring at an empty blank wall.
iii
Now mine eye's do crawl, searching the hearkening clearance
None was ever here, just signs of emptiness, and mine own disappearance, as at that moment, when the fine dinner was set; mine heart fluttered backwards, being alone, mine spirit left.
©Brandon nagley
©Lonesome poets poetry
Aug 3, 2015
Aug 3, 2015 at 8:31 AM UTC
Blonde hair, blue eyes
In the night she cries and cries..
It was four years ago of living hell
But you've made it fairly well
You were blind
You could not see
All that you were ending
But He saved you from yourself
Picked you up out of the dirt
Cleaned you up and restored you
He gave you life and authority
There's no reason to remain
Full of shame and cloaked in pain
I learned from you, Mary.
You're NOT forever 15.
So much on my heart tonight
So much on my mind
And if I could I'd ask, Why?
Why look back?
Stepping back is no way to walk into the future
You're stronger than the past
You're better than you know
You are not who you were
You're not alone
Talitha Koum
I may be steering in the wrong direction
But this feels familiar. Broken
I recognize this hurt too well
Discernment has something to tell
I may be selfish for hurting
But I know you're hurting too
By life which is so unexpected
With changes made, some regretted
But the battle is not yours
Flesh is not made to win the war
I know your scarred and tired
But merely your weakness is required
God has you
He's been holding your hand
He's picked you up now for your legs have grown feeble
Steady now He walks with you as your tears hit His shoulder
Collecting them, He cries too
He knows the pain that's gripping you
But remember, dear child, His promise to you
He will give you rest.
In the midst of every burden, little one,
He will give you rest.
Mar 7, 2014
Mar 7, 2014 at 6:58 PM UTC
How could He not keep you, once He’d had a glimpse,
Of your incredible light and the supernova of your existence?
It would be selfish to think that we could hold onto you,
When your very heart was larger than all we know.
How could He not keep you, once He’d had you near,
Once he’d heard you sing His praises in reverence and joy?
It would be foolish to think that any being could know
Such a beautiful soul, and let it slip away.
How could He not keep you, once He’d seen your Grace,
Your gentleness and kindness, the way you showed us love?
It would be dishonesty to say that, all being said,
I wouldn’t have done the same.
How could anyone not love you, once they knew your soul,
The way you ran after Jesus, the way you inspired life in us all?
It would be a darker world had you not been in it,
If you had not walked alongside us, a breath of glorious sunshine.
We prayed that you would open your eyes,
But you opened them in Heaven.
Oct 6, 2019
Oct 6, 2019 at 3:36 PM UTC
my skin is made of dystopian days knitted together
until they resemble the dying seconds of my worst light
i am naked as a gaunt body under an indigo sunset — its weak light beams
feel like the browning stems of a *****
and my wrist is the soil, the aftermath of a war —
has it ended?
has the ground stopped rotting?
has my body?
i hope it doesn't get worse than this.
my skin is a piece of a brick wall
inside an abandoned church, it echoes
a kind of desperation, a kind of compulsion:
what am i doing?
what am i doing?
what am i doing?
i am a widow that prays to gods who are long gone,
in a church that no one visits anymore.
my skin is a map of prayers in a dead language
and there is no new word for the kind of mourning
the kind that silence can barely contain
without breaking into a scream.
it has always been loaded; i have always been loaded
in my fragile stillness, in my best and worst lights.
i hope i don't get worse than this.
Jul 16, 2021
Jul 16, 2021 at 4:36 AM UTC
Harden not your heart
You cannot harden it when
You are crying. Cry a little
For yourself and for me too
It is better we care enough
For Love that it should not
Die. The love we had before
Can be ours again -the liquor
Aged is sweeter still. from our
Time apart. Arise my chi Drink
The aqua vit. the living waters
We shall drink to our love that is
Sweeter than wine as life is to one
Who is newly risen from the grave
Thanks be to God my child lives
He is the risen Lord the Christ who
Did this. I will joyful sing his praises
Forever more and for all who ask Him
In Prayer from to let their love live
Forever He will say: Arise my child. And
it shall be done to all who call upon Him
Come to me all ye broken hearted. Fly
To me bird with broken wing He say:
Sing to me with Faith and Hope and with
Your tears I will hear your song who cannot
Sing and it shall be done unto you as you
Have done unto me It is I who in you lives.
-
Feb 5, 2019
Feb 5, 2019 at 3:03 PM UTC