Submissions by bwilde
POEMS AND SHORT STORIES
Poet Introduction
Prefer to write prose. I read Gilbert, Clive, Ronald, Reuel, and Thomas. I read Neruda. I seek solemnity, quietude, epiphanies, and the eucatastrophe. Married to the girl of my dreams.
SPIRITUAL POEM
Published
27th Mar 2015 5:30pm
27th Mar 2015 5:30pm
Piety, Providence, and the Prescient Holy Ghost
He had doubted the mythic miracle and wondered, (sometimes aloud) about the angelic,
about translocation and transfiguration, piety, providence, and the prescient Holy Ghost.
The story, well known, the tradition well established, and the truth was plain to see.
He found he was somewhere on the Erythraean Malabar Coast
on that bright morning.
He now had time to think and pray-In nomine Patris et Filii et Spiritus Sancti
and that mattered most.
“Hail Mary full of grace…” kneeling and giving thanks on that incandescent...
about translocation and transfiguration, piety, providence, and the prescient Holy Ghost.
The story, well known, the tradition well established, and the truth was plain to see.
He found he was somewhere on the Erythraean Malabar Coast
on that bright morning.
He now had time to think and pray-In nomine Patris et Filii et Spiritus Sancti
and that mattered most.
“Hail Mary full of grace…” kneeling and giving thanks on that incandescent...
565 reads
0 Comments
UPBEAT INSPIRATIONAL POEM
Published
26th Mar 2015 6:50pm
26th Mar 2015 6:50pm
I still believe rumors of the Assumption (a paradelle)
I still believe the Blue Planet on the opposite side of the sun.
I still believe the Blue Planet on the opposite side of the sun.
Grey blends nicely with fiery blazing.
Grey blends nicely with fiery blazing.
The fiery sun nicely blends with grey I believe,
still blazing on the opposite side of the blue planet.
I can infer liturgical practice and observance.
I can infer liturgical practice and observance.
Oh to see, even for one moment through her clear eyes.
Oh to see, even for one moment through her clear eyes.
Practice liturgical observance for...
I still believe the Blue Planet on the opposite side of the sun.
Grey blends nicely with fiery blazing.
Grey blends nicely with fiery blazing.
The fiery sun nicely blends with grey I believe,
still blazing on the opposite side of the blue planet.
I can infer liturgical practice and observance.
I can infer liturgical practice and observance.
Oh to see, even for one moment through her clear eyes.
Oh to see, even for one moment through her clear eyes.
Practice liturgical observance for...
557 reads
1 Comment
UPBEAT INSPIRATIONAL POEM
Published
26th Mar 2015 2:28pm
26th Mar 2015 2:28pm
Wise men glimpse the gleaming horizon (a paradelle)
Wise men looked to the stars for signs, and deathly feared dark eclipses.
Wise men looked to the stars for signs, and deathly feared dark eclipses.
Even Saint Thomas doubted Truth once, the Real Presence.
Even Saint Thomas doubted Truth once, the Real Presence.
Saint Thomas feared dark eclipses, looked to the Real Presence for stars,
and even the Wise men once deathly doubted Truth signs.
Wise men also followed a star by night and brought gifts and worshipped.
Wise men also followed a star by night and brought gifts and worshipped.
But Mary the Mother of...
Wise men looked to the stars for signs, and deathly feared dark eclipses.
Even Saint Thomas doubted Truth once, the Real Presence.
Even Saint Thomas doubted Truth once, the Real Presence.
Saint Thomas feared dark eclipses, looked to the Real Presence for stars,
and even the Wise men once deathly doubted Truth signs.
Wise men also followed a star by night and brought gifts and worshipped.
Wise men also followed a star by night and brought gifts and worshipped.
But Mary the Mother of...
693 reads
1 Comment
NON-FICTION PROSE
Published
25th Mar 2015 3:56pm
25th Mar 2015 3:56pm
Anxious quietude in the resolve
Torrential rain and brutal cold would go on for days if not weeks, causing all manner of slush in the city; mud and effluent and flooded intersections, backed up storm drains, and the sea of umbrella carrying pedestrians trying to get around it all. The coat robed and the fingerless gloved hands of the vendors accepted the season in turn. The ever present plastic covered the kioskos and magazine stands so that Time International remained a constant source. And the envious glances as I too joined in the navigation of the to-and-from.
An almost constant odor of diesel, and brakes from...
An almost constant odor of diesel, and brakes from...
706 reads
0 Comments
SPIRITUAL POEM
Published
25th Mar 2015 3:34pm
25th Mar 2015 3:34pm
Intercession
If all is lost, ended and forgiven
is there need of further redemption?
What is there now of reconciliation?
…Except to trust in the miracle. I intercede.
Are you rested, recollected and
where have you hung your hat?
What became of your garden patch
if all is lost, ended and forgiven
Through the many hours spent
on books and learning
did you ever pray or clamor for
any need of further redemption?
Did you drink and laugh too much?
Did you enjoy your time away and
were aspersions cast - or not?
What is...
is there need of further redemption?
What is there now of reconciliation?
…Except to trust in the miracle. I intercede.
Are you rested, recollected and
where have you hung your hat?
What became of your garden patch
if all is lost, ended and forgiven
Through the many hours spent
on books and learning
did you ever pray or clamor for
any need of further redemption?
Did you drink and laugh too much?
Did you enjoy your time away and
were aspersions cast - or not?
What is...
712 reads
5 Comments
FICTIONAL PROSE
Published
24th Mar 2015 8:50pm
24th Mar 2015 8:50pm
In the shadow of the statue of the woman at the well
He always played chess in the shadow of the statue of the woman at the well next to the glow of the coal pot-belly, and it was sound preparation even though he was unaware of it, especially on rainy blustery winter weekend days. He had been playing this game for a long time (ten years?), but he was amateur and it was only pastime. His opponent was his equal in experience, and the competition,friendly. "All good turns", and all that… Unknowing, there were undercurrents of coded signals in every move though, and coded patterns in every win and loss. These moves built the patterns, and...
811 reads
3 Comments
STORY POEM
Published
23rd Mar 2015 5:04pm
23rd Mar 2015 5:04pm
John's Cafe, Mystic, Connecticut, early winter, late '80's
Window booth and bar with the patina and cigarette stains, shots all round.
Another and another and then last call.
Van Morrison on the juke box,
and a Guinness while waiting to sink the eight ball...side pocket.
Smokey eyes, then another long drag,
wool scarf hanging down, coat on the rack.
Slanted snow right outside the door in the holiday bluster, a dimly lit street lamp.
River reflection...boats tied to the dock.
Lively and friendly laughing chatter and banter
before bracing across the bridge for home on the Groton...
Another and another and then last call.
Van Morrison on the juke box,
and a Guinness while waiting to sink the eight ball...side pocket.
Smokey eyes, then another long drag,
wool scarf hanging down, coat on the rack.
Slanted snow right outside the door in the holiday bluster, a dimly lit street lamp.
River reflection...boats tied to the dock.
Lively and friendly laughing chatter and banter
before bracing across the bridge for home on the Groton...
565 reads
2 Comments
NON-FICTION PROSE
Published
23rd Mar 2015 4:24pm
23rd Mar 2015 4:24pm
On The Outside Looking In At Age 30…Revised
The Gypsies would as soon buy a house and then raze it, erect a Gypsy-esque tent in its place and live there in community on the lot; houses on either side, now considerably worth, less. The older women along with the younger women and teenage girl protégés, all with the large silver crucifix, would read the palm for a gamba in the parks and greens; sometimes with the grimy naked five-year-old boy or girl for added sympathy of the unsuspecting.
The younger Gypsy youths pick-pocketed the distracted or the unguarded junior office worker, construction laborer, high school student,...
The younger Gypsy youths pick-pocketed the distracted or the unguarded junior office worker, construction laborer, high school student,...
766 reads
4 Comments
NON-FICTION PROSE
Published
20th Mar 2015 7:53pm
20th Mar 2015 7:53pm
Pax and calm in the transit, now no rain, not bad
Surely these late spring streets were typical for any modern city after a torrent, especially Santiago, what in the bowl-like valley in the west shadow of the Andes, still snow capped; wide straight slate gray avenues and boulevard-rivers, the Gran Avenida, Alemeda, Avenida Providencia, Apoquindo, Vicuña Mackenna, and how many more, the to-and-from separated by the tree-lined grass parks and the park bench, the Parque Forrestal and the Cerro Santa Lucia, and el rio Mapocho. These late spring streets cut through the canyons of the modern, the colonial, and anything from the centuries in...
619 reads
4 Comments
UPBEAT INSPIRATIONAL POEM
Published
20th Mar 2015 6:35pm
20th Mar 2015 6:35pm
There is not now any memory of the bleak, or had a psalm or song ever been sung like this before?
Unrelenting, slate winter chill, abandoned.
Desire the tranquil, sanctity.
Today’s liturgy - Hebrews 12:18-24; Miraculous (Feb 3, 2011)
Relentless, winter cold, gray, despairing.
Need quietude, the solemn.
Today’s liturgy - Psalm 48; Miracle (Feb 3, 2011)
Rain, biting wind, late winter waits the equinox.
Flooding rivers, effluent from the north.
Where is the aurora? Waiting for the calm, warm.
Today’s liturgy - Psalm 1:1-4: Milagro (Mar 10, 2011)
Sol, warm, winter giving way.
First flower and color and mourning dove. Not...
Desire the tranquil, sanctity.
Today’s liturgy - Hebrews 12:18-24; Miraculous (Feb 3, 2011)
Relentless, winter cold, gray, despairing.
Need quietude, the solemn.
Today’s liturgy - Psalm 48; Miracle (Feb 3, 2011)
Rain, biting wind, late winter waits the equinox.
Flooding rivers, effluent from the north.
Where is the aurora? Waiting for the calm, warm.
Today’s liturgy - Psalm 1:1-4: Milagro (Mar 10, 2011)
Sol, warm, winter giving way.
First flower and color and mourning dove. Not...
587 reads
1 Comment
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
18th Mar 2015 8:20pm
18th Mar 2015 8:20pm
An annual memoriam
He too served in the Marine Corps and with no little distinction as it were.
He was in Korea in 1953 at the end of that war, and fired the howitzer.
He talked about it here and there, and I saw the pictures, but he did not brag.
He did a good job so I will brag for him.
He was in Korea in 1953 at the end of that war, and fired the howitzer.
He talked about it here and there, and I saw the pictures, but he did not brag.
He did a good job so I will brag for him.
647 reads
4 Comments
DU Poetry : Submissions by bwilde
