The Nun
She was black.
A salvation army nun,
and I was just me,
though richer than
usual,
waiting
for my connection
to take me to heaven
to my version of God.
She asked and I gave.
“You are a good man”
she told me.
“God will not forget you.”
“God is dead.” I replied.'
“..and you don’t need
Nietzsche or the 12 o’clock
news to tell you that”
“I pray He will
forgive you your
blasphemy.”
she answered.
“So do I.”
I replied.
'So do I'
We both smiled
knowingly.
poem by Carsten Thomsen
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Related quotes
Conversation with God
One day while I was dreaming I heard a soft like voice
It called me to a pond
and asked to recite
the stories of my childhood
I thought it very strange
Then with deafening noise it came
It took me to the pond and asked me 'what I could see'
'I see me' I replied
'Very good' it said
'Now do you see' it asked
'I see a little child with hair as bright as fire'
'Who is that child' it asked
'It is me' I replied again
'Do you remember what that child was like'
'No' I replied
'Until you become a child again you'll see no more'
'I do not understand' I said
'You will' came the voice
'When' I asked
'When you believe that I am real'
'But you are real' I answered
'Only one who truly believes can understand'
poem by Rachel Branscombe
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Sunflowers After Sex.
After the sex she stood
In front of the Van Gogh
Painting and gazed. Never
Saw that last night, she said.
It was dark, Max replied.
She touched the painting
With her fingers. Why have
A painting of flowers when
You can go out and buy some?
She asked. They last longer this
Way, he replied. So did you
Paint this? She asked in a state
Of semi undress, her eyes sleepy,
Her hair in a mess. No, Van Gogh
Did, he replied. Is he a friend of
Yours? She asked rubbing her breasts.
He sighed and shook his head. No,
Van Gogh painted that many years
Ago, now he’s dead. It’s a bit yellow,
She said, looking at the painting
Closer, what are those yellow flowers
Supposed to be? Sunflowers, he said,
They’re big flowers; people grow them
For real. She raised her eyebrows and
Pulled a face. What about that drink?
She asked. Sure, Max replied pouring
Her gin in a tall glass. She took, sipped
And winked an eye. What about more
Sex? She sighed. Sure, Max, looking at
Van Gogh’s Sunflowers, boringly replied.
poem by Terry Collett
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A Perpetual Stream Of Sacred Consciousness
I asked the mountain
You are very strong
you will exist till the end of creation
The mountain replied numbly
No, Nay, not so
the water can flow me and
convert me to a plain land
then my existence will vanish
I asked the rock
no one can melt you
the rock also replied numbly
No, Nay not so
the water can melt me
and I will be no more
I asked the trees
the water will destroy you
the tree replied
No, Nay not so
it shall irrigate me and
give me life
I asked each and every creatures
all replied
water is more soft, more rich
and more strong
it can destroy and give life too
it can quench thirst of all
and give life to all
I asked the Water
You are soft and mild
You are rich and strong too
The water replied
No, Nay not so
I may be dried at any time
It is poetry,
a perpetual stream of sacred consciousness
flowing ever and ever
beyond the stars and planets and
even beyond plenty of universe
The Poetry can save me and
pray to God for my survival.
poem by Ramesh Rai
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The Little Chimney Sweep - Victorian Times
What is above all these chimneys, I asked the young lad,
The chimney sweep boy replied,
Why Sir, it's the sky which is sometimes so blue,
That when I look up and glance at the view,
Such glory cannot be denied.
What lies in that sky then, I asked the young lad,
The boy gazing up now replied,
Oh Sir, clouds and sunshine, at night moon and stars,
Planets like Jupiter, Saturn and Mars,
What wonders out there can be spied?
Is your work very unbearable, I asked the young lad,
Most times Sir, it is, he replied,
From dawn until dusk, I'm climbing to sweep,
The soot from the chimneys, for my food and my keep,
My Master cannot be defied.
Do you 'welcome' the sky, I asked the young lad,
When I'm climbing, I do, he replied,
It's my friend when it's dark and the way up is hard,
Because sometimes I get burn't and then badly scarred,
There's many a time I have cried.
What then do you wish for, I asked the young lad,
With yearning, he slowly replied,
I would love to be free and fly like the birds,
Way up in the sky, and if I had the words,
Write about how I'd feel like inside.
poem by Ernestine Northover
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And Pussy cat
Pussy pussy cat pussy cat
Where have you been
And pussy cat replied
He had been to London
To look at the queen
Again I asked Pussy cat
Where have you been
And pussy cat replied
He had been to Odisha
To look at English
Rule of Nabin.
Pussy cat pussy cat
Further I asked where
Have you been and
Pussy cat replied
He had been to see
Odia people who are fool
And how odia people
Still remain cool
Pussy pussy cat
I asked where have
You been and pussy cat
Replied he had been
To India to see
The democratic rule.
poem by Gajanan Mishra
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A Rose-bud advises man…
I asked a rose-bud, ‘who gave you your beauty? ’
And it replied, ‘my mother’s sap gave me! ’
I asked again, ‘who gave your mother plant, its sap? ’
It said, ‘the soil and rain by roots, the sun through leaves! ’
I asked the rose-bud, ‘who gave the soil, sun and rain such abilities? ’
It replied, ‘the One who made all things, and you and me! ’
And now the rose-bud asked me, ‘But why do you ask such questions?
Are you not made beautiful too by the same One,
Who made me, the moon, sky, soil and sun?
And yet, like you, we cannot walk or run! ’
It continued, ‘we plants feel sad we cannot move like how you do! ’
‘We buds grow bigger by each dawn;
The Maker feels so happy when we’re born,
And smiles on seeing us each morn,
Turning ecstatic, when we blossom on,
The landscape to perfume and to adorn –
By morrow, most of us are almost gone! ’
I asked the rose-bud, ‘are the dew-drops then because you cry? ’
And it replied, ‘they are the tears of joy and sadness of God on high,
Who knows we are born to sooner die.’
But tell me man, such questions, you ask, ‘why? ’
The rose-bud went on:
‘God gave you man, woman, a long life-span;
And do many things, you surely can! ’
God made you far more beautiful!
Be satisfied and be dutiful;
God is our Master One, most wonderful!
Praise Him, thank Him for all His gifts to you, bountiful! ’
Copyright by Dr John Celes 2-2-2010
poem by John Celes
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Try Again
Later that evening, only a feeling
But it was there in the air that we share in the twilight
Humming a sad song, where was our day gone
But in the dark was a spark, a remark I remember
"Try again", she replied to some story I told
"Try again", yes I will if I can
Oh, all I need is somebody to hold
Learning a feeling, seeking a meaning
Finding a way, should she stay, how to say let's imagine
Maybe I'll go wrong, an evening that last long
But in the night all the light must be right for this moment
"Try again", she replied to some story I told
"Try again", yes I will if I can
Oh, all I need is somebody to hold
"Try again", she replied to some story I told
"Try again", yes I will if I can
Oh, all I need is somebody to hold
"Try again", she replied to some story I told
"Try again", yes I will if I can
Oh, all I need is somebody to hold
Submitted by Michael Hack
song performed by by Supertramp
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Fay and You and The Fading Bruise
Fay met you
at the bus stop
on the New Kent Road
she was dressed
in the lemon coloured dress
you liked
and her hair
was pulled tight
into a ponytail
where are you going?
she asked
to the Globe
you said
what Shakespeare's Globe?
she asked
no the fleapit cinema
at Camberwell Green
you replied
oh
she said
I've never been there
my daddy doesn't like
me going to cinemas
he says they're
dens of sin
she looked at you
as if you would confirm
her father's words
well it's certainly a den
you stated
but whether its
of sin I don't know
she looked puzzled
and touched
her ponytail
with her hand
are you coming along?
you asked
she looked about
as if her father
might be behind her
should I?
she asked
do you want to?
yes
she replied
then let's go
but I haven't any money
she said
I have enough
you said
my Mother gave me money
for chores I did
oh I see
she muttered
and she bit her lip
what would my daddy say
if he saw me?
he won't
how can you be so sure?
trust me
you said
fathers know little
of what their kids do
she smiled
if you think so
she said
sure I do
besides it'll
do you good
you said
giving her a smile
and then the bus came
and you both got on
and sat next
to each other
and you paid
the bus conductor
the fare
and as the bus
moved off
you both swayed
to the motion
of the bus
her arm touching yours
the fading bruise
on her flesh
a mixture of yellow
and brown
and blue
but you said nothing
besides you thought
if her old man
beats her
what the hell
can I do?
poem by Terry Collett
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Cattle Food
AN ELDERLY NATIVE WENT VISITING AT A CITY, AND ON HIS ARRIVAL, HIS HOST QUICKLY TOOK HIM TO AN EXPENSIVE RESTAURANT FOR A WELCOME MEAL!
WHAT WILL BE YOUR ORDER TODAY SIR? A WAITRESS ASKED THE CITIZEN AND HE REPLIED, MY USUAL WOULD BE IN ORDER! AND THE WAITRESS TURNED TO THE ELDERLY NATIVE AND SAID, SIR! WHAT WOULD BE YOUR ORDER? AND THE NATIVE REPLIED, MY USUAL WOULD BE IN ORDER!
THE WAITRESS ASSUMING THAT THEY BOTH WANTED THE CITIZEN'S USUAL PLATE OF VEGETABLE SALAD, WALKED OFF TO GET THE FOOD.
ON HER RETURN WITH THE FOOD, THE CITIZEN IMMEDIATTELY BEGAN TO EAT HIS FOOD, WHILE THE ELDERLY NATIVE SAT FROWNING AT THE PLATE OF SALAD PLACED BEFORE HIM, AFTER A WHILE, HE ASKED HIS HOST, DEAR FRIEND, WAS YOURS WELL COOKED? MINE LOOKS AS IF IT WASN'T EVEN COOKED AT ALL!
poem by Overlord Don Manuel Ihcakeyno
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Fay and You and the Ruler.
Fay met you
on your way home
from school
standing by the entrance
of Meadow Row
she was in her school uniform
a satchel
over a shoulder
how was school?
she asked
boring and the day
too long
you replied
but at least
you can learn things
she said
like how
to make a candle
holder in woodwork?
finding some river
in India
I'll never see?
you said
she smiled shyly
well maybe you will
she said
how are you?
you asked
ok
she replied
got told off
by Sister Bernard
for not having a ruler
what did you do
with your ruler?
you asked
lost it
she said
ah well
there you are
you said
naughty naughty
she walked on
down Meadow Row
and you walked
beside her
actually
she said quietly
my daddy took it
she stood still
and stared at you
he beat me
with it
she said
in a whisper
you looked
into her eyes
and saw your
reflection there
two yous
staring back
why?
you asked
taking in her paleness
her fair hair tied
in a ponytail
he said l hadn't done
my jobs properly
jobs?
you asked
around the house
helping my mum
and did you? help?
yes usually
but I forgot
this time
big crime
you said
won't he give
the ruler back?
no
she said
he said he will keep it
as a lesson to me
can't you buy
a new one?
you asked
I haven't any money
she said
you can have
one of mine
you said
I have plenty at home
can I borrow one?
you can have one
she smiled weakly
her eyes lit up
and she took one
of your hands
and held it
I'll have to hide it though
she said
or he'll take
that one too
quite a guy your dad
you said
she looked away
at the bombed out houses
on the left hand side
you saw her hurt
and sadness
some things you can't hide.
poem by Terry Collett
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I cannot forget a conversation that I had with an elderly couple from the tribe. They asked me whether I would kill them after I had finished. When I asked them why they asked that, they replied, Because you white men always do!
quote by Roland Joffe
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Alice Sick
SICK, Alice grown, and fearing dire event,
Some friend advised a servant should be sent
Her confessor to bring and ease her mind;--
Yes, she replied, to see him I'm inclined;
Let father Andrew instantly be sought:--
By him salvation usually I'm taught.
A MESSENGER was told, without delay,
To take, with rapid steps, the convent way;
He rang the bell--a monk enquired his name,
And asked for what, or whom, the fellow came.
I father Andrew want, the wight replied,
Who's oft to Alice confessor and guide:
With Andrew, cried the other, would you speak?
If that's the case, he's far enough to seek;
Poor man! he's left us for the regions blessed,
And has in Paradise ten years confessed.
poem by La Fontaine
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The Coin And A Boy
THE COIN AND A BOY
WHY DO YOU LOOK SO UNHAPPY SONNY? A MAN ASKED A YOUNG LAD WHO HE MET ON THE WAY TO HIS STALL! AND THE BOY REPLIED THUS, SAYING, I LOST MY COIN, AND AS I CRIED, A MAN GAVE ME ANOTHER COIN! HE STATED, AND THE INQUISITIVE MAN ASKED AGAIN, IF THAT BE SO, THEN WHY DO YOU LOOK SO UNHAPPY STILL? AND THE BOY REPLIED, OH, NOW THAT I HAVE THIS COIN, IT WOULD HAVE BEEN TWO COINS WITH ME INSTEAD OF ONE, IF I HADNT LOST MY COIN! HE STATED
poem by Overlord Don Manuel Ihcakeyno
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A little boy came home and told his mother he had gotten first prize in an examination. The question had been How many legs does a horse have He had answered, Three. When his mother asked how he had gotten the first prize, he replied that all the other children had said, Two.
quote by Richard Kehl
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Ch 02 The Morals Of Dervishes Story 44
I asked a good man concerning the qualities of the brethren of purity. He replied: ‘The least of them is that they prefer to please their friends rather than themselves; and philosophers have said that a brother who is fettered by affairs relating to himself is neither a brother nor a relative.’
If thy fellow traveller hastens, he is not thy fellow.
Tie not thy heart to one whose heart is not tied to thine.
When a kinsman possesses no virtue and piety
Then severing connection is better than love of kinship.
I remember that an opponent objected to the last two lines, saying: ‘God the most high and glorious has in his noble book prohibited the severing of connection with relatives and has commanded us to love them. What thou hast alleged is contrary to it.’ I replied: ‘Thou art mistaken because according to the Quran, Allah the most high has said: If they both father and mother, strive to induce thee to associate with me that concerning which thou hast no knowledge, obey them not.
A thousand kinsmen who are strangers to God
Are the sacrifice for one stranger who knows him.
Outshining the Sun.
Bob West said
why are you always
looking towards
the girl's playground?
Looking for someone
you replied
who? Bob asked
A girl who gets
on my school bus
Bob pulled a face
and combed
his black oily hair
is she good looking?
Like an angel
you said
and peered
at the playground
across the way
where girls were
skipping or walking
in pairs
See her yet?
Bob asked
no not yet
you muttered
wishing you had
hoping she'd come
into view
don't see any point in girls
Bob said
putting his comb away
in a top pocket
wiping his hands
on his grey trousers
my dad said
they're only after two things
money and babies
steer away from them Bob
he said
you watched
as girls moved
about the playground
each dressed in grey skirts
and green tops
haven't you ever
been moved by a girl?
You asked
moved? Bob said
moved?
Ain't no girl
going to move me
he muttered
spit hanging
on his lower lip
like a suicidal
waiting to jump
what's this angel girl got
that's so special?
He said taking out
a handkerchief
and wiping his brow
I don't know
you replied
and as you said it
you saw her
come in to view
outshining the sun
more beautiful
than summer
and staring at you.
poem by Terry Collett
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Bible in Poetry: Gospel of St. Matthew (Chapter 20)
Heaven is like a landowner,
Who left by dawn from his vineyard,
To hire laborers to work;
He fixed their daily wages and
And made them work in his vine-land.
He met others at nine o’clock,
In market-place, standing idle;
He promised to pay what was just,
And send them off to his vineyard.
He left again at noon likewise,
And around three o’clock also;
At five o’clock, he found some more,
And asked them why they stood idle.
They told him none had hired them;
He sent them to vineyard to work.
When evening came, the owner told
His foreman to summon workers;
He ordered him to pay them all,
Starting from last, ending with first.
The ones who came by five o’clock,
Received their daily wages first;
But when the first ones came at last,
They thought they would receive extra;
They got just wages as spoken,
And grumbled at the landowner.
They said, ‘For one hour’s work, the last
Were paid equal to us although
We bore the day’s burden and heat.’
The landowner then said to one,
‘Do you feel I have cheated you?
Didn’t you agree on what I spoke?
Take what is yours and kindly leave.
What if I pay the last as you? ’
‘Am I not free to keep my word
And pay my money as I wish?
Do you envy my kind nature? ’
‘Therefore the last shall become first,
And first shall become last also.’
To Jerusalem, Jesus went
And told his twelve disciples there,
‘Behold, the Son of Man shall be
Soon handed o’er to chief priests, scribes;
And they will condemn Him to death;
And hand Him to the Gentiles then,
For being mocked and scourged before,
They crucify Him upon cross;
But He’ll be raised on the third day! ’
Zebedee’s mother with her sons,
Paid homage and wished for something;
Then Jesus asked, ‘What do you wish?
She answered Him, ‘Command my sons
Are made to sit with you along,
One at your right, other at left,
In your kingdom, when it happens.’
Jesus replied, ‘You do not know
The nature of the thing you ask;
Can you drink from my cup like me?
They answered back, ‘Yes, Lord, we can! ’
Then Jesus told, ‘Indeed you can
Drink from the cup I’m going to drink;
To sit at my right and my left,
Is not the privilege, I can give,
But happens as my Father tells.’
The ten who heard this got angry,
At the two brothers and mother;
Jesus said. ‘You know how Gentile
Rulers lord it ov’r them, to make
Their authority, felt by them? ’
So, shall it be amongst you too;
The one who wishes to be great,
Shall be your servant in that case;
The one who wishes to be first,
Shall be your slave to so become;
The Son of Man came to give life,
As ransom for many of you,
But never came to be served then.’
On leaving Jericho, a crowd
Had followed Him wherev’r, He went; ;
Two blind men sitting by roadside,
Cried out, ‘Lord, have on us, pity.
You Son of David, show mercy.’
So, Jesus stopped and asked of them,
‘Tell me what you want me to do.’
They answered back, ‘Give us our sight.’
Then Jesus touched their eyes at once,
As He felt pity on the two,
And they, could see from that moment.
poem by John Celes
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Ch 04 On The Advantages Of Silence Story 14
A fellow with a disagreeable voice happened to be reading the Quran, when a pious man passed near, and asked him what his monthly salary was. He replied: ‘Nothing.’ He further inquired: ‘Then why takest thou this trouble?’ He replied: ‘I am reading for God’s sake.’ He replied: ‘For God’s sake do not read.’
If thou readest the Quran thus
Thou wilt deprive the religion of splendour.
When asked, ""What news from the sea?"" The fish replied ""I have a lot to say, but my mouth is full of water.""
A Matter of Trust on a Summer's Day
Jane's mother said
she was up by the church
and so you went up
the path leading
to the church of St Mary
and there she was
laying some flowers
on a gravestone
she looked up
as you approached
and smiled
your mother told me
you were here
you said
I think Mother
must like you
she wouldn't
have told you
otherwise
Jane said
getting up
from the graveside
and brushing her hands
on her summery dress
who are the flowers for?
you asked
looking at the flowers
placed in a small jar
on the grave
a parishioner
we used to know
who used to like
this type of flower
oh I see
you said
looking at the graves around
and the Downs further back
and the trees nearby
where did you want to go?
you asked
how about a walk to Cocking?
we can do some shopping
while we're there
and enjoy each other's
company in the process
is it far? you asked
a mile or so
she replied
ok
you said
and you followed her
down the path
and along the lane
to her house
and you waited outside
while she went inside
after a few minutes
her mother came out
with her and said
it's very good of you
to go with Jane
all that way
I wouldn't like her
to go alone
that's all right
you said
and she smiled
and went in side
and Jane said
see she trusts you
not many boys
around here
she'd say that to
oh right
you said
looking at
her dark hair
and her eyes
gazing at you
and her hand
holding a shopping bag
and her lips
breaking into a smile
come on
she said and
so she took
your hand
and you walked
along the lane
keeping close
to the hedgerow
the sun warm
and the sky blue
and you sensed a joy
of it being
just her and you.
poem by Terry Collett
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