In the quest
for a rhyme
Grace
just in time.
In the blink
of an eye
Grace
showing why.
In the beat
of a heart
Grace
from the start.
In the search
for a soul
Grace
makes it whole.
In the blush
of a cheek
Grace
for the weak.
In the face
of a fall
Grace
to the call.
In the gift
of the gods
Grace
against odds.
(Read my short story The Memory Girl at litro.co.uk, click on Stories.)
A Canadian writer living in Blackheath, London, UK, sorts out the world of politics, religion and the arts in prose and verse, sometimes with tongue firmly in cheek.
Wednesday, 29 December 2010
Monday, 20 December 2010
Shroud
Wash the city
from an ancient face.
Unveil the skin,
the state of grace.
Keep Veronica's
blood-stained lace.
Hold a miracle
in heaven's place.
Taste the sinner's
holy embrace.
Wash the city
from an ancient face.
(Read my short story The Memory Girl published by Litro magazine, an international literary publication, at litro.co.uk, click on Stories.)
from an ancient face.
Unveil the skin,
the state of grace.
Keep Veronica's
blood-stained lace.
Hold a miracle
in heaven's place.
Taste the sinner's
holy embrace.
Wash the city
from an ancient face.
(Read my short story The Memory Girl published by Litro magazine, an international literary publication, at litro.co.uk, click on Stories.)
Monday, 13 December 2010
Seduction
Children echo in our hearts
name, age, country,
birthed for slaughter...
Now flickering candles
in a hall
of horrors...
Your tears
for one beloved
nourish Tikva streets...
We wander
Jerusalem's ancient
bloody alleyways...
I am humming
Leonard's raincoat song,
you wonder what he thinks...
We wail at separate walls
with scribbled papers,
bobbing holy men...
Nearby, Jesus pilgrims
kiss his holy stone
trying to recuscitate God...
Sweet soldiers watch,
rucksacks sagging,
rifles half-cocked...
Flying out
of the soulless airport
I plan to seduce you...
Using Dead Sea ointment
You bought for me
To massage your feet...
We embrace the night
but no amount of fucking
brings the children back...
(Please read my short story, The Memory Girl, published by the international literary magazine, Litro, Litro.co.uk, click on Stories.)
name, age, country,
birthed for slaughter...
Now flickering candles
in a hall
of horrors...
Your tears
for one beloved
nourish Tikva streets...
We wander
Jerusalem's ancient
bloody alleyways...
I am humming
Leonard's raincoat song,
you wonder what he thinks...
We wail at separate walls
with scribbled papers,
bobbing holy men...
Nearby, Jesus pilgrims
kiss his holy stone
trying to recuscitate God...
Sweet soldiers watch,
rucksacks sagging,
rifles half-cocked...
Flying out
of the soulless airport
I plan to seduce you...
Using Dead Sea ointment
You bought for me
To massage your feet...
We embrace the night
but no amount of fucking
brings the children back...
(Please read my short story, The Memory Girl, published by the international literary magazine, Litro, Litro.co.uk, click on Stories.)
Monday, 6 December 2010
Memories
She sits before me
Strong, silent, sullen,
A Rock
Woman
She is beautiful
Drawing in
Frightening off
Enigmatic
Her head stretches back
Her neck straining
Toward the past
Remembering
Ghosts of pain
Veils of mystery
Wisps of joy
Hers
Dark eyes
Dead ahead
Capture me
Here
Her memories,
Neither alive nor dead,
Carry forward
Today
And today
And...
(Please read my short story The Memory Girl on the on the web site of the international literary magazine, Litro (litro.co.uk, click on Stories)
Strong, silent, sullen,
A Rock
Woman
She is beautiful
Drawing in
Frightening off
Enigmatic
Her head stretches back
Her neck straining
Toward the past
Remembering
Ghosts of pain
Veils of mystery
Wisps of joy
Hers
Dark eyes
Dead ahead
Capture me
Here
Her memories,
Neither alive nor dead,
Carry forward
Today
And today
And...
(Please read my short story The Memory Girl on the on the web site of the international literary magazine, Litro (litro.co.uk, click on Stories)
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