Short Rosaries Poems

Posters painted
By law tainted
Rosaries rattling
Prayers prattling
Police swoop
Spirits droop
Whisked away
Because they pray
For children unborn
Innocent lives shorn
In abortion clinics
Cold cash for callous cynics...

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There's plenty of goodness out there
but it's been fanged by the puff adder DJS
now goodness is slowly dying on media vines 
behind boarded up windows and riot fire
with pistols and rosaries at the ready
awaiting the fires of salvation...

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ESCAPE

break away from
the tableau that holds me
triggered by impulses that blind
more than usual corruptible beasts
clicking rosaries with their claws
impulse slowly subsides
aversion to

ESCAPE



© Kim van Breda—23 November 2014...

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POLICE BRUTALITY MAY BE CAUSED 
BY THEIR STORM TROOPER UNIFORMS AND ACCOUTREMENTS
DRESS THEM IN NUN’S HABITS WITH A ROSARIES AND 
THEY MAY SHOW MORE COMPASSION
DRESS THEM IN A CLOWN’S OUTFIT WITH BIG SHOES AND 
THEY MAY SHOW MORE HUMILITY
DRESS THEM AS GOD 
AND THEY MAY LOOK OVER HUMANITY
AS THEY SHOULD...

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Most of my flying now
is restricted to planes,
feet less able to 
“trip the life fantastic” -- 

age having slowed fast living
to delayed starts and early
finishes – 

joining the genuflecting
lines, many of us
striving for sainthood
in latter years, fingering
rosaries – chanting on knees

converts 
at Altar of years…....

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Fey King knelt to me.
Hearts engraved with oak leaves
Songs of fires and green rosaries
Bands of merchants plying their wares
Queens ascending toward mountains glen
Scenes of battle and quests of yore
Live contention favors from source
Cosmic gardens Love branching forth
Trees connecting roots deep in the earth
Stars descending fall from the sky
Open secret I never die.
...

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One picture appears to be ovaries.

said our rosaries
please protect our ovaries
here and overseas

on sabbatical
that had become tactical
being  radical

investigated
then we had contemplated
interrogated

seemed stimulated
proving prevaricated
so poorly stated

had tolerated
was never educated
eradicated

while an allusion
would have caused much confusion
disturbed by delusion...

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I see the smoke exiting my lungs passing my lips, barely there now.
I feel the change coming over me.
I battle I must face.
My combat has commenced.
I will no longer sit on the fence.
I say farewell to friends.
Friends who are going to war.
I will pray rosaries for you.
I will go to your funerals.
But now I turn my back and walk the other direction.
I have my own fight to fight.
And I have my own light to light....

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Penance

A thousand souls queue 
outside his confessional while
he scans the cards of sins.
How many
Hail Marys, Our Fathers,
rosaries will be
dealt today?

Wisely dispensed devotions
from behind the brown curtain,
the shadow grid,
will part God’s pearly gates
for a penitent multitude.

I’m at the back of the line
and worry I’ll not make it 
to the booth in time. 

©Kathryn McLoughlin Collins
April 21, 2012...

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On a blustery Sunday in May
  an odd little message came my way
on a whispering wind from the west
  in the strangest code it was dressed

Abel, Cain, Jacob, Esau, Samson, Delilah, it said
  Single or married, we're all cut down in the end
Madame Curie, Einstein, Enrico Fermi, Christianity
  Science's gleaming Cross wreathed with rosaries

Once the meaning I grasped, I inhaled to gasp
  when struck dead by Cleopatra Philopater's asp...

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Lilies of lucent light,
single file walking along
the cloudless pathway of
the songbirds' garden kingdom.

How fair the child lilies,
a gathering of the guiltless,
in snow-white
First Holy Communion dresses
with lacy veils.
Seven year old springtime
girls with pearly rosaries,
betrothed to the benevolent
Lord in spirit.

They receive the purity of
the Communion wafer
representing His covenant,
they are His lilies of lucent light. ~...

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I feel solidified
Captured in blue-green horizon
They are eternal and faceless
My lungs; brown paper bags deflating
My milk structures are curdling
There are tiny mouths taking microscopic airs
Aerated and heavy as oxygen in a stone sphere
Gaumless and watched by black-ochre shadows circling
Compacted as mud underfoot and crushed
By reaching hands exploring my hollow flesh
Taking me further down and circles of dust
Rosaries in waterlogged,...

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long after the mass,
the cavernous cathedral 
still hums and echoes 
with hymns coming down 
it seems from nooks 
and topmost rafters 
of its roofs;

veiled, veined women 
with long black rosaries
thumb through dark-brown, 
worn-out books in their
wrinkled hands, sighing,
murmuring, sobbing,
praying still.

behind them two janitors
noisily move about 
sweeping the aisles,
dusting the pews,
trying to say  let's go,
got work to do,
can't say so....

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