i am stuck at the bottom of a well i dug with my own hands
the stain from dirt on my nail beds
is too embedded to be cleansed
ablution wont be found here
a purposeless place too sunken for sustenance to fill
water is too pure and too righteous to visit me here
i befriend the cracked walls and we trade stories of misery
rain has forgotten to fall at my feet like she used to
the sound of quiet has been silenced by the weight of my past
burdening me with a tune of melancholy
“what say you, dear friend? will you stay by my side or will you let the lion die?
its hunger, coating you in arrogance
unwilling to accept your nature
the people no longer rest here, and the water that once lived here has ascended back into the sky
yet only you, my dear friend have found comfort in the nothing i have become”
the voice croaked and dry, lonely walls who comfort an unstable mind
He knew he'd suffer a cruel persecution
He performed all that was needed for ablution.
Certain secrets, as a priest, he could not disclose
Indeed, he chose thorns for himself, not any rose.
He went with his secret as a lynx or a fish.
To be steadfast in his faithfulness was his wish.
For a secret's sake, he's ready to face a sword.
Would he confide his heart to his master and lord?
International faith
Identical for your thought
Idolatry rejected
Surrender to God
Submit high morality
Safety to your heart
Light in the darkness
Largess liberality
Last justice lawful
All peoples message
Ably ablution to pray
A generous soul
Magnify all you
Mainly to balance your soul
Maintain your spirit
Acrostic Senryu's.
Once I purchased a book about
Total Recall
It might be of
Re-cap-i–tulation
Rum-i-nation
Or glorious immigrant stories….
But I failed to reach even
a library spot…
Too high a ladder.
Your ablution will falsify
Your ebb and flood tides
In Between, O Bed-Win!
In MS-DOS!
Hodge Podge!
Just Because!
Reading
is a nutmeg , seals
ap-Pen-Di-x
It sits in Perth-e-Non
For no good reason, hypertension.
And I silenced the speaker
TBD Key note narrator.
To-get-her
In the kingdom of ladies’ purses
Courses, topics and item songs too.
Never found a Trace lagos
Other than the fact that
He, too is a fire-fighter
Who was a gifted
“The God of small things.”
Passed souls. Pious. Tranquil eyes.
O! I adore ex-IT!
Just because
Ed-it-Ed
Is in void.
Voided.
Ban-n-ed
In Banff.
Muslim clerics
Said
Supposedly
C0-ED
As If
Maw
In
Maw-Rita-nia
In Mahmoud Darwish’s life, Jaded.
Glory in Faded, dim-lit stone, enlighten-ed!
Anyone? Someone?
Ahoy mates!
Savior?
Reverie? Ben-Hur?
Is there anyone alive out there?
Can anyone hear me?
It rained and poured heavily as never before
Washing away hills,downs and the plain;
Sure it was a commited lofty drain
To revive the struggling, straggling live galore;
Lightings thunder like pretentious promoters
Heckled over the ravage and disorder
Off and beyond all stay and border;
Nothing but just Water : muddy ripples and floaters
Strange it is the serene freshness and poise
Follows all such mockery excess and ablution
The essence of being is contained within evolution
While all human play and way fills noise
And only sound and fury to conclude
In hallow vain , absurd and futile a feud.
washing away waves
rivers aneal wretched seas
ablution flows free
by
David Kavanagh
The throne in heaven is accident prone,
if you are a God please don’t go alone,
take a few angels when you have to go,
get them to fan their wings so they don’t throw!
it was Thor who broke the seat with hammer,
must control temper, learn to be calmer,
no need for thunder lightening at loo,
with prunes at breakfast, should easily do!
Venus is embarrassed to share cabin,
fears would be spied by soul of Rasputin,
with her each flush there is radiant glow,
her acts of ablution are morning show!
And Jupiter has not been well either,
he can hardly see! that old old geyser!
his toilet use? it’s all over the place!
his toilet habits are heaven’s disgrace!
the chain over the cistern is rusty old,
you would think it is made of solid gold?
when you pull the chain you hear a gush,
their well is dry, no water in the flush!!
No wonder God’s come to earth as Avatars!
our clean toilets on earth score full five stars!!
Written 28/10/2021
10 syllables each line
Jack Webster sponsored
The Throne in heaven contest
I think your package was delivered today
left by a stranger from a cold lonely
truck, left on a broody day when you need tea
we must look at it as our contribution
to life that seems crazy— a kind of ablution
though we stay in our walker and wheelchair
as we listen and watch a world that we hear and we share
and the world seems to grow more gloomy and sad
we can only do so much from home and on a keypad
I once was out and about knocked on doors
went to meetings, signed petitions galore
God now I feel like sitting in my house what a crone
just tv, doctor appts, a phone, and so alone
sending a reminder that life was a comical ad tragic and funny
something to send to a friend something chummy
something to moan and groan about and accept it as life
the craziness and cruelty the kindness and the strife
something with rhymes that is funny for a friend
so the book I read and thought about -- to you I send
Hope you enjoy trumpty dumpty
In bottles corked by a nursing mother
Against thirst that would her baby bother;
In large drums hoarded by ablution-enthused Muslim
Who stories of its scarcity take with eyes unusually dim.
A dry cleaner’s spiteful curse of a dry tap
That wouldn’t help his trade, a hurting slap!
The keyed-up state of a seeker of a mouthful of it,
An insight into the whiplashes of not conserving a bit,
As much so, the helplessness of a camel driver
Belatedly aware of no oasis ahead nor the look-alike of a river.
Water is the double assurance of life in a world unlived,
To this end, a phenomenon that should be believed
While it continues with a dignified silence
Against foes teaching Rubbishy Science.
Water is never by, parched throats disdained
Rather ‘Archbishop’ by Adam’s Apple ordained;
Always usefully engaged here
And productively canalized there...
But watch it, in a big one, you go down
And you are sure to drown!
THE DUNNY BRUSH
It has been here since modern sewerage was begun
and each water closet usually has at least one.
But to get a participant to use it, can really be a chore.
Most folk will use the paper but sadly for some, the Dunny brush ignore.
We have warned, scolded and abused them about their stain,
To grab the handle and scrub up and down again and again and again.
Many just don`t get it . They will not own their own poo,
so they leave it in the bowl. It is not their responsibility to clean the flamin loo.
So we have had workshops for the solution,
To brainstorm and solve the concern for this ablution.
Some have installed water jets to clean the soiled parts,
While others have janitors who make regular inspections while pushing their cleaning carts.
Alas, around here these luxuries we haven`t got,
so we ask you the Guest, to give it your best shot.
To learn the art of the toilet brush is easy, so don`t do your thing and run.
Grab it by the handle between forefingers and the thumb.
Now scrub it hard and sure till all traces are unstuck.
If it has caused you to sweat a bit, just remember,
It isn`t ours or theirs, its your smelly muck.
Clouds encircle
sage colored dreams,
ice crystals block the sky
Today in shadows,
yesterday’s warning,
memories start to cry
The stratus thickens,
impending doom,
prophesy to remind
Aeolus has woken,
his rain of tears
—ablution most unkind
(Dreamsleep: April, 2021)
Though they filed in one by one and marching to the music
The decree was silence yet those devils kept marching
The Day of Judgement has been coming for a long time
Praying for solace , and waiting for the rain
Refreshing rain to wash the parade of inequity but the marching
The rain doesn’t condemn ,it renews and refreshes and remembers
Remembers the past and nurtures the future and the tide
Don’t forget the tide , it brings one in and takes it back
Those rubberneckers keep me alert for the Sun
They get inside of me waiting for me to make just one mistake
But the sun waits for me as well as does the rain but the marchers
They plod on and on but God found me free and gave me ablution
Let the bells toll, the children sing and the sun shine on all of me
If the thought doesn’t fit you must acquit
For All who suffer Depression
Slowly swept clean the old footprints-graphs
by the harsh tide, soaring waves and white surfs
On the pavements of the sky monarchy
the miserable odor of the past is flying curtly
Now, it’s the sharp edge of a pandemic year
The end comes but not as an eternal end, it’s a gyre
Dale, hilly mail and mountain of the lost
at the bank of setting down the sun, it’s a ghost
By born free soul wants to fly high, wants freedom
But in the mournful living cage, it faces only doom
Whatever, here we, the human is true authority of this
We have to solve all seen-unseen problems with peace
So, let’s say goodbye this grief-stricken year with a firm conviction
Let's welcome next year to a healthy, eco-friendly world ablution
-19.12.2020 Chattogram
she made a desperate leap but once more missed the boat
had to absolve her failure by swimming in ablution creek
the water was murky and viscous but therefore she floated
the sheen on her skin blessed her strokes in polluted disguise
distant proximity posed a new challenge as she sifted the debris
of her sad heart punctured by thrash of emotions and feelings
as astern backwash propelled her journey back to its start
when she bobbed up and down to the bottom of her resolve
she felt the stagnant drift of many years by the ocean shore
where she had been unable to set neither sail nor cast an anchor
restless and yes apathetic she had watched her rusty engine
to stay close to the harbour of uncertainty and bracken water
like a bubble from sunken Atlantis buried deep in her soul
the missed ferry sank because of too many passengers aboard
who attempted to catch the same wavelength of rapid departure
and she threw them a lifeline for she knew about safe passage
dolphins jumped up and down to the applause of the lighthouse
keeper whose beard was so long as to serve as yarn for the rescue
sometimes missed opportunities deliver grace in selfless struggle
She only leaves me when it’s raining,
to wash away the pain
Clouds an ablution to her memories dark,
drowning a past refrain
She returns as the skies are clearing,
to dry inside my warmth
Our love in place until thunder breaks
—again to chase the storm
(Dreamsleep: May, 2020)
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