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David Autumns
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UK
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Re: Poetry - just poetry ....

these are the birthing pains of change
that deep black ache in your soul
is real
further out as each bell tolls
we
cannot be held within
this darkness forever
hold it tight to your chest-tight-never let it go
The now frozen mulch at your feet will feed
that dream of yours
that dream of yours
will unfold as the leaves unfurl again in spring
this is the promise of the Solstice
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sunfolk
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Super Kiwi Socialistic Empire Of Jacinda
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Re: Poetry - just poetry ....

Eddi's Service

(A.D. 687)

EDDI, priest of St. Wilfrid
In his chapel at Manhood End,
Ordered a midnight service
For such as cared to attend.

But the Saxons were keeping Christmas,
And the night was stormy as well.
Nobody came to service,
Though Eddi rang the bell.

'Wicked weather for walking,'
Said Eddi of Manhood End.
'But I must go on with the service
For such as care to attend.

The altar-lamps were lighted, –
An old marsh-donkey came,
Bold as a guest invited,
And stared at the guttering flame.

The storm beat on at the windows,
The water splashed on the floor,
And a wet, yoke-weary bullock
Pushed in through the open door.

'How do I know what is greatest,
How do I know what is least?
That is My Father's business,'
Said Eddi, Wilfrid's priest.

'But – three are gathered together –
Listen to me and attend.
I bring good news, my brethren!'
Said Eddi of Manhood End.

And he told the Ox of a Manger
And a Stall in Bethlehem,
And he spoke to the Ass of a Rider,
That rode to Jerusalem.

They steamed and dripped in the chancel,
They listened and never stirred,
While, just as though they were Bishops,
Eddi preached them The Word,

Till the gale blew off on the marshes
And the windows showed the day,
And the Ox and the Ass together
Wheeled and clattered away.

And when the Saxons mocked him,
Said Eddi of Manhood End,
'I dare not shut His chapel
On such as care to attend.'


Kipling. Dedicated to the Vicars of Christchurch Cathedral Nelson NZ, especially Renatus. good luck hugs
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sptrog1
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Re: Poetry - just poetry ....

A high schooler’s rebellion at having to write a poem (65 years ago):

Scintillate, scintillate globule vivific
Fain would I fathom thy nature specific
Distantly poised in the ether capacious
Closely resembling a gem carbonaceous.
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