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Poetic T Jan 2016
The bells tolled in silent air, no mummers
Where uttered in haste as white cloth over
Black draped upon their figures.

On the desecrated reminisce of ash petals
That grow in this place each is picked with
Elegance so not to fracture there fragility.

A new one Is found to replace those that
Unveiled their voices on solemn oaths to words
Never to be uttered, they surrendered it t air.

Voices of blood echoed on the floor, a chastity
Forsaken and white cloth drank upon the wine
Till it had its fill, then voiced its intent in puddles.

The shaded leaf was gently dissected between fingers
And where lips blessed word, the ash sealed them with
The twine of dead embers, and they screamed silently.

Silken coverings where bestowed on the vacant realms
Of purities, in the convent of silence where the dead
Don't speak and muteness is a sound only heard.
B Young Dec 2015
At this point, I chase the white rabbit
merely out of habit/

My, what big blue beautiful eyes she has.
All the better to eat me with, my dear.
And
My, what lovely lips she has.
All the better to see me with, my dear.
And
Those big swinging hips,
All the better to ****** me with, my dear.
And
Her ringing voice in my ear,
dissolves any fear.

The tide ever rolling,
rollicking into the beach
As
we are high, frolicking,
into the undertow tide,
to hide, from death inevitable.
My, what hair, let down, wrung out,
without a care, and through
this tangled hair.
My, death hath no sting nor fury,
for a man such as this,
me as it were,
her love,
oh my,
is pure purgatory.

Following the rabbit to the abbot,
white wolf unknown, disguised in full
habit.

Like leading lambs to the slaughter/
Like leading lambs to the slaughter/

A love such as this,
won in a bar barter.
Reach beneath her dress,
toss back the garter.
.
I beseech,

I do not think it will land in my hand  

And I will continue to chase the white rabbit,
purely out of habit.
Terry Collett Jun 2015
Hey Kid
Anne says

Benny follows
to where
she calls him

what is it?
he asks

go get my chair

your wheel chair?

yes my wheel chair
what other kind
of chair do I have

ok
he says
and goes off
over the green lawn

passing kids
on the swing and slide

pass the skinny nun
who has just come
whom Anne says
looks like a clarinet
she's so thin

in through
the French windows
passing a girl
who has ****** burns
but who manages
to smile at him

in down the hall
into the girl's dormitory
and takes hold
of Anne's wheel chair
and is just about he
to wheel it out

when Sister Blaise
stops him
where are you going
with that Benny?
she asks

he looks at the nun
with her stern features
and icy blue eyes

it's for Anne
he says

did she ask you
to get it?

he looks at
the crucifix
on the wall
behind the nun's head

no I saw she was
struggling
and thought it best
to bring it to her
he says

taking in
the Crucified's head
leaning to one side
eyes half open
as if He were
looking at him

is that the truth?
the nun asks

he nods
and puts on
his Mr Innocent face

all right off you go
she says
eyeing him
as he wheels the chair
along the passageway

and out through
the French windows
and across the lawn
at full belt

until he comes
to where Anne stands
propped painfully
on her crutches
any problems?
she asks

no
he replies
trying to get
the nun's
icy blue stare
out of his eyes.
A BOY IN A NURSING HOME IN 1959.
Terry Collett Jun 2015
On the beach
in the sun
Anne sits

in her chair
her one leg
hanging down

her leg stump
out of sight
she's beside

Skinny kid
who reclines
in a small

blue deckchair
other kids
sit around

fussed over
by three nuns
from the home

the tides out
so some kids
paddle out

ankle deep
listen kid
I hear one

of the nuns
had you in
to question

in secret
what'd they ask?
Anne asks

it's secret
Benny says
I know that

but tell me
I'm your friend
Anne says

Benny looks
around him
about you

they asked me
about you
Benny says

Anne frowns
about me?
Benny nods

what'd they ask?
what you did
what you  said

and did you
make me do
anything

Benny says
what'd you say?
I said you

were my friend
my best friend
Benny says

what'd they say?
Sister Blaise
the fat nun

said it was
a big sin
to tell lies

what'd you say?
Anne asks
I told her

I guess so
was that all?
can I go?

Benny says
Anne smiles
good work Kid

keep the ****
penguins stumped
and things hid.
A BOY AND A ONE LEGGED GIRL AT HOME IN 1959
Francie Lynch Apr 2015
I recognized her familiar gait
As she left ambulatory care
At Bluewater Health,
Once St. Joseph's Hospital.
I knew her as a devout care-giver.
Her spring showed her hope
In the gods within,
And faith in her God without.
A surety in her higher power.
I share her faith crossing bridges,
Or waiting for autumn's bulbs
To sprout and flower.

The Sisters have retreated
To the Mother House,
Mission accomplished,
No longer caring
For the sick and worried.

The civilians marched in,
Diagnosing annuities,
Giving change.

The Sisters wait for Pentecost,
For the whosh and whirl
Of expectant miracles
They once ministered.
RW Dennen Oct 2014
This Black African nun in cherished photo
she calls our right to vote
Her kindness in her laughing squinting eyes,
and her kind bow smile to match
The voice of liberty written and etched upon
her kind and brilliant face; all imprinted for years
to come

All hail her bus with her sisters all in one;
a beautiful chariot on busy wheels that run
across our nation to give a helping hand
And lift our thirsty spirits on a dry and desolute land

They hold that lamp of liberty on kind hands
and gentle voice, but strong in truth be known,
to hold our basic right, to close those drapes and
snap a switch, to a voice of our own

They cross our land in valor in gentleness and kind
these nuns of liberty and justice in an unjust time

Their hearts are made from goodness; their strength
so often done, in a land so heavily pillaged, they will
never never succumb. They see a new sun rising over
the distant hill
They know their work of justice never to be still...
This is dedicated to "BUS OF NUNS"
an actual group of nuns making a positive pitch against
voter ID laws and Jerrymandering
Terry Collett May 2014
Anne,
one legged,

crutched herself
through passageway

and hall,
passed kitchen,

leg stump swaying,
green dress flowing,

out through
the French windows,

moving by me
in the doorway,

pushing by
the boss-eyed nun,

out into the garden,
shouting loudly:

WHERE’S
THE ****** SUN!
ONE LEGGED GIRL IN A NURSING HOME IN 1950S ENGLAND.

— The End —