Of all fond thoughts held deep within the heart
Like strings lightly strummed fly with agile wings
Take flight yet never from my mind depart
Soar as wandering clouds where angels sing
Thrilling depths unknown and conscious thriving
Meant for few who’ve neutered malice thinking
Free of hate and void of carnal striving
Loosed from the pull of gravity’s sinking
Launched to heights reserved near omnipotence
God is there, since love is His personage
Displayed, arrayed in great magnificence
Building a home of divine parsonage
Forever to reign in heaven’s glory
Love is the wind and might of the story
A stranger came knocking at my front door
Early in the morning, quarter to five,
Asked if I believed in helping the poor
Told him at five I was barely alive,
But if he was needing help to survive
I could offer him tasty toast and jam,
Perhaps, I might even fry up some ham.
To my chagrin, he said he needed cash
I said, "At five out of hard cash I am,"
Then, he turned and hurried off in a dash.
written June 27, 2021
[based on a true incident a number
of years ago while living in a parsonage.]
Mongrel mongeese can fly at very high altitudes but dome headed calves cannot as they must wait until they are 672 years old. Fly fly flight then. Oh great. See how the waving whales chanting circulating wisdom in a foam. And bathing basking. The hypothesis of a 5minute triangle is a good idea for a specific dialect to be spoken. The noises of a parsnip parsonage swell. Ingest not a seabird sandwich. Opening in a cave a smugglers' house. Housekeeping in a coven. Hahahaha dripped fondling fig figurehead fantastic fakery. Hahahaha and a mealworm singing opera to a friend of a prawn cocktail. Weary wearing weather. Washing. Xxxx gastronomically z z c y g z
Sally Jane hung out the clothes
As her employer did upstairs doze
It was the same every week
Sally Jane's outlook was so bleak
An orphan child found in the lane
By the Reverend Parson Cane
He brought her to the parsonage
Her first job was to turn each bible's page
Hidden from view below the pulpit
Inside it's depths she would happily sit
Her next job was when she was a bit older
Carried milk pails slung across each shoulder
She whooshed the laying hens and cocks
And scaring crows as she ran about
shaking the hems of her frocks
When grown she had no permanent home
She preferred to live outdoors and to roam
As night fell a haystack, or in the winter a farmer's barn
On stormy nights that wetted the land
Sally Jane's cover was never planned
She arrived soaked through at any random door
They let her in and she slept on the floor
Now in her fiftieth year
Many village folk shed a tear
She had spontaneously combusted in John's hayrick
There had been no indication she had ever been sick
Her funeral was yesterday
Poor Sally Jane, it's a mystery.
The chilly call of wolves
Troubles the shadow of my soul
Despair rips deep the heel of my youth
And my flesh holds no sympathy
Toll the bells in yonder glen
To bring the parsonage as one
Let tears fill the river Styx
And silence hush the agony of love
Rejection grinds my bones to powder
To be cast upon a cold north wind
There’s no shroud of warmth for me
While betrayal still walks among men
My spirit still quietly lingers
In the field were young maidens dream
Their hope remains until the evening
Then wolves come to feed
Ministries common following's ford
as rambling messaging's spaced toward
linguistic parsonage accord ~
. . . a neither pace attempts the Lord!
A breech of favored in between
is not the true essayist dream,
identities foregoing ream
is but identical in its seam!
Occlusion as the outcome's scheme,
a floating chance of origin
has none, but nature's begging scene,
doubt casting's fate becomes adjourn!
That placate stifles truth's concern,
while tensions buckle with their yearn!
Evidenced
FIFTYFOUR
CharlaXFabels
The Church Parsonage on Church Street the old Methodist Church where eye
used to go to church it Burned down.
My mother died a horrible murder death.
My brother died in a car wreck.
We used to fight each other though eye was elder he was bigger.
Eye was a weak and sickly child of GOD.
My Father died and eye do not knoe what of.
Eye was not always allowed to live at home.
My room was taken and the things in it like my toy box and the comics and the
yearbooks were all destroyed.
Eye was given a hardship discharge from the ARMY.
My home at Morrilton was burned down by a natural gas line leak which then
exploded. My family always hated me and wanted me to die alone. Eye stopped
my consumptive habits and was in a real fight in Arizona only was beaten into
Jesus and left to die half dead eye still try to live and love and write this is mye bio
mye evidenced.
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