Mary and the Old Priest.
The old priest sat
in the dark of the
confessional. A girl
had entered on the
other side and knelt.
A rustle of clothing,
breathing, a cough.
He was prepared for
the list of sins, the
the soft voice verbal
sprouting, the usual
schoolgirl misdemeanours.
Yes my child? He said.
Mary on the other
side stared at the grille,
tried to make out which
was the priest. Bless me
Father she began, then
the list ran. The priest
placed his hands over
his ears. The list was long,
indelicate, touching on
the obscene. He fumbled
with his beads, tried to
make out the voice,
the owner, which girl?
He thought, peering into
the grille, his eyes searching
through the semi dark.
Mary pushed her knees
together; she sensed the
need to pee. She knelt holding
herself in, pushed her hands
between thighs. How long
was the old codger going to be?
She mused. The priest coughed.
Sniffed, tried to discover the
scent. He said the usual words,
about trying to avoid the occasion
of sin, have faith, and so forth
uttered in a strained voice.
He peered hard. The outlined
figure fidgeted, moved from side
to side. Never in his born days
had he. He uttered the absolution,
made a sign of the cross. Then
she was gone. The light there
then not there. A smell of sin?
What was it? No, not urine?
poem by Terry Collett
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Life of a Roman Catholic Priest
A priest is nearest Christ;
A priest is Christ at times;
A priest is almost Christ;
A priest is most divine.
A priest is God’s shepherd;
A priest must tend to flock;
A priest must be like ‘rock’;
A priest should ne’er defrock.
A priest communes with God;
A priest draws hope from Lord;
A priest shows love of Christ;
A priest carries His Cross!
A priest is tempted too;
A priest has falls in life;
A priest falters also;
A priest has strength from Christ.
A priestly job is tough;
A priest’s life can turn rough;
A priest has strife enough,
But has to smile and laugh!
A priest helps harvest souls;
A priest has many roles;
A priest has but one goal –
To drink from Christ’s own bowl!
Pray that more priests should come;
May priests curb their freedom;
May priest usher Kingdom;
A life for Christ’s welcome.
Fondly dedicated to Rev. Fr. Xavier Claudius,
Beloved Parish priest, ‘Holy Family Church, Perundurai
Copyright by Dr John Celes 25-7-2010
poem by John Celes
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Magdalene and the Beatles's First LP
Magdalene watched Mary
bend down to put on the LP.
The Beatles. They'd saved
up and bought it together.
She took in Mary's stockinged
thigh showing through the slit
in the side of the school skirt.
Mary placed the LP carefully
onto the turntable, with her finger
put the needle arm down onto
the vinyl. The music started up,
Mary stood up and sat next to
Magdalene on the single bed.
Magdalene sensed her there,
her thigh next to hers, her
warmth, their knees almost
touching. What did your Ma
say when you said you bought
the Beatles? Magdalene asked.
She said nowt, Mary replied,
but Da said it was a load of
shite and where did I get
the money from to buy it?
John Lennon's voice sang
over the twanging guitars.
Magdalene said, did you
tell him we bought it together?
Mary nodded. Her hands
pushed between her thighs,
her young face lit up by
the room's light. Don't you
think Paul's a dish? Mary asked.
Magdalene shrugged her
shoulders, studied Mary's
knee where a spot of flesh
showed through a hole in
the black school stockings.
She wanted to move closer,
kiss the cheek, place her
lips on the skin. She breathed
in the borrowed scent that
Mary wore. Said she'd liberated
it from her Ma's room. Mary
talked of the boy they'd met
in the woods above the school.
Tried it on so he did, she said,
over the guitars and Lennon's
loud voice. Magdalene wished
she could put her hands where
the boy had tried. I put him
straight, Mary said, kneed him
where his fatherhood might flow.
Mary moved up and down on
the bed in response to the music.
The bedsprings complained.
Magdalene sensed the movement,
took in Mary's behind going up
and down on the bed cover.
Glory be. She wanted to kiss.
Needed the hand to touch Mary's,
the skin to join up with hers.
Downstairs a voice bellowed
to keep the bloody noise down.
Mary sighed and bent down
to turn the knob the thigh
revealed in the skirt's slit,
the spot of flesh through
the hole in the bended knee.
Magdalene captured the image.
Hid it in her memory bank for
later, for bedtime, for the cosy
pretend hold, maybe more if in
her dream she was lucky and bold.
poem by Terry Collett
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Confessing Sins
when guilt is full
there comes a time when we think of
the possibility of confessing our sins,
the usual sins of omissions
more than our sins of commissions,
to a friend perhaps, but you doubt
for he has more sins than you have
and it might as well end
on the reverse, you the listening tree
and he the barking dog,
or perhaps to a religious group but
you shy away because of their number
and you might as well at the end be the
subject of their gossip
in town for a week or so,
and so you become a catholic again
on a Sunday before your parish priest
you kneel down and confess your sins,
and your dismay the priest says,
'
my son these are not sins anymore
under the new doctrines
with an ending, don't worry my boy
you'll do penance just the same
say three our fathers and three hail Mary's
and don't come back
your sins are the same as mine'
what comfort is this, when sins are confessed
to a person on the same misery and guilt as we are.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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From You Fall.
The two catholic priests sat
in the Breakfast Room
off the refectory
in the abbey.
They looked up
when you entered
then continued
their conversation
about Dante
and you poured
yourself a coffee
and a small bowl
of Cornflakes
with a little milk
and sugar.
You sat down
and sipped the coffee.
There were prints
of Michelangelo
on the walls
and a crucifix above
and between
the two doors
that led to the
refectory
where the monks ate
three times a day.
The priests conversed
but said nothing to you.
Their words were uttered
in posh well bred voices.
One said
Few believe in Hell these days
and even fewer in Paradise
and those that do
have vague ideas
gathered from odd books
you find on airport
bookshop shelves.
You listened half heartedly
as they talked.
You wanted to ask
about the place.
Wanted one of them
to hear confession.
Maybe one
to give absolution
and perhaps offer a solution.
You could hear
the footsteps of monks
in the other room
getting their breakfast
of bread and jam
and black French coffee.
One priest laughed.
You never heard the joke.
The other guffawed loudly
in a girlish voice.
And the woman was seen
leaving by the back door
semi dressed and in great distress
the priest continued
And Father Denton
was never the same.
Then they were silent
and stood and smiled
and went their way.
You sat alone in the room.
The Michelangelo prints
reflected the single bulb
hanging above the table.
The Crucified seemed
above it all.
You would find some other
to hear confession.
To give absolution
from your fall.
poem by Terry Collett
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Suite Sister Mary
[ spoken ] dr. x: kill her. thats all you have to do.
Nikki: kill mary?
Dr. x: shes a risk, and get the priest as well.
10 p.m., I feel the rain coming down
My face feels the wet, my mind the storm
Flashing lights as people race to find shelter from the pour
Moving silent, through the streets, theyre mine, theyre mine
Midnite, she sings praises in the hall
To saintly faces hallowed be their names she cant recall
Sister mary, virgin mary, silent with her sin
[ mary: what are you doing out in the rain? ]
She feels me, I can taste her breath when she speaks
[ mary: Ive been waiting for you. come in. ]
Mary, mary just a whore for the underground
They made you pay in guilt for your salvation
Thought you had them fooled? now theyve sent me for you
You know too much for your own good
Dont offer me faith, Ive got all I need here
My faith is growing, growing tight against the seam
What we need is trust, to keep us both alive
Help us make it through the night
[ mary ]
Ive no more want of any faith
Binds my arm and feed my mind
The only peace Ive ever known
Ill close my eyes and you shoot
No mary, listen, youve got to pull your strength from my lips
I pray I feed you well
Your precious cross is gone, it made me wait so long
For what you gave to everyone
The priest is cold and dead on his knees he fed
From my barrel of death, he turned the holy water red
As he died he said thank you
I just watched him bleed
[ mary ]
I feel the flow, the blessed stain
Sweating hands like fire, and flames
Burn my thighs, spread in sacrificial rite
The hallowed altar burns my flesh once more tonight
Mary, sweet lady of pain
Always alone
Blind you search for the truth
I see myself in you, parallel lives
Winding at light-speed through time
No time to rest yet
Weve got to stop his game
Before madness has the final laugh
Too much bloodshed
Were being used and fed
Like rats in experiments
No final outcome here
Only pain and fear
Its followed us both all our lives
Theres one thing left to see
Will it be him or me?
Theres one more candle left to light
[ mary ]
Dont turn your back on my disgrace
The blood of christ cant heal my wounds...so deep
The sins of man are all I taste
Cant spit the memory from my mind
I cant cry anymore
Mary, my lady of pain, always alone
Blind you search for the truth
I see myself in you, parallel lives
Winding at light-speed through time, youre mine
song performed by by Queensryche
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Queen And Priest
When the nights come on
darkness breaks through
say, baby, what you're gonna' do.
Priest of the light
moving away
nothing at all can make him stay
Queen of the dark
is leaving her cage
she's on the way to turn the page
Sleeves all in black
red lips, real hot
she always gets what she wants.
No release for queen and priest,
no guilt no sacrifice
never ending black and white good old days and nights.
The hunter in space
hunting the days
no chance to win whatever way
A sight of relief
and with the morning rain
the day will give you shelter once again
Priest of the light
is ready to start
against the dark the same old fight
Call it the sun
lets call it the moon
the same old game we forgot to soon.
song performed by by Zed Yago
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Bid McCrae
The church was wrapped in darkness save for the alter-light,
And save where near the marble rail six tapers glimmered bright
O’er waxen heavy-scented flowers and coffin plated deep,
Where the good wife, Mary Halloran lay in her last long sleep.
Her life, calm, pure and prosperous, had scarcely known a care;
Four sons, three daughters, she had reared – all sturdy, strong and fair,
All like their parents, kindly, plain and practical-save one
That rare soul, marked for graces high, the young priest - Father John.
His beautiful young face was lit by spirit-light within
A new St. Michael armed against the powers of wrath and sin-
And now he knelt and prayed alone, amid the church’s gloom,
And heard his mother’s well loved voice come from beyond the tomb:
“Oh help me dearest son of mine to-night my soul has known
Our neighbours’ life is twined with ours; we cannot live alone;
My sins, our dear Lord has forgiven, their guilt is purged away,
But yet I cannot enter Heaven, because of Bid McCrae.”
Young Father John thought hard and long, till memory came again,
Of the poor, shiftless outcast, Bid, who dwelt in Padgett’s Lane,
A stone’s throw from his Mother’s yard, the by-word of the street,
Good women turned away in scorn at passing of her feet.
The gentle sisters often strove, with fond solicitude,
To bring to paths of light and peace bid’s wild and reckless brood;
And so, at Constance Halloran’s side, on first communion day,
Knelt little bright eyes Delia, the child of Bid McCrae.
Both pure souls, wrapt in loving awe, before the children’s King,
But ah, the coming, crowding years that swift temptations bring!
While Constance, safe and sheltered bloomed to happy girlhood bright.
Poor erring Delia’s wayward path knew sin’s un-holy blight.
“Blind in my selfish virtue wrapped I passed her all my days,
And god, He judgeth not as we – His ways are not our ways-“
Again his Mothers’ voice he heard, and read its message plain,
And Father John arose and sought the depths of Padgett’s Lane.
There by the dying sinner’s bed, he fought the powers of Hell-
Fought for the storm –tossed mother’s soul, the erring child as well
For kneeling by her mothers’ bed, the lamplight on her hair,
Poor broken-hearted Delia knelt in sorrow and despair.
And strange deep thoughts had Father John-how full of charity!
How rich in golden gleams of good a sinner’s heart can be!
And ere the dawnlight flushed the sky, both had been reconciled-
Shriven and at rest the happy dead, and saved the wayward child.
Next night there came to father John a vision glad and bright:
He saw his gentle mother stand at Heaven’s portal bright,
And as the young priest raised his heart in humble fervent praise
To God, who judgeth not as we - whose ways are not our ways-
The storm-tossed outcast, bid McCrae, all shriven from her sin,
Stood at this saintly woman’s side, and smiled, and led her in.
poem by Alice Guerin Crist
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A Girl Named Fred
Once upon a time not many years ago
a girl named Fred fell in love with a boy named Fran.
Although the names seemed an odd combination
and could easily be confused by people who did not know
that Fred was a girl and Fran was a boy.
They made the perfect couple as everyone agreed
and when their wedding day arrived,
the priest who was standing in
did not know about the names
only that he was marrying a Fred to a Fran.
Turning to Fran he said,
Fred with you take this woman
to be your lawful wedded wife.
Excuse me Father, but I think that should be husband.
The priest looked up a bit dismayed, but just carried on.
Turning to Fred said Fran will you take this man
to be your lawful wedded husband.
Excuse me Father, but I think that should wife.
The priest’ eyes rolled around in his head
very dazed and confused.
The silent sniggers in the congregation began to grow louder
as peels of laughter not bells rang out within the church.
The poor priest was now in utter disarray
and after blessing the rings;
he handed them back the wrong way about.
Then the poor priest red faced said
to whomever I pronounce you man and wife.
Just to make things more riotous
someone switched the Wedding March
to Rock Around The Clock,
which sent the bride and groom bopping down the isle,
and the poor priest he had a nervous breakdown
saying he would never perform
a wedding ceremony again.
He would stick to funerals
as there was only one body involved
and they wouldn’t talk back to him.
poem by David Harris
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Bucket List (To Die A Happy Man)
I keep a list of things to do,
A simple list before I'm through
I have them numbered on both hands
To die a happy man
Sail down the Nile on a barge
Free fall for a mile from the stars
Parachute from an aeroplane
Have coffee with an honest man
Oh, to die a happy man
See Antarctica in spring
Gain the trust of a beautiful woman
Walk the dark side of the moon
Meet a legend of music, craft out a tune
Oh, to die a happy man
Buy a comfortable pair of shoes
See Machu Pichu's views
And drive through Paris unharmed
Oh, to die a happy man
Oh, to die a happy man
I keep a list of things to do,
A simple list before I'm through
I have them numbered on both hands
To die a happy man
poem by Colin Coplin
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I Will Get There
Ohohah
Hey
Yeah
I've been wanderin' 'round in the dark
Been lost somewhere where no light could shine on my heart
I have known a pain so deep
But I know my faith will free me
[Get there] And I'll get through this
[Get there] I'll find my way again
So don't tell me that it's over
'Cause each step just gets me closer
[chorus]
(I will get there) I will get there
(I will get there) I will get there somehow
Cross that river (Cross that river)
Nothing's stoppin' me now
I will get through the night (Oh, yes, I will)
And make it through to the other side
(Get there) Get there
(Get there) Get there
I've been in these chains for so long
I'll break free and I'll be there where I belong
Hold my head up high, I'll stand tall
And I swear this time I won't fall
[Get there] I will do this
[Get there] No matter what it takes
'Cause I know no limitations
And I'll reach my destination, I will get there
[chorus]
I will get there (I will get there)
I will get there (Ooh) somehow (Somehow)
Cross that river (Cross that river)
Nothing's stoppin' me now
I will get through the night
And make it through to the other side
(Ooh, get there) Get there
(Get there) Get there
Well, the night is cold and dark
But somewhere the sun is shining
And I'll feel it shine on me
I'll keep on tryin', I'll keep on tryin'
I will get there (I will get there)
I will get there somehow
Cross that river (Cross that river)
Nothing's stoppin' me now
I will get through the night
And make it through to the other side
Get there, get there
I will get there (I will get there)
I will get there somehow (Somehow)
Cross that river (I'll cross that river for you)
Nothing's stoppin' me now (OhwhoaI)
I will get through (Through) the night
And make it through to the other side (Ohhoohho)
(Get there) Get there
(Ooh, get there) Get there (Whoaoh)
I will get there (I will get there)
I will get there somehow (Somehow)
Cross that river (I'll cross it for your love)
Nothing's stoppin' me now (No matter what)
I will get through the night (I will get through the night)
And make it through to the other side
(Get there) Get there
(Ooh, get there) Get there
Get there
Ohhooh
I'll get there
song performed by by Boyz II Men
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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You Came Out Of Nowhere
I thought I heard a sound
Somebody calling out to me
So I turned around
Strangers as far as I could see
Drifting through this crowd
Barely awake form last nights dream
I call your name out loud
I never thought youd answer
You came out of nowhere baby
Just when I felt like giving up
Do you know where Ive been searching
Everywhere this side of reality
This side of eternity
Whyd you take so long
Man I thought youd never get here
I waited for the dawn
Never finding you was my one fear
Its dark before its light
And just when you cant believe your eyes
Morning breaks bright and the storm is over
You came out of nowhere baby
Just when I felt like giving up
Do you know where Ive been searching
Everywhere this side of reality
This side of eternity
You came out of nowhere baby
Just when I thought it was all too much
Do you know where Ive been searching
Everywhere this side of reality
This side of eternity
It might have rained for the rest of my life
But you came along
It could have been pain for all of these nights
But you came to stay
You came out of nowhere baby
Just when I felt like giving up
Do you know where Ive been searching
Everywhere this side of reality
This side of eternity
song performed by by Belinda Carlisle
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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One Afternnon that Summer.
Despite the fact
that other local kids
were in the hay barn playing
Jane stood at the barn doors
looking in apprehensively
and you stood beside her
waiting for her to move in
or say something
but she just stood looking in
are we allowed in to play?
she asked
sure as long as we don't
cause damage to the hay bales
you replied
and she sniffed the air
and moved in
and looked around
the huge barn
with its semi dark
and smells of hay
and captured sun
and warmth
the other kids played
but took no notice
of Jane or you
as you entered
closed the doors
and moved around
the hay strewn floor
haven't you been
in a hay barn before?
you asked looking
at her bright summer dress
and white socks and sandals
yes years ago
she said
as she paused
at the edge
of the nearest hay bale
and sat down
and you sat beside her
in the semi dark
with sunlight making
small light through cracks
and holes in the walls
I don't like mice and rats
she said
and I saw one once
in another barn
and it frightened me
you sat in silence
for a few moments
taking in the air and smells
and then the other kids
ran off out side
into the sunlight
talking of playing
down by the pond
and catching things
you sat still
until their voices died off
and then she said
why have you
brought me in here?
you looked at her eyes
in the dull light
and her lips moving
with their small speech
to be alone with you
without prying eyes
you said
oh I see
she replied
and stood up
and climbed upwards
on the hay bales
with you following
behind her
seeing her sway
as she moved
her hands pulling
her upwards
her legs taking each step
onto a hay bale carefully
then having reach
high up in the barn
she sat down
and you sat beside her
if my father saw me here
he'd think things
Jane said
and she looked at you
with her large eyes
what things? you asked
watching her lay back
with her hands
behind her head
I don't know
he never said
she muttered
as she lay there
she lifted a leg
and her dress
slipped downwards
revealing a glimpse
of naked thigh
that's parents for you
you uttered
never saying
what they think
or saying things
but don't explain
you lay down
beside her
on the hay
as outside the barn
the soft sound
of pitter patter
on the roof
of sudden rain.
poem by Terry Collett
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On His Father's Side
On his mother’s side
Born in Bethlehem
On his Father’s side
No one before him
On his mother’s side
Growing and learning
On his Father’s side
All knowledge showing
On his mother’s side
Stuck in one location
On his Father’s side
Present in every nation
On his mother’s side
He was hungry
On his Father’s side
The multitudes he did feed
On his mother’s side
At Calvary he died
On his Father’s side
He was the essence of life
On his mother’s side
Buried like other men
On his Father’s side
He rose again
On his mother’s side
Human and weak
On his Father’s side
The God of eternity.
poem by Joses Tirtabudi
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The Second Coming
The second coming has been postponed
By a million years.
Christ has his own reasons.
A priest addresses a mass
All weep for a while.
The second coming has been a Hope.
The Vatican releases the new list of sins
And the filthy rich start rotting in the hell of anticipations.
Then comes the message from the Almighty:
'My son is coming late by a million years'.
The Vatican falls into a gloom of woes.
The Second Coming has been a Dream
And why have Christ and his father done it?
A priest reads out from the Bible:
'Thy Kingdom come'.
The Second Coming has been a Manifesto.
poem by M.d Dinesh Nair
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Access To God
I speak to The Father every day, through one very Glorious Way,
A way provided for you and me, to speak to the God of Eternity.
I speak to Him only through one, the Father’s only begotten Son,
Christ gained access for His own, directly to His Father’s Throne.
I have access to His Throne of Grace, at all times from any place,
An access never denied to those, who truly believe His Son rose.
A religious support, I have none, as I go through God’s Own Son,
Christ, who is my High Priest, handling concern without the yeast.
As my High Priest He intercedes, with His Father for all my needs,
Christ’s our High Priest forever, reigning with a Righteous Scepter.
Of our needs, He knows everything, ruling also as Sovereign King,
The Lamb of Glory, now Glorified, is reigning by The Father’s side.
Knowing all that Christ endured, He is our friend, not just our Lord,
Completing for all the final sacrifice; paying in full sin’s total price.
Now seated at The Father’s side, is the One who sinners crucified,
Redeeming all the world, that day, as His Father, had turned away.
God turned as Christ bore the sin, that was not at all a part of Him,
But, He bore our sin and our grief, to bring to all men Divine relief,
And changes Christ has wrought, in the hearts of those He bought,
Through all of the humble prayers, to a loving God who truly cares.
(Copyright ©12/2007)
What Matilda Said
Matilda closed the door. Matilda
Saw Millie by the window. Her maid’s
Uniform looked tight at the rear. She
Wanted to place her arms around her
Waist, kiss her neck. Millie turned and
Said, He’s out there with Mrs Dimmable.
Matilda walked to the window and stared.
She sensed Millie beside her; heard her
Breathing, the brush of her sleeve against
Her arm. Looks happy enough, Matilda said
Of Mrs. Dimmable. You didn’t sleep too well
Last night, Millie said, turning, going to the
Bed. She pulled back the covers, smoothed
Out the sheet. Matilda went around the other
Side of the bed and looked at Millie. You were
Tossing and turning, Millie said looking up.
Matilda helped make the bed and said, Sorry
About that. Millie stared at Matilda and said
You murmured words. Did I? Matilda replied.
Yes, Millie said, looking at her hands. What did
I say? Matilda asked. You muttered my name.
Millie stood back from the bed, gazed at Matilda.
You said things. What things? Said you loved me.
Millie blushed at the words. Matilda patted the
Pillow but said nothing. She brushed her hands
Over the covers, pushed away creases. She paused.
Looked at the window. Smelt the flowers in a vase.
Do you? Millie asked. Love me? Matilda stared
Out at Mrs Dimmable and the new gardener.
Her lips wanted to move but nothing came.
Her eyes watered. The world was awash. Millie
Walked to the window, put her arms around Matilda’s
Waist, her fingers formed a knot on Matilda’s stomach.
Matilda placed her hands over Millie’s.
They do look in love and contented don’t they?
Millie said over Matilda’s shoulder. Matilda’s sensed
The warm breath. Yes, she said, they do. Do you?
Millie’s breath uttered softly into her ear, yes.
poem by Terry Collett
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Watcher on the Tower
I
The Voice of a Man
WHAT of the Night, O Watcher?
The Voice of a Woman
Yea, what of it?
The Watcher
A star has risen; and a wind blows strong.
Voice of the Man
The Night is dark.
The Watcher
But God is there above it.
Voice of the Woman
The Night is dark; the Night is dark and long.
II
Voice of the Man
What of the Night, O Watcher?
Voice of the Woman
Night of sorrow!
The Watcher
Out of the East there comes a sound, like song.
Voice of the Man
The Night is dark.
The Watcher
Have courage! There’s To-morrow!
Voice of the Woman
The Night is dark; the Night is dark and long.
III
Voice of the Man
What of the Night, O Watcher?
Voice of the Woman
Is it other?
The Watcher
I see a gleam; a thorn of light; a thong.
Voice of the Man
The Night is dark.
The Watcher
The Morning comes, my Brother.
Voice of the Woman
The Night is dark; the Night is dark and long.
IV
Voice of the Man
What now, what now, O Watcher?
The Watcher
Red as slaughter
The Darkness dies. The Light comes swift and strong.
Voice of the Man
The Night was long.—What sayest thou, my Daughter?
Voice of the Woman
The Night was dark; the Night was dark and long.
poem by Madison Julius Cawein
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Ballad of Father Gilligan
The old priest Peter Gilligan
Was weary night and day
For half his flock were in their beds
Or under green sods lay.
Once, while he nodded in a chair
At the moth-hour of the eve
Another poor man sent for him,
And he began to grieve.
'I have no rest, nor joy, nor peace,
For people die and die;
And after cried he, 'God forgive!
My body spake not I!'
He knelt, and leaning on the chair
He prayed and fell asleep;
And the moth-hour went from the fields,
And stars began to peep.
They slowly into millions grew,
And leaves shook in the wind
And God covered the world with shade
And whispered to mankind.
Upon the time of sparrow chirp
When the moths came once more,
The old priest Peter Gilligan
Stood upright on the floor.
'Mavrone, mavrone! The man has died
While I slept in the chair.'
He roused his horse out of its sleep
And rode with little care.
He rode now as he never rode,
By rocky lane and fen;
The sick man's wife opened the door,
'Father! you come again!'
'And is the poor man dead?' he cried
'He died an hour ago.'
The old priest Peter Gilligan
In grief swayed to and fro.
'When you were gone, he turned and died,
As merry as a bird.'
The old priest Peter Gilligan
He knelt him at that word.
'He Who hath made the night of stars
For souls who tire and bleed,
Sent one of this great angels down,
To help me in my need.
'He Who is wrapped in purple robes,
With planets in His care
Had pity on the least of things
Asleep upon a chair.'
poem by William Butler Yeats
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Mambo No. 5
Mambo No. 5 (A Little Bit Of ...)
Ladies and gentlemen, this is Mambo No 5
One, two , three four, five
everybody in the car so come on let's ride
To the liqueur-store around the corner,
the boys say they want some gin and juice
but I really don't wanna
beerbust like I had last week
I must stay deep 'cause talk is a cheap
I like Angela, Pamela, Sandra and Rita
and as I continue you know they're gettin' sweeter
so what can I do I really beg you my Lord
to me flirtin' it's just like a sport
anything fly it's all good let me dump it
please set in the trumpet
a little bit of Monica in my life
a little bit of Erica by my side
a little bit of Rita is all I need
a little bit of Tina is what I see
a little bit of Sandra in the sun
a little bit of Mary all night long
a little bit of Jessica here I am
a little bit of you makes me your man
jump up and down and move it all around
shake your head to the sound put your hands an the ground
take one step left and one step right
one to the front and one to the side
clap your hands once and clap your hands twice
and if it looks like this then you doin' it right
a little bit of Monica in my life
a little bit of Erica by my side
a little bit of Rita is all I need
a little bit of Tina is what I see
a little bit of Sandra in the sun
a little bit of Mary all night long
a little bit of Jessica here I am
a little bit of you makes me your man
Trumpet, the Trumpet!
Mambo No 5
a little bit of Monica in my life
a little bit of Erica by my side
a little bit of Rita is all I need
a little bit of Tina is what I see
a little bit of Sandra in the sun
a little bit of Mary all night long
a little bit of Jessica here I am
a little bit of you makes me your man
I do all to fall in love with a girl like you
You can't run and you can't hide you and me gonna touch the sky
song performed by by Lou Bega
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sonnets of the boy who drew cats
I
A long time ago
when soldiers still carried spears and swords
a Japanese farmer and his wife,
had a string of children
and everyone got a task.
They milked cows, cared after pigs,
gathered chicken eggs
and ploughed the soil,
planted rice, wheat and oats,
but the youngest was too weak and small
to do any work
and time and again he neglected his duties
and disappeared
and drew cats.
II
The farmer scratched his head
and did not know what to do
with a child that disappears
and couldn’t complete a task and drew
big and small, white, black, ginger and pied cats
of each size and type.
So the farmer and his wife reckoned
to take the child to the nearest temple
to become a priest
and the farmer tied his sword around his side,
loaded the child on a horse
saddled his own horse
and maybe the men of God
would learn the child about duties.
III
The child studied well
but nobody could stop him
from drawing cats everywhere
and it happened
that the priest thought
that he couldn’t
become a priest and rather
be an artist.
The child was sent
to a temple farther away
and the priest instructed him
to avoid big places at night
and to find a sleeping place
in a small place.
IV
The temple was abandoned
because a evil goblin
coming from the dark earth,
expelled the priests
and the soldiers
that went to face him
had all disappeared.
At night a light burned
in the temple
and when the boy arrived
he went in and everywhere
that he found a white screen he painted a cat
and he remembered the words of the old priest
and went to sleep in a small cabinet.
V
That night he heard a big noise
of a great fight
and cats roaring like lions
growling angrily
while something tried to
smash and pierce them
and he heard them
ripping something to pieces.
The next morning
a goblin
with the head of a rat,
with a pronged whip and sword in his hands
was dead in the middle of the temple
where he lost the fight.
VI
l’Envoi
There was still wet blood
on the mouths of the cats
painted
on the screens
and they looked innocent
and vulnerable.
When the priests returned
they immediately saw
what happened
and they declared
boy a hero
and later he was renown
as a painter
that only paints cats.
[Reference: With thanks to “Japanese Fairy Tales, The boy who drew cats” by Lafcadio Hearn that gave me the idea of this poem.]
poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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