They say it is, but I never see
Words from them, words for me
Venial sins, mortal deeds
Hallow what the preacher reads
They separate on race and creed
Their lustful hearts abound with greed
The fallow fields lack of seed
A prophet’s testament to heed
A ministry of lies and hate
No thinking, no breathing, no debate
The problems we face, they don’t abate
Rewrite the commandments on the slate
May God punish them for what they speak
May He burn them inside-out and let havoc reek
May at the Devil’s call they do retreat
To their gorgeous homes on Satan street
It is the eighth hour of shadowy fog,
And she writhes on dampened sheets
with frozen anguish thawing minutes
weighed on jagged umbra of night's hoot.
Somehow, silhouettes of light
begin to kindle as
the bleak of hours mirror
her own disquiet from love's demise,
remembering faces of kin
smelling of tar and mint , knitting arms
flamed though morn's play,
then doused by ink of eve ~
all gone in a flash.
She quivers quietly hums her way
through the glass pane,
this time aware that she inhabits
life gently , slowly;
her long shadows of fear,
of abandonment, of venial sins
desecrating her newfound grip
of wholeness... not anymore.
Lithesome steps lead me to an ancient
temple
Perched across a bay, weeds and
hyacinths curl between my feet,
Where mist refills bowl of cotton clouds
As rustling breeze ascends on skyline's ladder.
In stillness, I lounge on the pew to whisper unsaid psalmic devotions
for a world which aches for calmer
retreat--
That I reach a peak where the mind
becomes absent--
Then I hear them , a medley of peals
Lifting me higher in regulated tempo from gong
rhythms,
A music swelling in warm temperance Until warm kiln of light and radiant
fireflies stir my kundalini.
On this treasured moment, a sentient
energy
Cleanses my beingness from past sins -- mortal and venial-
That I listen to the clang of my inner child's soft echoes entering my veins:
Somewhere in blank spaces, bells swing of
innocent laughter...a treble,
a clap
bringing me to the kindness of youth,
And my body stays quiet, welcoming this rite of
passage on days when the spirit calls for an
interlude's break...a meditative
connection with
the self--
without the need to speak.
I broke
my proper thumb
within venial borders
a shear from a bygone era
on your
tip of the iceberg
you spread a ruffle in my
bleeding shadows
we steer
the flow
on with the ebb and tideway
cutter with sawtoothed teeth
the scorn
of buoyant tethering
In a state of torpidity
5st PLACE CONTEST WINNER
Written: March 27, 2022
A BRIAN STRAND 1098 Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Brian Strand
THIS IS AN OPEN(organic) FORM VERSE without grammatical symbols the ' open' relies upon 'the one breath limitation' & so inherently requires the 'reader' (reciter) to input and respond thus making the form a two way interplay and often a unique interpretation by the enigma so derived. ( Poem inspired by Poet Brian Strand Form)
On entering the confessional we should kneel, make the sign of the Cross and say to the priest, Bless me Father; then add I confess to Almighty God and to you Father, that I have sinned
The first things we should tell the priest in the Confession are the time of your last confession, and whether he said the penance and went to Holy Communion
After telling the time of our last Confession and Communion we should confess all the mortal sins we have committed, and all the venial sins we may wish to mention
When the confessor asks us questions we must answer them truthfully and clearly
After telling our sins we should listen with attention to the advice which the confessor may think proper to give
We should end confession by saying I also accuse myself of all the sins of my past life, telling if we choose one or several of our past sins
While the priest is giving us absolution we should from our heart renew the act of contrition
Original sin is not the only kind of sin
Another kind of sin which we commit ourselves, called the actual sin
Kinds of Actual sins are Mortal and Venial
Mortal Sin is a grievous offence against the law of God
Venial Sin is a slight offense against the law of God in matters of less importance; or in matters of great importance it is an offence committed without sufficient reflection or full consent of the will
The chief sources of sins are seven. Pride, Covetousness or greedy, Lust, Anger, Gluttony, Envy and Sloth or laziness and they are called (7) Capital Sins
Various vagabonds vandalized viable vertebrae.
Vitalizing voodooist’s vociferous vultures verified.
Vagarious vagrants vainly validating vultures’ vocabulary.
Variety of vertebrae venomously vindicating venial vagabonds.
Vivid visuals and verbalization veers to my vibrant vocalization
This variorum
A voice vernacularly vast and vigil with a voluble velocity
Vitalizing the vows in my views
From venting to vomiting
Verses against the vain become volumes about viral variform’s and our voluntary vices
Both viable and venial
Vigorous with a vengeance towards the virus of the modern vision, turning a visionary into a vacant stare
Victims of virtual vendettas, purposeless variables to create a vortex where the vantaged remain victor
The virtuous and valiant stay violated and undervalued while what's vital is just venom in disguise
No vaccine
No volition among the various
The virulent will not vanish at this vertex so we must validate where vertical really leads
I must be vocal on this voyage, vigilant with this vessel and my verbiage approach
Vindictive towards the vile and yet vivacious with every step towards the verge of vacuity
Oh my divinity, shalt thou absolve me?
For I bruised and gashed she
For I deceived and deposed she
For I breached and abondoned she
For I let she go and escaped .
Oh my almighty,canst thou be venial?
Copyright © Dawa Zangpo |24/07/2018.
This morning I was lying in my bed
With a storm going inside my head
Sometimes there are little things that bother me
Which are too miniscule to see
When I read the news later today
I realized how lucky I am to wake up each day
I told myself, at that moment
I am not going to spend time on relentless vent
Life is too short to worry about the trivial
You should forgive people for the venial
Those who can’t see the good in you
Do not deserve to be in your chosen few
The 'crucial' material, superficial and trivial,
Affects subjects in context of perfected defects,
Venial miracles, remedials for the cynical,
Introspect. Project and infect, this selected side-effect.
14/08/17
English Martyrs
As we were preaching, praying,
sharing Gospel, we were arrested,
tried for treason and executed
for sharing Jesus’ faith and his signs of graces.
We were priests, apostles, prudent men.
We lived in times where it was a crime
to celebrate Eucharist, say the Mass,
to participate in sacraments as if they were bad things.
Eucharist, nourishment of the soul,
which cleanses venial sins.
Who has the power over man conscience,
over Ethics and freedom?
Who can make crime out of a belief?
Corrupt monarch indeed.
Think of it this way
All illnesses make our body sick
Some can kill you others just make you just miserable for a while
All need healing
The same can be a state of sins
Some sins can cause us to lose our eternal lives
Others just delay our entry to Heaven
The makes a distinction between mortal and venial sins
The same can be a state of sins
Some sins can cause us to lose our eternal lives
Others just delay our entry to Heaven
The makes a distinction between mortal and venial sins
Mortal sin is a deliberate
Intentional
Or on purpose turning away from God
His laws
Mortal sin is to must be a grave
Or serious choice against God
Sinner must be aware of how bad it is but choose to do it anyway
On the other hand
venial sin is falling short of our obligations to God
Others without completely turning from God
It is like loitering
wait
Or hang about the road to heaven versus taking one that leads away from it
The good news is that no matter how lost we get
God will always take us back through the Sacrament of Reconciliation orunderstanding (Confession).
I was the first to drown
in the crimson sea
A rising tide of emotions
were caught in the storm
A harmony of hearts
And lightning flashes
Take a breath
Soak it all in
Cathartic release
Achieved only in death
Sublime melodies
In chaotic felony
Place your beliefs in purgatory
Shackled by fear
Take a look
Soak it all in
Venial sins
In a relaxed stasis
Apathetic serenades
Behind blood barricades
My mind is a forsaken fortress
Full of broken verses
Listen closely
Soak it all in
Reference points in any circumstance
can be the wheel of east, west
north and south---
hourglass of my soul, where do I now cross
the road of life that leads me to the
unknown?
And so I head to this venial, mortal path
in a pace swerving from
doubt to wisdom.
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