Short Cathedrals Poems

Archways
of acers,
tunnels of oak
in cathedrals of beech
arbors...

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cascading water
flows into braided rivers
rush of white water

palaces of sandstone
towering monolith
statuesque splendor

weathered mosaics
ancient cathedrals carved in stone
natures masterpiece...

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German,Lyonel Feininger born in New York
an architect who ,his artistic soul often *sought 
In light pervaded space
cathedrals his easel did grace



*https://www.wikiart.org/en/lyonel-feininger...

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Cobalt cragged peaks amidst clouds 
Cathedrals they are, proud so tall
Years of erosion now shout loud
My eyes now view in total thrall
Their reflections upon natures pure
Sharing many marvels from her brochure...

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My mansion awaits in heaven -
More cozy than earthly cathedrals -
Where I will retire of provision 
And I can keep and admire its halls -
Skipping down them and back again. 
A new and vast era nigh draws -
A gold key I'll take from His hand....

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Timeless tapestry of love transfixed
Omniscient oracles of my soul eclipsed
Undying love for you reviving remains
Cathedrals praying poetic pensive pains
Hibernal hearts with calamitous chains.





June.27.2017
Touch Me With Words - Contest
Sponsored by: Sharon Gulley...

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It is an old saw indeed
that a person's home is castle,
and I hope this is more true than not,
however simple.

Yet for me,
it is when I step outside this castle
that I enter our shared sacred cathedral,
which feels more important
and adventurous,
and wonderful
than my too stifling castle,
however sublime....

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Close your eyes and imagine with me
Camps, cottages, cabins and trees
High in the mountains or beside rolling seas
Perhaps it’s chateaus and castles you see
Maybe cathedrals grand as they can be
It’s little white churches that I see
Comforting contentment I’m contemplating as we
Consider the many constructs of C...

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Doing things by the book
Mom awaits a secret garden
Cleansed through application
Years of service completed
Thoroughly laid down, she dreams
Of lofty French cathedrals
Her maiden name retained

Dad reclaims his potency
Unwearied by the years
Gladly rides his motorcycle 
Beyond the frontiers
With his sons by his side
His independence fulfilled...

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inspired by Ricks contest theme

Winter melts and seeps deep below,
permeates cathedrals with snow,then
in spate,nature's blood in flood .
A babbling burn in feathered ferns
to riverine unseen,a stream of 
freshwater clean.
In rivers soil silts against sloping banks
the current slows into eddys,
where fat chubb doze,
deep waters flow ,below...

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...

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Winter melts and seeps deep below,permeates cathedrals with snow,in spate 
nature's blood in flood .In moorland gorse new springs become a tumbling 
source.A babbling burn in feathered ferns to riverine unseen,a stream of 
freshwater clean.In rivers soil silts against sloping banks and the current slows 
into eddys, where fat chubb doze.Deeper waters then running free,winding slowly 
to the sea....

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Sound the trumpets
Whispers of lotus flowers
Hot anger trapped in pantries
Shows, shows, shows, and buttons
Making space for eyes
On the return, on the return,
I'll be grateful on the return.

Shot-to-hell oven lights
Borrowing from the borrowers
New linens from fresh tears
Good morning, Sleepyface
You turn gutters into cathedrals
On the return, on the return,
See I'm grateful on the return....

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touch me sky... as you touched him
 spiraled cathedrals of twirling color
eyes dare not see.... in voices
the deaf drag in silence... screeming
there pears in the mud.

Van Gough heard them cry...
his sacred fingers to feel the knife
that slung his spirit to those stars
and(............. i,   * ** *
 can only hope to      look...
following in a painting      bright.
                               less...

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Melted Cathedrals that once were grand
Twisted and broken by mans crazy hand

Consequences after the fact
No discussions or common sense tact

Push the button it's easier this way
Whats millions of people, anyway

Damned by the bomb or damned by man
It's now inevitable, written future plan

Will anyone survive this I do fear
For no one to say, it fell here 



http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/war4.php...

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We are a winged species

those who flutter to soar

alongside the pruners...
more about appearance.

There are hawks and doves, an 
earthbound, feathered coop we are – 

not one of a flock wanting to be caged...

Small wonder that we give our angels wings,
and our saints the high of cathedrals

Francis chose a hillside, naked, to be aired

Christ gathered our splinters till a Cross,

man's freedom in His Divine Care....

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Furnished from the beginning with superlative demeanor,
You sway no haughty elbows,
And murder all colours of mockery,

Refrain from staring down the bridge of your nose,
As well as the egocentric adults
That bear the sharpness of a minotaur horn.

Your own sanctuary
Is crafted from knife fissures and bullet nests,
The nightmare of cathedrals;

Though existence must be slain
In order to fashion birth, yet
existence is never slain for applause...

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A place that never was
Hiding a heart that could never be
Burdened with a love
That never actually existed

Oh Chrysanthemum
How your song is so hauntingly beautiful
Performed in cathedrals
Where broken hearts yearn to mend

The kiss of the light
Gradually began to burn flesh
Like that of a vampire
Until finding solace in the night

Walking in the dark
Hiding a heart that could ever be
Burdened with a love
That always existed...

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Silently
flowing  
feathery wisps 
caressed  by a breath of wind
Changing shapes 
cathedrals spires
castles enshrined
Hearts of love edged in gold
angels wings in
prisms of light 
illuminate a silent world of
seductive  curves
sweeping lines 
in rainbow colors
For a while
 gloomy
 dark  puffy eyes
 send silvery  teardrops 
upon us all
then give way 
 to brilliant sunsets  
 awesome splendor
one  heartbeat  
from eternity....

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There, above the line of cars,
Clouds wait patiently for me.
Ignoring bleating horns and car exhaust, 
My spirit is not ready to rise.
            
                       *

I know the air is pure above the clouds,
But I still must breathe deeply of this life.
Tho food sustains me, I yearn for the
Sweet sustenance I find only
In forest cathedrals.

                         *

It is there I will let clouds take me.




12/30/13...

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NEGLECTED    BEAUTY

Beauty-mica granite sidewalks shining 
Fontanka and Moika  Canals  like Venice boreal
Boats  flopping, tourist cameras aligning
Gold-domed  architecture monumental 
Kazan cathedral  needing  facelift, declining





Notes :

(SPB = Saint  Petersburg,  Russia )
Almost all sidewalks in SPB  are granite
There are many canals in SPB, and these two are more famous than others
Kazan is only one of several lovely cathedrals in SPB...

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Some say, poetry is an art!
painting pictures with words – 
the artist may reply: “Then
why not just paint?” Some say,
that poetry is music, words
being the Poet's instruments – 
to which the musician may
reply: “Why not just play?”
Some say, poetry is a voice:
the poet's choir of sounds,
echoes from his soul's sonorous 
cathedrals – to which the singer
may reply, “Why not just
sing?” Some say, some say,
some say...to which the poet
may reply: Yep! Yup! Yip!...

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Claude.
                                              Paris
                                          at Giverny.
                                 Reflections, impressions.
                                The painter of light and color.
                        Footbridges, cathedrals, dreamlike nature.
                                      A lover of water lilies.
                                             Monet's
                                               art....

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Bird chatter echoes mutual greetings
psalms reciting Other’s praising morning light
promising their co-enrapture of return
before light fades to dusk this night.

Birds echo cathedrals of tree majestic chatter,
underflight of bees and insect buzz growing conjoined refrain
evening’s glad sung massive eulogy
consecrates this flying day’s compline, 
grace delight.

Liturgy of Earth flight song
echoes shattering light,
entering as exiting each shared dark mythic night....

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there is power herein the roots and vines
soil and grass and trees entwines
cathedrals of silence hewn of bone
stripped of flesh to rest alone
within a place where human eyes
may never see nor improvise
their preconceptions of the dead
where death shifts with relentless tread
and stamps his everlasting seal
on all that once was corporeal
and in the peel of windchime keys
sings ribs and legs and ivories
and skulls with empty sockets bare
no longer see...no longer care...

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