I counted stars behind the glass,
while prayers like feathers fell—
each strike of ruler, each cold heart,
was heaven’s tolling bell.
They said my silence was a sin,
my dreams a devil’s tongue,
but I could hear the world within,
the songs the atoms sung.
The floor was stone, the hours long,
my fingers traced the air—
a symphony of light and wrong,
and mercy, unaware.
They could not cage what they could not see,
nor burn the crystal mind—
for I was born of mystery,
and truth they left behind.
Now still I walk in measured grace,
through corridors of pain,
and every bruise became a place
where stars return again.
My daddy—he once told me
don’t ever play with nuns
they’ll hit you with their rulers
it won’t be any fun
I snuck out of that prison
and now I’m on the run
Once freed from that schoolhouse
I sunbathed in the sun
I stayed out late, I went on dates
looking out for number-one
When I think of what I went through
of all the tired repressive lies
I keep running wise, in slick disguise
my purpose is renewed
Don’t ever let ‘em tell you
you can’t have any fun
If they preach that hackneyed drivel
grab some things and run
.
.
Songs for this:
Cold Heart (PNAU Remix) by Elton John & Dua Lipa
I'm Still Standing by Elton John
Webster: hackneyed = uninteresting, unfun, dull and unoriginal.
*stolen almost directly, in spirit anyway, from that freewheeling rebel, Johnny Cash
**My first 8 years of school were parochial
will to be diff’rent
fractals with cursive curlicues
cream-colored overalls
ostracized by nuns
and formal catechisms
with habitual fashion sense
now I’m in control
spinning like a pinwheel
with poetic enunciation
showed them, showed them all
i could take off my uniform
it’s monotone gray
God guard his sons and his daughters
Return to me
For all shall see
Through song we may journey
All shall hear me
Delighted through prayers
There lies our treasures
Tears of joy to fill the void
We have deployed
Here to deliver a message
Through my precious carriage
My love shall last
Your Lord works fast
Love one another
Honor thy Mother and Father
Angels reside
Through the tear of our eye
He was risen
For it was written
Do you deny the blue of your sky
For that is I
Places of green
Which many have seen
For those who may worry
It is not too late to say sorry
To help amend
Jesus made friends
Within thee
We have conquered our enemy
Many were lost are found
Without even uttering a sound
We travel deep within your sleep
Many we shall meet
Orion made the fool
For Cygnus heart shall always rule
The Northern Cross
Which many had lost
His cross we bare
For we are there
Unexpected hand of respect
Live life with no regret
A friendly face
We may be found through grace
A drifting mind to help rewind
You may find all answers within due time
The truth shall set you free
For then you shall see
All you may be
May be found within me
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.
Accept, the chastity and understanding of the spirit
A life in strict celibacy, ignore their sexual feelings
Frivolity, a path that leads straight to hell
Has God given them everything for nothing?
Disobedient nuns at the bar ... Irish Whiskey, thanks
26/08/2019
Sun :) - A-L Andresen :)
Copyright © All Rights Reserved
~ Five Lines- Poetry Contest ~
Sponsored by: Dear Heart
7th place in the contest
Eight Nuns Running
Eight nuns running down a path far below
Ethel, Edith, Ellen, Barb each in deep snow
From the way they all look might be putting
up a gong show, till they all fall down
while they're all wearing frilly long gowns.
08/08/15
This side of our earth
Opens its doors to the sun
In the fields walk nuns
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Kolkata, 02/05/2016
An Italian priest on the other side of the ocean
wanted to dispel a widely held notion.
Most people believe nuns are old and ugly.
Others accept them as intolerant and crabby.
I have my own memories of them while in school.
Most of the ones I used to know were not cool.
As I look back, I now often feel sick.
Sister Mary Whatshername used to hit me with a stick.
Well, Father Rungi’s idea sounded like fun.
Can you imagine a beauty pageant for a nun?
Do not look for sisters on a catwalk in bikinis.
The church will not debase itself to that level of sleaze.
Instead, here is something of Father Rungi’s design:
Sisters would display photos of themselves online.
The contest would not only display exterior beauty.
It would emphasize service within the church and community.
Visitors would vote for their favorites on the site.
Many nuns in the church thought this idea was right.
However, church superiors disapproved these goings-on.
Therefore, Father Rungi’s idea for a contest was withdrawn.
From a news story found on AOL
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