Padre Poems

the boy, padre and abbess

The boy, the padre, and the abbess.

The padre hung in the bell fry the boy didn’t know
at the time, the padre was his father; this once proud man
reduced to a pathetic shadow of himself.
The old woman, he didn’t call her mother, told him before 
she died of a tragic love story.
When the abbess was young,

The Boy, Padre and the Abbess

The boy, the padre and the abbess.

The padre hung in the bell fry the boy didn’t know
at the time, the padre was his father; this once proud man
reduced to a pathetic shadow of himself.
The old woman, he didn’t call her mother, told him before 
she died of a tragic love story.
When the abbess was young,

Translation of Jorge Manrique's Third Copla:Coplas a La Muerte De Su Padre By T Wignesan

COPLA UNO: This Bad Guy World - in all seriousness 


[The entire sequence of 114 coplas: “This Bad Guy World”, dedicated to Jorge MANRIQUE, 1440?-1479. I give here in translation his third “copla à pied quebrado” in  Arte Menor metre:

“Coplas a la muerte de su padre” (Coplas on the death of his father) -

Our

Conjuring Phantom

Anon! The shadow chilled, mimikri and frosted with domineering dogma.

Thou wast trying escape and melt with thy magna carta.

The shadow was asking thee about crossroad and miniatur epic.

Who always doth fighting versus tyrannical peasant of lingua sacra?

Nay! The shadow given the souls and was sparkling in purgatory, but the light is so poor.

Accepted the unfathomable

Padre Has a Gun

Mary Six Pack Pistols staggers through time portals drunk
Pretending to be a priest but she is not a mister or a sister 
To the old west saloon through double doors she glides
Drunker than a nun on steroids swinging rosaries from her side
Into a smoke filled room in rusty spurs and fake mustache
Presenting herself as a

Padre Mio

"Padre Mio"  
                                       by Giuseppi Martino Buonaiuto

My father: all he wanted was a little,
Just a little,

De Padre Ad Filius

A father sees his son, and feels
New heart of fire and eyes of steel.
Blossoming boy looks to the man,
Begins to take life in his hands.

Once soft young lad, quest now begin,
Away from hearth and to the Sun.
Blistering Sun hardens pale skin,
Taut sinews of the man begun.

To guide, to lead, to elevate,
The man helps form the

Padre

I'm holding in my anger 
Knowing I'd die to be the strangler
Of his sour-little coward-brittle throat 
I'm just mad not literal
But when your dad's a criminal
There's a  minimal amount of father hope
It doesn't bother me no, 
But it keeps haunting me so
I will keep wandering not knowing where to go
No Padre in my home
What an

The Padre of Old St Anthony

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 
Anthony.
  As I approached him,he 
gave me a warm.
Then he told me why he 
came to the mission,the 
mission in old St Anthony.
  We knelt down to pray,I

Doomed Padre

The Loss of Faith
Fated priest when he walks in front of a funeral 
procession his gait is often wobbly, says it is stiff  
joints; smells of aftershave lotion and brandy.  
Lost his faith years ago, in the night his prayer 
echoes in the village church. 
Thinks it his fault that god has left

Padre Pio

St. Padre Pio

Through emmense silence amidst the swell of violence

Take Good care of those he loves;
In certain strange ways in curiosity
With human love one can learn to equate 
Yet for Padre Pio's case;

He had found a love out of a devine source;

In closed minded attributes some err' to escape/
A game in life can't ever be

Padre

He slept under the No Parking Sign, newspapers for a coat.
The doctors said he was long  gone.
I believe that they misspoke.
He wandered to and fro at night for he was scared to death of sun.
They gave him electric shocks few times.
Should have given him a gun.
Never was one for a bath was partial to

Padre

Father I am here
As I have never in my exsistence have left your sight
You have tood there to my eyes unseen
And I have forgotten about You
The love You have for us all, I amaze at for it is Great
As I have been walking around with open eyes, I went on blind
Yet the reason I fell

Padre De Sera

He just laid there, ignoring us all
Hibernating like a “lost Boy”
Colorless, like the breath that used to be
He looks like no one I’ve seen

Eyes on him, judging, mocking, loving
Mine were in disbelief, cold, numb
I quit on the greatest show of all 
Pup tents in my heart

Not for me, so my sibling wasn’t alone
Tear ducts, barren

Padre

He engraved her silhouette
                                                   

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