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Category Archives: Sisters

An Elders Love

Aug. 28th, 2020: Quar   

       I am not a keeper of records or memories. Nor, of cream and curds mixed with fantasy and the absurd. As if… it is like yesterday or yester-year! I never know today or the future clear.

       There is a presence in the keeper’s mind of your absence; in the “tock” of time or the “tick” of our heartbeat that brings us closer, in each disappearing day.

 the rose is a scent

that wants to be remembered

knowledge understood

 

Aug. 29th, 2020: Quar

 

  There are storms and floods

covering the shallows

disparaging the un-holy;

 while the righteous soil

absorbs the water.  

And emerges as just another flower,

in the garden.

During these times:

       We are looking for monks, brothers, and sisters who live, eat, and teach in our neighborhoods.

       Instead we find a High Order of Holy Administrations that accepts, for the propagation of our core beliefs in each other, Alms… that prop up ancient Architectural structures to modern day Mansions; that feast in its symbolic understanding. Accepting tidings and spending them as a profit from a ticket purchased to Paradise, Angels, and reconciliation and if you double your offer, they’ll include free shipping.. Some admit it’s a raffle; 1st. place, Heaven. 2nd. place, Purgatory, 3rd. place Hell. 4th. Place, stay alive and pay twice.

       We are looking for the monks, brothers, and sisters who live, eat, and teach in our neighborhoods. That understands the Holy spiritual path to community without compensation or lack of dogmatic male compliance.

it’s a cloudy day

winds are changing tomorrow

sun not far behind

 
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Posted by on August 30, 2020 in Existential, Experimental, Haibun Poetry, Haiku, Reason, Sisters, Zen

 

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Bobby, Michelle, and Priscilla [A Mid-1950’s Tale]    

 

 Lightning in a thunderstorm flashing —streaking through the sky.

Hidden in shadows —frightened by the glow;

Richard ran home in darkened skies

before the thunder —could shake the ground.

 

Quickly finding a door unlocked, he opened it.

Kerosene cook stove glowing; he took his seat at the table with a sigh

—finding himself, not alone, with baby Bobby

and his older sisters, Michelle and Priscilla inside.

(this day after 5 yrs. having been separated by age and gender, we left together from St. Peter’s Orphanage, holding each other’s hands, knowing this is, are only home)

 
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Posted by on May 3, 2018 in Friendship, Life, Love, Sisters

 

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