Rites Poems - Poems about Rites

Empyrean drops, Monument of July, The pluvial chapter of life... O July of enfeebled yolk, Dispenser of splendour of sempervirence, God has watered your tongue. Therefore, pour, July, pour The essence of life, The grit of living Unto the bosom of the Seventh month and other Months of parturition. Let us conceive in July, To bear in good season, Sons of courage... Wearing festal garments And adorning our heads with sepia...

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When one hits pay-dirt How far can this go The thrill in success is habit forming Success becoming currency of the day’s blo' Materialism playing a heavy hand as judgment With minions waiting to join in Groping for a share... a nibble Crumbs from a well stocked table thin Success breeding honey pots Of opportunity to crowds waiting... To fill the known orchards Supplying needed and...

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I saw the bending stems of lively green— Where stalked a little sun of yellow bright. Should love be like a flow’r, a sweet nineteen, And May, a month so dry and passing rites. Of fondest dearing names I say and tell, Adoring in ways never thought I’d say. Alas a wind of chill and heat did fell, A sign for...

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I don't just write in feel.' I preffer it also to be real.' From Observation of actions taken' allowing that some fancy is not forsaken' ...

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Over the holidays, I was watching Lisa’s sister little Leeza, she’s 14. She has a rebellious fashion sense and a joyful innocence. She’s still fearless too, and on-God, I hope she never loses that. Too soon though—the disco’s coming to town—the world’s coming for her. It’s the same for all of us, I suppose, but in Lisa and...

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>center>LAST RITES (MIXED) I’ve been having thoughts, a bit macabre, About my funeral day. I’m not getting any younger, So it might not be far away. How many folk will turn up To see my final act? Will it be just the family, Or will the place be packed? Will they say nice things about me, And will they be sincere? Have I deserved any compliments For...

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(Approaching Ingalls Peak, 2012, original oil) Rites of Passage Forty-six years ago, my first winter in the Pacific NW my first winter break at college, I headed out to climb Mt Stuart in the North Cascades in the company of a couple of older guys. I’d been climbing for a few years by then, but had only first x-country skied that...

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The Rites of Spring ...

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Goal attained while learning quest shows progress midst sign language bliss… Our special child received excellence medal with mirth proving triumph despite ailment as loving care and patience work well in life-building along God’s grace* that reigns. *2Peter 3:18 But grow in grace, and in the knowledge of our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ. To him [be] glory both now and for ever. Amen. ...

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3rd Heaven's Rites You will not bring me down I am high in the 3rd heaven in and with my God bring me down a Phoenix in the skies in and with my God I am will that's is I speak so life unto death a Phoenix in the skies I am high in the 3rd heaven I am will that's is I speak so life...

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Work in Progress Mauna Loa Volcano & Kilauea Sister Volcano The political and spiritual symbolism of Mauna Loa’s historic eruption “We’re seeing new land, new geographical features being born right in front of our eyes, and there is no power — no human power — that can stop it or can deter it,” one Native Hawaiian scholar said. “The...

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Fresh writes or fresh rites? Dare I ask? Is a death involved? Would asking be insensitive? I have been known to be less than subtle. Did you say that Ross has fresh writes? Ross who? She asks, sounding suspicious. I am not sure, I reply, hesitantly. Now she knows I do not fully listen to her. Do you mean Rocks? Maybe. What are you trying to...

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The sideburns of the Maples Turned another color in early October I look in my Roman bathroom mirror Person reflected is a stranger to me The green children No more than sprouts finding their blossoms Are impossibly older than me More ancient than the planet’s lore Poor last good kids Hunched over and limping Faithfully lacing duty to their boots Strapping chores across their shoulders They walk...

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A midnight shriek or sudden bang Disrupts the thread of tales, Entangled in unconscious mind With sounds of lashing flails. Wherefrom it comes, whither it goes? I threw my eyes up there, The eerie void soon called me up To trudge down through the stair. Where does it end? it takes me down Where lamps of darkness blaze, That shrouds my home with hazy mist, As...

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Down the hot sun, I crumble down the snowflakes, One minute, One tribute, Let's have a wintry solitude, Wrapped in a flesher's heartbrokenness, I derelict this relict calf love, Squall on this spur, Am peel in peals... Scuttle the fondle, Dottle the dawdle, Harbouring an everlasting embosom......

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