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L Perry Feb 2018
Before you collapsed
back to the blank face of Ys,
back onto damp sands,

just for an instant,
             I stopped. (in my desk chair)
and saw
your spires, heard your swollen bells
                           and smiled in the sun.

You rose in earnest,
sang to the horizon(!)
the casual and the causal.

the waves eddied around
you and suddenly,
as easily as you drew
from the seabed,

you let me know,

everything that matters
(one day)
collapses.
I was taken aback by this piece today,
I had to write something about it.
sunprincess Dec 2017
Peppermint candy canes
born of the imagination
and peppermint fascination
of a candy maker
Came to be in the year 1670
Or so legend has written

Christmas isn't Christmas
without candy canes
red and white striped
candy canes
Trevor Locke Nov 2017
III. Memoriams

Along the walls the rich dead have their names,
some brazen, gilt or carved in polished stone.
Large monuments displaying all their wealth,
which, by their widow's orders were set up,
and are the handiwork of chartered men,
whose many hours of toil have brought this show
and made the lasting icons of the dead.
But on the white stone pillars you will find
the epitaphs of far more poorer folk
who have, by their own slow and humble ways,
etched out the record of their bye-gone days.
Part of a longer poem
Oculi Nov 2017
The bells of the cathedral we're standing in,
Seething hate, rage, everything horrid within.
The ritualistic percussion sounds off in my head
As I'm looking right ahead. At you. Right ahead.

You ******* despicable horror of a person.
Have you ever tried doing something nice?
Have you ever considered not being such an idiot?
You have the capacities of a teaspoon,
With the mental awareness of a tiny child,
You little stain of ***** on the couch of life.
You were never wanted and you were never loved.
You couldn't show me one thing that makes you worth it.
You can't prove anything to me, I know you.
You're disgusting, you're worth the hate.
You're nothing to me, you ******* maggot.
No wonder you get degraded and taken advantage of.
No wonder nobody wants you and they just use you.
Continue on your worthless existence, you ******* *****.

As I walk towards the gigantic door I came in...
I see him walk off towards the same door in another world.
girl diffused Oct 2017

Wolves hide among the fragrant flowers
Skulk, stalk, pounce, and bite into their prey
****** their maws, their canine, their fang
Don the fleece of the white sheep
Rip out the innards
Garbed in white
Draped like a cloak of purity

Wolves hide in cathedrals
Stalk among the pews
Furs streaked with blood, coated
Defile sanctity
Impregnate
Virginity with something vile
Dark, putrid, and false

She sees the wolf in you
Hears it in words that you utter
Sees it in words that you write
Drunk, sober, aware, unaware
Smells the blood on your maw
Smells the pennies in your breath
Faint, odorous
*
Wolves like you
Hiding in fleece
This came as a direct result of something I experienced last night. It shook me internally to my core and the culmination of those words, the emotions that stirred up as a result, culminated in this piece.

The wolf is Man. Not every man. It can be a singular man for a woman or even a man or anyone, you can change the gender of the "she" to whomever you like. The wolf remains the same. The "fleece" is a covering, a disguise, a shroud of "purity" and deceit that it/He disguises himself in.

The "cathedral" is a place of reverence and worship. I took the age-old adage of "your body is a temple" and turned it into something more historically significant and possibly controversial (for those of us who are iffy on religion. I am actually, but I respect those are who spiritual and religious. I respect their beliefs and stances). The cathedral is Woman's body. It is seen as a place that can be tarnished or worshiped within. It can be ransacked and defiled or vandalized.

IN any case, the poem has its themes of purity and Sin. There aren't many religious undertones here. It's just the slimy and even disturbing feelings a man can conjure up with words. It defines what a woman may experience when she's even revered by someone that presents themselves in one way but is truthfully like a majority of "wolves" out there. They're there for blood and prey.
Silent, unexpected ripples
As the first flakes softly alight on the lake,
A crisp inhale with eyes closed
Followed by a joyous vaporization of cloud.
When vision flutters back into focus,
A spectacle ever-more lovely than the last.
The muffled crunching around the trail,
near-muted chattering of chipmunks,
windy flurries whistling then growing placid,
the softened screech of a hawk
subdued now to an awed whisper -
Mounting and falling like a Debussy.
Clearer and more humbly triumphant
than cathedral bells.

This suite - this bright panorama
Shows me to the brink of an elation within
And brushes my crystalline spirit.
It sings and I overflow -
Light pours drop by rapturous drop
From each eye.
10.9.17
Inktober Prompt: Screech
Rules: The poem is whatever comes out of the pen, no edits allowed.
Leo Oct 2016
the voice of the dim cathedral
haunts my bones
its slim fingers wrap around my neck
and through my skull
a voice from many
releases dawn on the backs of my eyelids
and sets fire to my ribs
a boy beckons us to hail true body
freeing me from earthly restraints
ave verum corpus : william byrd, ora
irinia Aug 2016
in the centre of the cathedral
the square of a little town
where those in the know tell of an invisible cathedral.
a massive guest
the outside light
there is such purity in the pigeons’ feathers
superfine flour falls from the sky
on buildings on trees on people’s shoulders.
small bones rattle echoing in the coffin of a small guitar
while the world can no longer contain happiness.
there at the wall
two lovers wind into an 8.
late. in their shade
a blind horse
is crying sweat from its neck.

Ion Mircea, from *My Cup of Light
KathleenAMaloney May 2016
Beautiful Water
Sweet Spring of Life
You are more than enough as Thee
Each moment  I touch
and retouch your beginning
Willingness to Peace
A moment in time
Shared
Memory
Trickling thru

An orchards flare
Of
Apples picked
Macintosh then
First Learnings
Of the Truth
Gladiolus on the Side
Beauty Freed for
A Mothers Love

Ladder
From
Sustenance
To Grace
Something Sweeter Now
Maple Syrup
Tapped
by Wooded Gate

Johnny
A Real Hero
Changed the World
Kindly
And with Love

One Thought
His Pure expression
Always the Same
Gods Good
Life
Guitar String
For the Earth

His Arrow
Split the Heart in Two
An Apple
Felled
To the Ground

Witness
To a World UNComing
Mournful Courage
Put Away
A  soldiers
Duty
Paid
Prince
of
Brotherhood

St James

You Now
Are Made
Memorial Day.. A Purple Heart for the world ..
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