Religious Memorial Poems

A natural instinct for the few
This word called Heroism...

A flaming fire
And O'how it grew
The others hunkered down 
O'but not you...

Stretched out to run the gauntlet
With...

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Tonight I’ll light some candles
For some people who have died,
A custom on the holiday
To which I will abide.

I’m not religious, but, to me,
A ritual like...

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Have you ever considered
why we are who we are 
the owners of Stardust
consider the electrons of eons 
why are you drifting from a far 
who...

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With Blades
I have drawn 
In my restless sleep
I linger in the past
Were my souls 
Dry husks of horrors
Are cast
Each one an image in time
The dead...

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Golden are your hours
Slipping into the sea
Suns rays reach
touching the tower
Golden are your eyes
Alight with infernal power
Bleeding amber fire
From delicate lips
Light stretches out from behind
Golden...

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I’m trying my best to figure it out
 but i don’t know how to solve these problems with inadequate equations 
What happen when friends cared...

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As the ravens fed Prophet Elijah by the brook
you brought gentle words to nourish our souls.

Like the paintings of Monet, Van Gogh and Degas
Your creative...

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What is your earliest memory
of sacred birdsong voices?

How is this memory
the same and different than
your internal intimate Sacred EarthMother's Song?

Of sacred gospel and secular gossip
differentiating...

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BELIEF

Hard to breathe 
in this crystalline air
I can feel it’s sharpness.
Nights are seldom pleasant
almost always dangerous.
Charles moves at night
dug in we wait for the attack.
We...

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Transl. of Eric Mottram’s A Faithful Private - 4 with a Clive Bush comment on Mottram's poetry 

Excerpt from an article, “From space to caves...

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Under the heavenly stars, our children 
Lay inside our hearts, on raw emotions,  
sleeping with threadbare nights of pain,
Watch dark clouds making daily devotions....

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Fifteen years have passed 
Since that fatal day
When terrorists killed 343
This is what it means to me

The people going about there day
Passengers flying on there...

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From immemorial time
 on England’s plains
 the Stonehenge stands –
 pendulous rocks over life precipice.
 
Produced by a culture
 that had no written records.
 Sun...

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Most of us play, our lives like a game
Both ends of our candle, consumed by the flame
Choosing a curtain, buying a vowel
Planning tomorrow, forsaking the...

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There he stood in the 
garden,a gentle fellow 
with glowing gown; 
radiating glory.
  His countenance was 
that of an Angel,
The Padre of old St...

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