The cathedral was still lit late at night
dance music played faintly t
the drapes waved gently
the feet spun and floated
the silhouette danced gracefully
the silhouette grabbed a hand and spun
the silhouette spun in love late at night
the silhouette was alone
there was no hand to hold
there was no body to spin it in the air
but the music still hummed softly
the silhouette left
the silhouette let go of its grip.
Searching the smoking ruins
of Notre-Dame cathedral,
on the Paris Île de la Cité,
one of the finest examples medieval
of French Gothic architecture,
with flying buttresses, a rib vault,
immense bells,
enormous colourful rose windows
all of which went through hell
during the fearful fire of 2019,
and it was seen
he'd been through the wringer
when looking for Quasimodo
they found a dead ringer
Westminster Abbey
if only it could speak
ah... the stories
Dawn in the cathedral,
Hearts at Zion's Gate,
They converge to inquire,
To seek the light.
Darkness has trailed them,
The strange lurks around,
Nightfall harbingers the eerie,
They are unseen invaders.
Mystery blankets the land,
Murky waters run through,
Shadows walk at midnight,
These the sages foretold.
Before the morning light,
They gather to pray,
To seek the Divine,
In the pristine cathedral.
January 29, 2025.
Colors once blossomed radiantly
Filling the canvas with life and hope
Brightening even the darkest room
With love and prosperity
The ceiling once stood tall and proud
Even in the face of the worst storms
The walls were a profound comfort
In the deepest of desolation
People once congregated here
Filling the room with laughter
As smiles peppered every face
It was but a sense of community
What once was is no more
For here I remain in a crumbling ruin
With a battered faced
And tattered clothes all alone
For the years have not been kind
When days are long but years are fast
The degradation of health takes time
But one day slaps you fast
I call this the cathedral of lamentation
But really it is the confines of my mind
Once a beautiful escape that is now
A prison in which I can never escape
Now watch as I push the envelope,
give you a taste of what's possible;
The meek cannot inherit the stars,
space will lose every ounce of luster;
You will not see with a microscope,
the Universal Truth that’s plausible;
Lost within dive bars and basic cars,
no way you could go any faster;
Painted like a cathedral with scars,
your aesthetic makes you the master.
i ordered at the bar in archbishop's rig
two pork sausages
baked beans
strawberry bear fruit snack
orange juice
meat free burger
r white's raspberry lemonade
bangers and mash
pepsi
corn wheels
hotdog
peppercorn sauce
one wobbly sausage sandwich
on returning to my table
i overheard the barman
'a fool he was, a fool he'll always be'.
My shadowed heart a silent cathedral
Only abandoned asylum have ground
Oh twilight lady fingers made of ravens
Carrying all the forgotten memories, unspoken dreams
Haunted church bell rings, the darkest emotion in me
Sitting on fallen leaves under craziest grave for the death
My feet on the suicide forest, birds die for nonstop mourning
Thick air with the oxygen of ancient trees
Toxic breathe !
My spell touches each thing to turn them ash
Isn't it attractive that i am all the depression and turmoil?
Hauntingly beautiful that's why you are still reading this poem
Welcome to the silent cathedral !
Cathedral light
By Michelle Morris
07/12/2023
Cathedral light
Rainbow colours
Exponential beauty
Bright and wonderful
Energy in motion
Expanding in time
Evermore through
The Universe divine
© Michelle Morris, 2023
22nd day of September it was
In the year of the Lord, 2021
Hot afternoon, uncomfortable weather
Underneath the rays of sunlight
I waited for the girl I wanted
Our first time to be with each other
Laughed and talked together
I had you at this happy moment
I didn't want the time to passed by
The clock, to stop for a moment
The sound to pause permanently
Just only us, the two of us
The footprints around the intramuros
A memorable scene and place
La Cathedaral, Manila Cathedral
The wedding church for everyone
The best view was in front of me
The best part was only you
The memories i placed in my heart
You, my love and always love
From the miles of flatness and the fens
Comes the hill where this Cathedral stands
Everyone can see this floodlit site
When the moon is out and there is night.
I saw it through the window as I turned
It’ struck me down with beauty never learnt.
As I lay surprised upon the stair
I absorbed the beauty I saw there
Should we worship beauty such as this?
It strikes us with a hammer not a kiss
That Pentecost Sunday in Owo
As worshippers assembled
For the rain of Holy Spirit
Men of the underworld
Wielding the tools of their ungodly trade
Rained satanic bombs and bullets on innocent congregants
And two scores lay dead
While many more injured
Leaving families devastated
Dreams brutally cut short
And reign of fear foisted on
The hitherto peaceful community
All in the name of extremism
And misguided religiosity
What a sacrilege in God’s temple?
What a desecration of His sanctuary?
What an audacious confrontation with God
In His terrestrial abode?
The wicked will never go unpunished
Vengeance is of the lord
At His time they will reap
The fruit of their wickedness
Stunned I stare from a rocky shore
As eagle architects swoop and soar.
Avian aerobats stretch my mind.
Carving arcs in cerulean air
Building an aerial cathedral
Framing clear high walls across the sky
With headlong three-sixties upside down
Form gothic spandrels toward the ground
Flickering feathers turned them around
Racing sunward as a fleur de lis
In a uniting swirl upward bound,
Forming a pole for staffing a cross
Construction stopped at the sight of fish.
As if their cathedral struck the sea
Eagles spun in tsunamic circles
Diving for salmon they taloned tight
Flying swiftly off, soon beyond sight.
I shrugged, amazed by what raptors do.
Jet jockeys may but sigh and admire
Eagles flight gift with dreamy desire.
Saints, gargoyles, Kings, and imps,
mix, match and mingle.
The beatific and the ogres
hang over slate roofs
like drunks at closing-time.
The stone-masons were subversives,
they must have drank on the job,
yet Remigius de Fécamp, Bishop Alexander,
and St Hugh of Lincoln
all signed off on this unholy riot.
Fire and earthquakes only encouraged
more irreverent flamboyancy.
Gradually `Mary Mother' took over the house
sweeping granite spiders out of the atrium,
boxing the ears of errant goblins,
yet much medieval and Gothic dangle remain.
The effrontery of it all,
all those capricious aberrations,
lead us to believe, not so much in God,
but the sheer immensity of our
rebellious and disorderly minds.
reinforced concrete curves over stone ~ props up fresh air inside a dome
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