Upon the walls a scene unfolds,
A moment held, though ages told,
The Lord`s Son speaks, with gentle voice
To followers, who don`t rejoice.
“One amidst you will betray me,
With heaven`s grace, so let it be,”
He says, as fear on faces starts
And worry spills on troubled hearts.
Disciples assemble close around,
Upon the holy, sacred ground;
The bread is broken, wine is poured,
A covenant deeply adored.
His hands extend a gentle grace,
To dispel worries on each face,
The shadows lengthen, air grows thin,
A solemn silence settles in.
The flight of time cannot erase
The love poured out in this lone place,
A tapestry of souls so bound,
Where future sorrows can be found.
He knows the path, the bitter end,
The betrayal from a close friend,
Yet peace resides within His gaze,
Despite the coming, tiring days.
A simple supper, a deep sign
Of mercy, perfect and divine,
A memory etched in the soul,
Making all broken spirits whole.
an elk rib rack frenched
pinot noir
garlic
slab bacon
pearl onions
tomato paste
mushrooms
celery
red bell pepper
cayeene pepper
thyme bay leaves
carrots
brown all edges of the elk in olive oil
allow to cool
add wine and salt
Mccormick seasoning
all to marinade for three hours
in a dutch oven
add oilve oil 5 T.
cook bacon !/2done
(1/2 raw add lastly)
sautee carrots, celery,
red bell pepper
add mushrooms and
remove from heat
and add the rib roast
pour in wine
add one cup of water
pearl onions
thyme and bay leaves
add tomato paste
season with more McCormick's
cook for 3 hours at 350.
make a gravy and mash potato's
-----------------------------------------
serve with a grilled veggie salad with goat cheese
and garlic bread
I sincerely hope that
not what you say
maybe you have
it wrong
Silly me
you might think I'm
joking
but i was only hoping
we could maybe dance
to our favorite song
----------------------------
moonlight looks great on you
when you are wearing
something special
a kiss if you're
in the right mood
love got me in a blurred
perspective
Love's got me a little subjective
you're arousing me into
a mood
------------------------------
Tablature
Mmmm
auh ooh wee
auh ooh-auh
ooh wee auh ooh
------------------------------
isn't it so odious
these special moments
it's clear to me
is it as clear to you
ooh-ooh auh
;ooh wee
this has got to be
it's has to me
me and you!
------------------------------
what are they doing? asked my pa
singing for their supper said old grandma
she waddled out there, bird song in the air
and gave them bird food, which seemed quite fair
Fly lands on lush vine.
The greenish-brown mantis prays
in thanks for supper.
Loaded nacho bake
onions tomatoes chili
all poured into one
Every night,
the Father, the Son, and the Spirit
rent a room at the edge of the station,
and ask for
red wine
and dry bread.
The waiter wears
a tired clown mask,
but his hands glow
from within
like sacred relics.
Their dialogue is a rain of nails
that pins the walls of shadows.
I am the silent guest,
the one who drinks the water left in the glasses,
believing it to be
divine mercy itself.
Hare trapped in a bubble,
Too pained by the capture;
Yet chews its last supper.
Even joy precedes pains—
stop your stare,
dare to help.
Though I err,
spare some love,
wipe my tear.
This is the day
We break the bread
Cup full of wine
To numb the head
This is the day
When truth reveals
The veil of lies
A mind conceals
This is the day
We knew would be
That thorny cap
Of destiny
Awaits the king
Of hearts and minds
Releasing all the
Chain that binds
This is the day
A final feast
Then walk to face
The mighty beast
A farewell toast
A hug goodbye
Of knowing me
You will deny
We pivot now
Towards the end
Death's lonely path
My feet to wend
A different way
Would be so nice
Now suffering
To sacrifice
This is the day
We eat our last
So I can save you
From your past
So, go I must
My words they stay
New life awaits
This is the day
It is here that children are given instructions on what it means to be human. We make men at it, we make women.
Joy Harjo her poem Perhaps the World Ends Here
Supper Table
There was a time when the supper
table was a gathering place.
A time when children and parents
sat down together.
A time when television, computers,
cell phones didn’t interfere.
A time where open and honest
discussions were held.
A time when manners and social
skills were taught.
A time of laughter and tears and
sometimes discipline.
A time when children learned what
it meant to grow up.
That time has passed.
The mole of a substance
Avogadro Constant
Molar mass
borax and colemanite
boron is derived
from these bornite
minerals
volcanic springs
orthoboric acid
the most important of these is
rasorite
naturally occurrence
from the weathering of
rock material
sourced from
air, soil and water
mass number of 11
and containing 5 protons
and 6 neutrons.
full-scale fusion
B-111
Rows of forgiveness
fallow in winter
Waiting for summer
their treasure installed
Leftover morsels
heated in darkness
Sating the hunger
of those who are called
Seeds from the past
replenish the future
Buried salvation
awaits in the ground
Fasting on yesterday
feasting tomorrow
Waiting for supper
— when dinner bells sound
(The New Room: February, 2025)
My house is always full of laughter,
Never quiet, only bursting from the noise,
There's not a single day, ever the same,
Bringing up my three, wild, yet wonderful boys.
But when it comes to bedtime,
A never-ending battle to get done,
For once I wish they'd realise,
That it's not the time for fun.
Constantly winding each other up,
Only ending when one of them cries,
When all it is, I really want,
Is them to rest and close their eyes.
I'm sick to death of hearing,
I don't know how you cope,
One night they might do as told,
For this I pray and hope.
I'm bored, thirsty or hungry they say,
Whenever they know bedtime is near,
Rolling my eyes, I give in to their demands,
Longing for the day it's no longer,
"The Last Supper" here.
Snapping it up with so much zeal
The shiny black shag with its slinky eel.
The sand eel squirmed and slipped back to the sea.
The shag said stop, please stay with me!
You want to eat me said the edible eel.
I do not want to be your meal.
I see you swim under the sea
At speeds much faster than slithering me.
You will swallow me whole.
And then where will I be?
In my belly, of course, said the shag smilingly!
Hand of Mechanical Mayhem,
wrought upon the Ghosts of the Machine,
lost in the Whirring Cog of the Lunar Alignment,
where a Shepard’s Pie cooked in the beam of light.
Dinner is done.
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