Creaturely Rumination

Saturday Symphony

Jude’s Saturday Symphony #8 in which Jude poses the following question: What animal do you most relate to or admire, and why?  Fandango’s #FOWC: “covered”

 

Creaturely Rumination

So you want to know what animal I admire?

This of my ponderous thoughts you require

And, my friend, I’ll acquiesce to your request,

I’ve got you covered!  My answer, no jest,

Thus plainly is: the creature meriting such love

Must be as wise as a snake and harmless as a dove.

 

Aha, you say! That’s two creatures, not one!

But appearances deceive, especially those human,

And under one skin can reside two creatures:

Two snakes, two doves, doubles in their features

Twice wise and as deadly or twice haplessly unwary

Equally alarming as their fortunes they miscarry.

 

Think now of a creature, a lamb or a dove, so harmless, so mild

But wise, like a snake, and knowing, a man, woman, or child;

One creature who is heeding the law of love from its Author

And the same creature undeceived by the world’s favor or disfavor.

Such a God-fearing creature – oh, could it be you? Could it be me? –

Is the freest of the free, at peace, my friend, with God eternally.


“Behold, I am sending you out as sheep in the midst of wolves, so be wise as serpents and innocent as doves.” (Matt. 10: 16, ESV)

Dance Convergence

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Immense and free 

The wind beneath me
Jouissance

 of gravity
A new life convergence
Soaring with the water
An overflowing hope

To carry the air

Unbounded by fear
Released by Your grace
Breathing eternity

Love's radiant beauty

Dancing in me.


Photo by Joel Valve (Unsplash) for Sadje's What Do you See (For the visually challenged reader,the image shows a girl dancing under the jets of water of a fountain, which are meeting above her in an arc.)

Green is the Color of My Stonecrop’s Leaves

Green is the color of my stonecrop’s leaves

And leaves are the petals of its flowers.

The sun on my stonecrop shines fairest

Whilst summer roses fall by and by;

Its rose-bloom leaves gleam like emeralds

With a fire that will never die.

If I give you an emerald rose, dear,

As a promise my love will stay green,

Tell me weathered years will never dim

The love light in your eyes;

Else I shall be like a twice-doomed rose

That falls to the ground and dies.

Dora A. K.

The Dark Jinn of Moloch


Nekneeraj’s Photo Challenge #327; Photo by Paul Theodor Oja on Pexels.com

He set himself free, the dark jinn of Moloch.

The year was 2020. The mood was erratic.

They blamed it on the Orange Can, and then a lab’s contagion.

The daily murder of the unborn remained unheeded.

No one saw his face. No one knew his name.

The dark jinn was loose, but he was no man.

He had come to stay. It would be written as his day.

To watch the world burn came the jinn of Moloch.

Yon Monkey Speaks

Written for Sadje’s What Do You See picture prompt,
a response in monkey-ese.

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Image credit- Lewis Roberts- Unsplash

Swishy-tailey, me peek, silly she,
The mugwump bare-skin two-peddy.
Why she not eating
Why she just waving
Oh-boy yellow-sweety thing to me?
Coo-Mummy say, me thinky much.
Growly-tummy say, why fussy much?
“Silly two-peddy she, God bless-bless to you.”
Swishy-tailey, yellow-sweety, woo-hoo!
Yum.🍌

Saturday Symphony #4

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Jude’s Ponderous Thought this week:

THE MUSIC OF MY SOUL

~Write about your favourite musical instrument(s) and the things it/they make you feel~

The first drawn note says she’s a player. It may be a fiddle or a violin.

She either makes you hold your breath or draw it in.

Stings your brain with brandywine or stretches your heart till nothing’s outside it.

Classical is like geometric chemistry, lovers’ hands touching.

Bluegrass frees your feet to where the stars are spinning.

I take my pick. It’s gotta be strings. 

The Trap

Image credit; 五玄土 ORIENTO – Unsplash

See the sepulchral ash, the sulphuric fume

See the primed portals set for me and you

See the smoke, the tea, the burnt residue

Just six more guests to speedily consume

Don’t fret, not yet

Never fear, my dear,

There’s not a shortage of fools in Bara-Du.


Written for Sadje’s What Do You See picture prompt, product of an eerily terrifying image combined with insomnia .

The Pantry Mouse and Me

Sadje asks:

 

The mouse speaks

I’m in your pantry and I can’t get out

Every jar is sealed and it makes me pout

This isn’t fair, as my notes point out,

So get in here and let me out!

Well, you might wonder what happened to the little pantry mouse. She escaped the broom by a whisker and her cute selfie (don’t ask me how) was copied and pasted all over the internet! Then she found on revisiting the scene of her imprisonment, for another selfie, that someone had left a crumb of cheese with this note attached:

ME —

I see your tale’s been spread about

Scared you were I have no doubt

But just to show that I’m no lout

Take this cheese & then stay out!

On Easter

Easter steals between the clouds
To waken weary hearts
From the sorrows of the night
Into glorious morn.

The light falls pale on frozen time
That on a graveside dwells;
The warmth it casts cannot be felt
Until the stillness breaks.

Death quakes to hear the voice of One
Who forever broke its chains
Rising o’er the sleeping world
And one whose heart is torn.

Eternal light throws back the shroud
And grief gives way to joy
As turning we greet the risen King
And hope where there was none.

In a Dark Hour

ezekiels-vision-of-the-valley-of-dry-bones-what-does-it-mean_0

3 A.M.

Awakened to an eerie self-examination of the soul
on the steel-cold surface under surgically precise lights
unentombing cancers, contagion-carrying arteries, dismembered
corruption to the dispassionate gaze of an Enemy brooding,
brooding.

3:20 A.M.

Still sweating under the administered fumes seeping
through pores, guilt-driven language of parents driven
from home to carnage of children preying on children, warfare
of wretched depravity in the eyes of a man, a woman seething,
seething.

3:40 A.M.

Cannot speak, cannot hear, cannot see, cannot feel anything
but the weight of irreversible fate, the darts of the Enemy
injections of delirious oblivion only to awaken to endless night
where no refuge lies from grief and fear and the hate pursuing,
pursuing.

4:00 A.M.

Helpless, my tongue dry, the light dims, darkness closes in,
but a voice is heard, a minister to prophesy over the bitter
collocation of bones, unholy, “O dry bones, hear the word of the LORD!”-
prophesy!- in the body and the blood a Life that is not mine breathes,
breathes.

DailyPostPrompt: eerie