Eastwards Westwards
we know the direction
Playing tricks with the mind
We thought we knew the best
Down Convents Hill
the stone Angels sing
Desertion is not even an option
open the flanks
play your banjo
In evening we have everything to gain
in the holy calm
the marble passages
past our golden days
Categories:
convents, appreciation,
Form: Free verse
Biting and awful events!
I had to pray in convents.
You had come but left early
And you were meant an ally.
Less time you had spent with me,
With others I had felt not free.
You were my wished pet you know:
I could not leave you to grow...
My chosen classic partner,
John the Baptist forerunner:
I had been your good refuge
And would still have been quite huge.
Why didn't you in sewage
Discard hurting subterfuge?
The blows of hammering pain
Not washed away by the rain:
Who is swept away by blaze
Its sad memory shall raise...
Engulfed you were by the clouds,
Your voice unheard though quite loud.
The endless is always long,
Shortens it not touching song...
It's ended fraternity
For a damned eternity
Categories:
convents, absence, care, cry, death,
Form: Rhyme
The sheet is blank, the pencil sharp. But still
no lightning bolt of creativity
lights up the night. No muse awakes my quill
with inspiration longed for patiently.
Just then, intriguing thoughts invade my mind
as Wordworth's sonnet lines jump off the shelf -
of convents, bees, and weavers. Soon I find,
inside this little room, it writes itself!
Why sonnets? is a question I have heard -
is it not difficult enough to paint
an image without forcing every word
into strict rhyme and metrical constraint?
Yet even artists choose, when they begin,
a canvas shape and size to paint within.
Written 15 Oct 2020
Categories:
convents, poetry, writing,
Form: Sonnet
If we knew in advance that all daughters and sons
keep us up every night: yours and mine — everyone’s
(teething, peeing and screaming,
yet so INNOCENT-seeming),
we’d be living in convents like well-rested nuns.
Categories:
convents, baby, child, children, humorous,
Form: Limerick
Giggling from the corner of, her bedroom...
Gleam her eyes bare her breast tightly she grips
Sister Maria's rosary, tearing the buttons from her convents
White cotton dress virgins gazing at their beauty; twine reflections..
Sipping rose wine as she turns about to offer, her heart shaped glass.
Categories:
convents, beautiful, girl, love,
Form: Free verse
Paint Me Ablaze
paint me ablaze
like Rome
start from the head eyeballs mouth nose
castle
hills via neck
harnessed
dusty roads
long hands fingers of
books
waist stomach
kingdom of sorrow
all the king's seats
streams of the fields
and valleys of love
my thighs and knees will slowly burn
for a sign of my future shame
paint
a birth mark
my calves that are trained to go stright ahead til the ankles
convents
feet
toes
the king's army
like an air my name will burn
my meaning will be strewn from my ashes
any sense from my tendons will be free
translated from Hebrew:
Michael Simkin
Categories:
convents, loveme,
Form: Lyric