707.
Veneration to Mary:
She Who Prostrates to God in Worship
Oh Mary, servant of Allah
She Who Prostrates to God in Worship – the Sajidah
God recognizes her earnest surrender
She whom to God puts herself under
Oh Mary – the Prostrating One – the Sajidah
Our honor & adoration to you, Ave Maria
Praise God for the worship of the Blessed Virgin Mary
We venerate Mama Mary, Worshipful is She.
Amen.
-10/07/2019
(Dumarao)
*Veneration to Mary as “She”
The clouds have opened their eyes wide
And all blackness wiped off the face of
The earth.
Night’s curtain has been drawn.
The rising birds in one single squadron
Halloo the world,
Winging and swinging through the
Broad lanes of the ceruleans.
I wake and tremble with the coldness of
Netted fishes;
My spirit stumbles upon fresh thresholds
Whiter with the dews of a prostrating day.
I return to my first day when I had cried.
I speak of my vagitus.
Morning celebrates itself,
Its return from a wayward night trip,
And the glory of dawn.
Crows from drunken cockerels
Ring out loud and clear on the spine of
The village,
Saluting the birth of a new-born day.
or a poison dosimetric
juxtaposed drop by drop
that you ingest absorbed
while your mind wanders
between little or nothing
that you can absorb
of the arguments you despise.
or a flexible filament
that round the trachea
snared in the beam
because you wander life
between the comings and goings
unnecessary ideas.
or else the thud of the lead flight
that snapshot snatches it all
prostrating body and mind
since nothing perceives or receives as comfort
of insufficient happiness.
Catholic education taught me all my Ps and Qs
when nuns and priests coached a child's reluctant view,
in a quandary and a quiver
to kneel up straight and perfectly perpendicular,
amidst the gold and platinum rich cathedrals
churches of quicksand-like quag pews medieval,
shaped for the prostrating prayerful penitent
awaiting an offenders penance and its remnants,
in somber quiet of quaint old confessional tombs
while incense burns a bitter scented perfume ,
quintessentially questioning everything qued
perpetuating a quay to conclude
when to sink or swim in perplexing quirky quotes
of pseudo pallid pantomimes of forgiveness and hope,
when tranquil poise in prayer
extolls the loss of childhood innocence repaired.
Using up those Ps and Qs with an added one or two.
Penance Poise Perfume Platinum
Quay Quiver Quandary Quaint
for the sponsor of contest Mind Your Ps and Qs
Michelle Faulkner
2/19/21
As My hands go up in urgent prayer
‘the question I wonder ,is anyone there .
Waiting patiently and hoping for a reply
‘Is my call viewed as important ?
I ponder the reasons why .
My eyes are tightly shut
‘I’ll Tense just a little more
‘Maybe prostrating myself would help
‘So I lay me face down upon the floor .
Absence of words or spirit struck I’m starting to think they really don’t give a ...
I beat my chest and start to lament ‘
I shout my questions ,
I Start to vent .
Just send me a whisper ‘
a symbol that you may care
‘I need those lotto numbers Dam it
‘Please answer my prayer !
An aged pilgrim prostrating at the steps
of Potola Palace, to her piety I bow
My feelings long since forgotten now
A coroner speaks beside an unzipped body bag
talks of my sister's suicide with furrowed brow
My sorrows long since forgotten now
To the beggar man at the Colosseum missing
half his face, I make a giving vow
My hopes long since forgotten now
A lovely young lady infatuates me
she strikes me with a wow
My loves long since forgotten now
On a Cartagena street a pantless toddler
pleads for a dollar, his plight I disavow
My regrets long since forgotten now
The plaster medieval toy castle my dad made
in time forsaken or lost somehow
My things long since forgotten now
Indelible memories lost can again be found
In soulful dreams they may prove profound
There is a war on earth against God
attacking the very corner stones within pillars of belief
Shepherd when the stars of doom eclipse red faced
cornered facts bleeding innocent the silent screams tremble
Unheard angels filtering through the moonlight
kneeling souls pray for His dire mercy
To make this world right again filled with peace
Condemn the guilty as wolves they are killing sheep
Ripping little ones to pieces sacrificed at the pagan temple
where the purity of love has been tarnished ugly by these loveless strays
Savages impotent against the powers of nature
prostrating the cringing submission of a slave
Begging blind articles of self praise enslaved ideas removing independence
from true facts not acknowledged for their value underneath respect
Despite its wanton infliction of pain apes amongst rats devouring
democratic views under heaven's command thou shalt not kill
I was awakened this morning
To find an orange shaded horizon
Shining brilliantly and magnificent
So Plain to see
The cool temperate atmosphere surrounded my
Body with a mysteriously sweet aroma
Oh Lord, I truly am free
I see many souls around me, who could they be
Dressed in brightly colored gowns
Prostrating on both knees
A morning prayer to the living God
How close is he
For now I know this is a place that will
Provide all of my needs
Yes! Yes! this must be paradise
A place where the ancients prophesied
Where an assembly of righteous souls gather
To be as one with the Lord in the here after
Devoid of signs,
Clothed in widower gray,
Paths blank, mourning..
Above heavens clouded by nightmares:
Hovering as vultures,
warning of hailstorm:
Death of dreams
and silent screams..
She hears them..
And darts through the blocks-
empty as her heart,
calmly bursting..
Lips salted in dust,
Smoke filling her lungs,
Eyes drawn by curtains of fear:
From whom is she running?
Rain etch the ground-
as another of monuments fall down
Blobs of destruction,
pieces of wood and plaster-
like remnants of her imagination;
flying papers of unfulfilled plans;
hunger breaking as cups and pots,
windows as desires;
Glass shattering: hopes;
Street lights prostrating under bricks
and air cemented in...quite,
Suffocating!
A ray of light so ancient,
Drenched as she's breaking
under the weight,
blurring in pain..
Nothing left of the ghosts,
No one left of her stalkers..
Just the beautiful ruins..
Oh! but this pain is in wane,
for there is no shame-
in being buried under this wreckage
To be smashed once again..
A band of truth
A circle of love
An ownership claim
An advertisement to the world
With this ring I own you
I promise to cherish you
I pledge to take care of you
I hope what I say is true
With this band
I tie you down
I claim you till death
I might even defer to you
With this circle
I encompass you
I collar you
I put my all in you
I must hold on to you
Upon your eager finger I set my hopes
My future is you
And it is now we
With words that are uttered
With anxious pride
I commit and swear
An oath of infinity
That might be
A noose imbued with animosity
The future is bright
It is time for the party
We share our love
We are blessed by god above
May patience outlast our momentary love
The ritual of prostrating to society
Is now over
Living has sunk in
Life mirrors fantasy only occasionally
Love dims
Commitment holds
Cataloguing begins
Circle of random joy
Circle of probable eventual reprove
Circle of unspoken responsibility
Circle of expectant continuity
Circle of overwhelming obligation
To one that is to be loved
How the shadows fall back bowing;
prostrating themselves
before the noon day sun.
Genuflecting as their wooden, vegetative father’s can not.
Performing dance movements of mimicry
the boughs above initiate.
How the shadows fall daringly, dauntless;
dissecting the bleached winter grass,
making perplexing puzzles of mossy patches
creating mystical arteries upon
the breast of Mother Earth.
Prostrating just flat,
I felt a strange elation,
the smooth shiny ground felt cold,
on a hot humid afternoon,
and the body had cooled,
my mind had stopped and numbed,
I had only one thought,
that all my life I had fought,
now I had surrendered,
to the ONE,
whom for entire life I had sought.
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