IDOLS


The patience of man
Had over many ages
Given to his own land
Births of many images.

It has made gods
Of so many symbols;
Earthly made rods,
Also celestial balls.

In his long wait
His patience creates
Answers that relate
Only to his state.

The clouds of reason
Cover his horizons;
Make a sky season,
Or mystic masons.

Sight is so deceptive
That it can tilt a view,
Halo any perspective
With inspired preview.

Man looks around
And sees such beauty,
Beyond any he found
Or his own humanity.

In his natural urge
He pays respects to
Visions and courage,
Where honour isnt due.

In his all human way,
He puts faith in those
He comprehendsll stay;
Idolizing his very nose.

Lived Once, Buried Twice

#Copied

After succumbing to a fever of some sort in 1705, Irish woman Margorie McCall was hastily buried to prevent the spread of whatever had done her in. Margorie was buried with a valuable ring, which her husband had been unable to remove due to swelling. This made her an even better target for body snatchers, who could cash in on both the corpse and the ring.

The evening after Margorie was buried, before the soil had even settled, the grave-robbers showed up and started digging. Unable to pry the ring off the finger, they decided to cut the finger off. As soon as blood was drawn, Margorie awoke from her coma, sat straight up and screamed.

The fate of the grave-robbers remains unknown. One story says the men dropped dead on the spot, while another claims they fled and never returned to their chosen profession.

Margorie climbed out of the hole and made her way back to her home.

Her husband John, a doctor, was at home with the children when he heard a knock at the door. He told the children, “If your mother were still alive, I’d swear that was her knock.”

When he opened the door to find his wife standing there, dressed in her burial clothes, blood dripping from her finger but very much alive, he dropped dead to the floor. He was buried in the plot Margorie had vacated.

Margorie went on to re-marry and have several children. When she did finally die, she was returned to Shankill Cemetery in Lurgan, Ireland, where her gravestone still stands. It bears the inscription “Lived Once, Buried Twice.”

#HistoryVille 😱😱😱

BREASTS OF DOOM

tears (1)
O’ home,
I fear I am gone.
If I do return,
Rename me the sun.

O’ my nest,
Born to be the best,
Even when I die of thirst,
My last drop you will have first.

O’ this world,
Spare me a word.
Call me anything,
At least say something.

O’ uncertainty,
You cloud my sanity;
My consciousness you cover,
So do please roll over.

O’ hunger,
A cause for bother.
Those you’ve punished,
Deceived and banished.

O’ misery,
You’re a mystery
That hushes the brave
And starve the grave.

O’ life,
Where is your sight?
Drop the knife
And use some light.

O’ kindness,
Born of happiness;
May your reward be no other
Than your blessed mother.

O’ loneliness,
So many about,
Yet in your meanness
You cast me out.

O’ death,
Why express your might
On good fate
And make its wards the late?

O’ fate
Watch my tears.
Please make me the late
Or show me someone who really cares.

O’ people,
How can you be so simple
Yet so mean,
As if it is no sin?

O’ future,
Come in whatever nature,
Just promise me;
In my place my child you’ll see.

O’ child,
For whom I roam,
Is it youth that is blind
Or I chest breasts of doom?

DOWNLOAD THIS POEM FROM
https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/451309
AA- THE POET IN THE POEM (Cover)
Collection of over 250 poems
https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/451309

BREASTS OF DOOM is also available as a novel
https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/345797
??????????????