Stepping into tights.
Stepping into tights.
Church Coffee I am a mug personally glazed with blue skies green tinged-clouds and the word “fly” They come around to fill me with steaming drink but their aim is off splashing consistently onto the handle only a drop or two lands in the cup and then out of the kitchen into the sanctuary this coffee is poured truly but no one sips the brew another day, another kitchen but no coffee here cider, my brew though poured truly, mixes strangely with the grounds that came before
I haven't written in a long time (but am trying desperately to start again!) So this is a poem I wrote in late 2007.
We're in this place
Of blinding things
We're in disgrace
We have clipped His wings
Lost in this crowd
Of sinful, earthly people
I'm screaming so loud
They are burning Your steeple
Save Your wife
To watch her walk so staggeredly towards the filling room
Tears now swelling my eyes as she stumbles to the Groom
Where am I?
“At my inn. You were unconscious
When he brought you here.”
**These are shorter poems with no relation to each other whatsoever.... I guess this is kind of like Anna's Nonsense Poets, but I'm not planning on making more of these....**
In archaic stones, imposing structure,
A simple soul lived under
The mantle of artists great,
Close to Mother's Heart.
Out the door this simple heart
With stringed instrument did depart
From the convent walls,
On her way to choir loft.
At the transept, on bended knee*
A child waited prayerfully.
Innocent and unseeing,
Her red dress like a warning sign.
Small feet guided upon the steps,
Closer to the Divine Princeps.**
Above the shrinking pews below
The simple soul set her.
*I don't know what made me think of this today, but here's what came of it...*
It was green, I remember,
fields stretching long,
and bushes hunched together
It was stone, I remember,
statues, steps, path
grass growing through the cracks
and the pool full of our reflections
It was damp, I remember
on a cloudy day under sweeping trees
reaching high with rustling leaves,
and the little house in the shadows with cobwebby sills
On one side of my there is masked joy, the other there are cries
I want to open for the scared, but those in charge of me left me locked
I want to open wide
I need them to know that they need help
I feel terrible that I am stuck
I thought this was a church
Why am I locked then?
I should be left open
What does God think?
Does He know I want to be open?
It became quiet inside…
What is happening?
Someone is coming to me with the key
There are tears
I am open
Now people are coming