The Stirling Castle flowers speak
To those who stop their feet and mind walking
And declares in honesty the verity of the corporeal soul
Among the insects who fill the air.
The Queens of the Castle though colourful, beautifully crafted, fresh, scented, celebrated and majestic
Will enjoy a short reign
Before they fade in the summer Sun
But the shortness of their reign
Does not traduce their glory and usefulness.
But the invisible soul smells the new life won
Sees the hope in the beauty
Hears the sound of the Chief musician
Feels the joy of the Producer.
And has Royal ascent to lounge and play
For the dancing Composer calls the tune
Tends His garden
Protects His field
Provides for His guardians.
When these Queens pass,
Next season, new proclaimers will be appointed,
And continue to personify the beauty of Him.
I
Christ-proclaimers are the worst punishers
In self-righteousness, little mercy, no Grace
Should one perchance fall into their "church"
Hindu Gandhi, "terrorist Mandela" compare better
Jesus is not honored by phoney pastors,
Church "leaders" and therapist-advisors!
In Africa, my GURU was hard, but not like them!
Among other "religions" grace shows its face - not here ...
II
Saint D of Adelaide only advised a breakup
Isolating the lovers, adults over 40 years in age
Then groomed the woman as he thought best
She lost her dignity, mind, control
When she disobeyed his least "instruction,"
He recalled her fights with ex-lovers - got his way -
Not the Jesus way: punish them, no let up --
Never reminding couple, forgiveness is step 1
In healing and living like Jesus (or AFRICAN Mandela)
Basic Christianity (John 3:16) exists only for Dean
Evangelists,
good news proclaimers,
please clarify and declare your health care intentions.
Do you prefer God of Love enculturing cooperative health,
or prolonging Old School
God of elitist monoculturing authority?
Violating those left outside ego- and anthro-centric boundaries,
to hoard your own sacred investments
in today's Elite WinLose players.
Economic and political manipulators
marketing your faith in love's responsibilities
are now addicted to furthering bad faith's violent authorities
to take life
rather than care-give WinWin ecopolitical resolutions,
resonance for and with gratitude
for life's dance of ego/eco-love,
deep and sacred ecological co-listening
to hear god/dess as inside/outside voicing love
in his-her still small equivalently relentless
polyphonic voice.
Written as a tribute to a popular song ... can you guess which one?
When wak’st from slumber shall I be
Fain present to lay next to thee
and whither shall my sojourn be
methinks that thou would’st walk with me
much ale beset me to the ground
laid next to thee shall I be found
if all’st my parley bawdy be
I warrant, it shall be with thee
Forsooth five hundred miles afield
Travail - and then five hundred more
Traverse a thousand miles, in truth
To haply lay athwart thy door.
A reworking of "I'm Gonna Be (500 Miles)" by the Proclaimers
It's always intangibles that draw me, sleepily
into another trackless landscape
reaching from my mind, out to a dry horizon
that obscures each fleeing fragment
of that sense of home that I have cherished.
Its silence is the magnet. Yet is the return
that will not let me go. There it is,
and madness only may respond.
I have sought it, but only from necessity,
for all is vanity; this we know.
And all, and all...
This, too the God proclaimers know,
seek him after centuries of seeking...
and find him not.
It is the seeking, after all, that is
sine qua non, the prize.
From it alone the hallelujahs burst the sky;
the butterfly conducts its newest symphony,
the essence of a purity distilled from love.
All this, the fountainhead of joy.
There is the path. There is where the eagles fly.
There the night of sparkling stars,
the curvature of space, the stone-dry furrow
where the creek once ran...
the empty road ahead.
And then
your longing at an end,
Rejoice.
~
rising faithfully
rapturous face to heaven
the daffodil blooms
enduring lilac
fragrant crownings of beauty
proclaimers of spring
singing joyously
welcome sonata of spring
the robin returns
behold creation
waking from winter’s slumber
o glorious May
by Deb Radke for Carol Brown's Contest 'Memories of May'
Complicated needed restraint...
heads in the sand...
We understand history commands...
Repeat or Repent...
Violence (hell bent)
Proclaimers of peace...
Ongoing retreat...
Merry go round circus complete...
Violence your friend...
No answer will end-
Peace only Peace the sands
of this time release...
Such rapier wit that cuts right through
With quick tongues that can’t tame the shrew
There is nothing left or better for them to do
Except belittle all they meet
There is no concept of wrong or right
They’ll speak their thoughts just to start a fight
They are always alone most day and night
For of love, they are deplete
Perhaps, by chance, they’ll one day learn
Respect’s not taken, it must be earned
Right and wrong, will they discern?
I pray it happens so
But until that day, they’ll so confine
Themselves to torture, like doing time
For they won’t have, friendships to find
They’ll be no friends at all to show
There was a moment when
I knew.
I knew when you played me
The Proclaimers.
When you woke in terror,
pacing and pale,
I knew.
When I fell asleep, and felt
your hand on mine,
I knew.
It was when I saw your pain, and
saw your heart begin to heal.
I knew when you sent me an email saying,
“I missed you at the party.”
I knew when you spoke softly,
revealing regrets, doubts, and
hopes.
When I saw the look of shock on your face
as the kite string slipped from your fingers,
I knew.
When you smiled at your daughter,
I knew.
You shared a poem with me,
and I knew.
From the first moment I saw you,
I knew.
I knew that I loved you in all your aspects,
and knew that I’d cherish every moment
we share together.
I knew that my love for you
would be renewed in each moment,
and that I’d discover the depth and breadth of you
every day, anew.
I knew.
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