When comfort crowns itself as faith, obedience is mistaken for revolt.
On the Orthodox Christmas I went to buy
Some bread and a bottle of Cotes du Rhone
The lanes I walked were covered in white
When it feels windless, and the frost is calm
This kind of winter I much prefer
To summer when sizzle hangs on for ages
It’s a joy to inhale the frosty air
And the only event is a turn of the pages
Another day soon shall meet its evening
To become yesterday and the other day
Sit back and drink, share the innate believing
In what you think had happened today.
O, Sapientia, Mistress of Our Soul,
Effulgent glory of eternal light
Spin the wheel of life that you govern
Ordering all within the moonlit night.
O come, fairest Sapientia, lead us into day
With saving hand, on heaven's sacred way.
Kyrie eleison priest says
Water important and priest prays
At baptism, chants are incessant
Lord have mercy for those present
Child is beautiful, twelve months old
Godparents, traditions uphold
Undress child, it's fear transparent
Lord have mercy for those present
In font, oil added to water
Placed in water is goddaughter
Oil with water stings, unpleasant
Lord have mercy for those present
Three times child is immersed waist deep
Christ three days entombed for his sheep
In white sheet wrapped, light florescent.
Lord have mercy for those present
Contest Entry: A KYRIELLE ABOUT WATER
Sponsor: Kim Rodrigues
Date: 2022/08/17
Modern romance
The girlfriend's father
You can plough with him
IN THE NAME OF THE FATHER, THE SON AND HOLY SPIRIT
Born and baptised in the Greek orthodox faith,
Often went to church with my dad at the Anglican
Church, kissed the Pope’s ring when he visited
The Convent, all the way from the Vatican,
Held a key in my heart and soul for all three of
These religions, that is how it was meant to be,
Decorative Rosaries, Christmas Carols that I love,
Hand painted Greek Icons , all destined to be, an
Integral, all-encompassing and faithful entire me!
Locked up behind iron bars
in retribution of regret.
Sinner beasts with criminal scars
in isolation of dust and sweat.
Handcuffed like a bird in cage.
in a cruel, concrete captive box.
Prison guards killing precious age
confined in shackles of orthodox.
Thank God! ..we are not in prison.
No filth and crowd of dissonance
Holy spirits of law and reason ..
freedom allowed..for our innocence
Locked up..
in a closed mindset jail ....
are we really free?
Serving a life sentence. .no bail..
We are prisoners. .do you foresee?
single malt sanity, sanitized, ionized,
with a little communion salt.
sprinkle replace, sprinkle to taste,
sprinkle with haste to the holy face.
yet still ground balsa wood icons
perfectly semitrical work to preserve
lesser linoleum countertop grains.
Like in winona minnisota where the midwest
vacuum sealed religion remains intact.
renewed morning by morning
by olive shaded stanley thermoses.
Displaced only on occasion by rubber
gripped cellphones and coffee mugs.
winona Minnesota....
where the Mississippi is the only
true dialect.
home to sugarloaf bluff and
the basilica of saint stanislaus.
that lesser known bishop of krakow
who may have been martyred but first
got stoned at fourteen underneath
the sugarloaf.
See him now stacked up and slid down the bar
the bishop of all cardboard regalia.
Holy under a golden pint ring halo of IPA..
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