Still Nights

13263880_10153733417448348_3162395682830001133_n

 

You called away from home, those serene nights of longing. You wanted to see me, those dead nights, like Michael Furey’s love. How we dreamt, how we gripped each other were tastes for our tongues. My fiction in solitude is when you held every piece of me like hardened throbs. You were succulent in my heart and in my womb. My memory can never delete you, because from the dark hole, you saved me. Your love sufficed. I still love you.

 

/rosevoc

ASS

Ass
By Sandra Cisneros
for David

My Michelangelo!
What Bernini could compare?
Could the Borghese estate compete?
Could the Medici’s famed aesthete
produce as excellent and sweet
as this famous derriere.

Did I say derriere?
Derriere too dainty,
Buttocks much too bawdy,
Cheeks so childishly petite,
Buns, impudently funny,
Rear end smacking of collusion.

Ah misnomered beauty,
Long suffering
butt of jokes,
object of derision,
pomegranate and apple
hath not such tempting
allure to me
as your hypnotic
anatomy.

Then
am I victim
of your spell,
bound since mine eyes
did first espy
that paradise of symmetry.

And like Pygmalion transfixed,
who sincere believed
desire could unfix
that alabaster chastity,
grieved the enchantment
of those small cruel hips –
those hard twin bones –
that house such enormous
happiness.

http://poetrypill.blogspot.com/2010/01/ass.html

On August 13, 2016. Dear God

 

680238685_1500122

DAILY PRAYER

Dear God,

I kneel down in front of you;
lay down my cares before you.
I need you to be with me now.
Heal my brokenness
Renew my strength
Lift me up like a child,
that I would find joy and boldness
all the days of my life.
Amen.

Glory be to the Father, to the Son and to the Holy Spirit
As it was in the beginning, now, and will be forever.
Amen.

/rosevoc. 08122016

Maybe

Maybe

Today is a question mark day.

Dear Love,

Today is a question mark day; maybe a boring day because right in front of me are only walls and outside are trees that don’t talk, but only sway and never tire of smiling at me. Thank you for the trees.

Maybe I have to cut the iron bars that only make me see a limited space and roll me to and fro like a ball just locked in here. I keep on analyzing, but couldn’t exact an equation of this dilemma of nothing follows, but a view of a garage full of cars and no life beating in zeal. Not about zombies, I’m talking about, but compatibility of goals and some kind of matter that rubs to ignite fire.

How are you today? I’ve been thinking of studying clouds and how I could draw smiley icons on it and write love letters above. Tell me how to do it; just so we could play hangman or any word game and be happy even if we’re oceans apart and we keep missing each other.

Do the trees in your place smile, too? Are they funny like clouds of numbers on forests and clouds of ice cream in shades of pink and yellow? How about violet leaves and petals?

Are you busy? I am not. What I do now is just stare and think of what I’m going to dust and read tomorrow. Yes, time is gold so I am writing you.

Be happy as I plead… Always, you are in my heart, even in days of questions, in days of exultation, and in all the days of my life.

And so… we let God.

Smile,
Rosevoc2

/also on poemhunter.com

Canticle of the Sun

by Francis of Assisi

Detail, fresco c.1278 in Basilica San Francesco, Assisi,
by Cenni di Pepo (called Cimabue), c. 1240-1302
photograph © Bill Barrett

Most high, all powerful, all good Lord! All praise is yours, all glory, all honor, and all blessing. To you, alone, Most High, do they belong. No mortal lips are worthy to pronounce your name.

Be praised, my Lord, through all your creatures, especially through my lord Brother Sun, who brings the day; and you give light through him. And he is beautiful and radiant in all his splendor! Of you, Most High, he bears the likeness.

Be praised, my Lord, through Sister Moon and the stars; in the heavens you have made them, precious and beautiful.

Be praised, my Lord, through Brothers Wind and Air, and clouds and storms, and all the weather, through which you give your creatures sustenance.

Be praised, My Lord, through Sister Water; she is very useful, and humble, and precious, and pure.

Be praised, my Lord, through Brother Fire, through whom you brighten the night. He is beautiful and cheerful, and powerful and strong.

Be praised, my Lord, through our sister Mother Earth, who feeds us and rules us, and produces various fruits with colored flowers and herbs.

Be praised, my Lord, through those who forgive for love of you; through those who endure sickness and trial. Happy those who endure in peace, for by you, Most High, they will be crowned.

Be praised, my Lord, through our Sister Bodily Death, from whose embrace no living person can escape. Woe to those who die in mortal sin! Happy those she finds doing your most holy will. The second death can do no harm to them.

Praise and bless my Lord, and give thanks, and serve him with great humility.

(translated by Bill Barrett from the Umbrian text of the Assisi codex.)

Return to Art & Politics

http://www2.webster.edu/~barrettb/canticle.htm

Praise