Mary McGee went off to church
While Wee Luck stayed home in bed
A night of carousing with all of his friends
Left Wee Luck now holding his head
Mary McGee was just a bit tiffed
That her husband had left her alone
She actually gave it a passing thought
To never return back at home
But there at the church, she was met by her friends
And Mary was now feeling good
When Father O'Hare sent out a plea
For people the give what they could
He said "Today we will do something new
For the one who gives most to the parish
They can pick the first three Hymens to start
I know that's something all cherish"
Someone said 10, then someone yell 20
30 and 40 soon followed
When Mary McGee shouted a 100
Leaving all of the flock start to wallow
O'Hare was delighted seeing Mary excited
Saying, "Now you can choose your three Hymens"
So, She pointed her finger around the whole hall
Saying, "I choose Him, and Him, and Him
Broken Petals by Mike Lee
broken petals
break the blossom
from the flower
the leaf from the tree
the shadow from the light
fire from ice
life from death
friends from family
echoes from silence
wishes from regrets
the future from memories
until death dies
eternally
when their are
no more bird songs
no more sacred music
no more hymens
no more tigers
in the grass
such
simple graces
separate the scared
from the profane
on Sundays
at the every church
when murder comes to call
then god help us sinners
help us
all
too many white crosses
on green hillsides
leave the world
so empty
of souls
and saints
If thou are a god indeed, Ah! I wonder if thou still seek abode in thy lonely cage
of thy freedom. If ever thou seek life in the begging souls of the temple door; if
thou seek delight in the holy dim lit candles.
My heart is a grief for a place in heaven and beauty makes me dream of thee. But
thou hide in the empty hues of earth and wake in hymens and tales of men. So
much are men in thy company, yet thou are a lonely soul.
See your breath on the window pane.
Watching the snow cover the ground.
A child’s wonder land has just begun.
Hear the sounds of laughter and cheer.
That the children make this time of year.
Throwing snowballs and making forts.
This is what winter is for.
Aromas of apple pie fill the air.
Family and friends reminisce
of Christmas when they were kids.
Gathered around the tree
singing Christmas hymens and telling the famous story.
Every year a child stays up,
in hopes to see Santa clause.
I hold sons in my belly, rotten flesh to sate
Dun bricks scattered crumbs arouse
Scorched meat, the scent, an irresistible bait
Peeling, putrid, mangled: a pleasant browse
Clean, gleaming, skin stretched insidious
Over me. Etched names with tired pens
On stone rowed sympathies, so fastidious
Over them. Roll out my vestiges, and hymens
Forget and repeat. Sure as winter to fall
A fate never escaped, so I’m mated to you
In marrow and mind, kin since the call
Of time, rapt, a bondage bleak in hue
So let the feast begin, cups teem to the brim
A procession indefinite, though often grim
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