Scorned and ridiculed,
She carried her affliction for years.
There came a time when she bled.
Until one day her body buckled
And there laid she in her scarlet pool.
That filthy maiden was as good as dead
But Jesus reshaped her from earth’s dust
And delivered her from the hands of the cruel.
There came a time when
the unborn in her womb laid still; showed no sign of life
Curled in its fetal tomb,
And concerned expressions
On the faces of doctors
Alas, were ready when they considered the deciding factors.
But she in all the noise,
Lie unperturbed.
No doubt,
it was God who administered that herb.
And in an instant rebirth
The babe leapt, bounded and gallivanted.
There came a time
When all around her beloved child
A fiery furnace closed in,
But the loving arms of Jesus
Enfolded the child with oxygen.
Methinks that maiden would not have
made it to the other side
After the many years of
Stained tears she cried.
But she is Mother-Earth
And God has granted her rebirth.
Categories:
gallivanted, 10th grade, 11th grade,
Form: Free verse
Saint Patrick died on March 17th.
So we celebrate the day with green and drink.
Patrick, was kidnapped to Ireland as a slave,
a condition he never fully forgot or forgave.
Patty (as he was known by his friends)
was a sober, relentless, devout Christian.
As a missionary, he gallivanted methodically, converting heathens
and if he failed to convert you, you weren’t left breathin’.
He could burn you at the steak for ignoring ‘reason’.
To show Christ’s power, he ‘banished’ the snakes,
It’s amazing, the difference a miracle can make.
The year 461 pre-dated laptops and even the Internet,
so, I think it’s time we finally forgive and even forget
the sad, sordid history of Catholic conversion “therapy”
because today we need a reason to drink until we’re green.
.
.
Webster: Gallivant: “travel for pleasure.”
My roommates and I went to Doublin, Ireland last summer.
In casual conversation we asked how they celebrated Saint Patrick's day and their celebrations are like ours, more or less - a secular overindulgence. But on a deeper level, this holiday, they say, is dedicated to the patron saint of heathen genocide.
Categories:
gallivanted, eulogy, history, holiday, horror,
Form: Rhyme
Curtis was never one to stay in one place for very long
Oh my God they said when they looked at his passport
Multiple entries border crossings migration and search of
Inner Self and ironically a fix point in his travelling mind
No go zone was merely an encouragement to defy advice
Grand locations unexposed jewels magical treasure islands
Baking in the sun basking in downpour and floating on joy
Another journey one more rite of passage before settling
Coming home to hidden places he had never been before
Kaleidoscopes Katzenjammer Kettledrums Knowledge
Hitherto homeless he gallivanted to more distant shore-lines
On full steam of restlessness experiences and adventures
Minded his voyage but remained a foreigner nevertheless
Eventually he ran out of escape routes and returned home
21st February 2021
Categories:
gallivanted, home,
Form: Acrostic
If I were to be an animal,
I would want to be my kitty.
He is so spoiled and pampered
That it is a downright pity.
He does not do a single thing
That he doesn’t desire to do.
He answers to no one’s commands.
His high-flown tastes are catered to.
His dinner is served at his demand.
He naps whenever he pleases,
And he has his very own kitty vet
To keep him free of diseases.
He never worries about the bill
But takes every thing for granted.
He knows I will come to find him
Wherever he has gallivanted.
If I were to be an animal,
I would like to have the easy life,
That my beloved kitty has,
With no worry, no work, no strife.
By: Joyce Johnson
For Kristin Bruni's contest. "If I was animal, what would I be?"
Categories:
gallivanted, animals
Form: Quatrain