A-theist.a-typical,arboreal.
Who will forever rotate on a wheel?
The circle of life
Repeats without strife.
As motif it becomes what is real.
A-theist.a-typical,arboreal.
Who will forever rotate on a wheel?
The circle of life
Repeats without strife.
As motif it becomes what is real.
I’m agnostic and believe with deep trust
The birth of a saviour is unjust.
For man cannot change
Nor grace be arranged.
We choose to remain ever cursed
Waxy flowers poking through
Snow so white
Flowers bright.
Made me think of you.
I see once more your light brown hair,
Soft as snow,
On pillow.
Now my bed is bleak and bare
,
Face alight,flower to sun,
I loved you.
Love so true.
Fear by love,overcome.
Cyclamen in the snow,
Pink and red,
Now frozen,dead.
Love was,oh,so long ago.
But never gone from in my mind.
Thoughts so deep,
Upwards seep.
Love was gentle,love was kind,
Always in my mind
Too old for cold,I stand, now ,against the hedge,
Watching the snowflakes in the glare of neon street lights.
Darkness has come early,and I think of country uplands and huddled sheep.
On Salisbury Plain,shepherds watched their flocks
Just as in Bethlehem two thousand years before,
And then,exactly when?
“Between the wars”,it stopped. Now we know there is no “Between the wars”.
And who decided
To cull the sheep and shepherds and the space for kindness ?
Now that same Plain still exists,but banned
And closed to human-kind,
For bombs ,not wombs
Nor for birth of lamb ,nor gypsy child ,nor Saviour
Where would He go today
I’m so exceedingly over incorrect
politically;what do you expect?
My kitchen’s not fitted
I don’t want it gutted
I am not going to be one of the Elect
I am not au fait with decor
I have never re- decorated before.
We had a new flat
And a Tottenham tom cat
What woman could ask her husband for more?
It’s Christmas and I am alone
But my husband is visiting this room
I heard his slight cough
And that was enough
I asked him was he worried by my moans?
I am feeling a little unwell
He looked down from heaven and could tell.
So he’s come for a permission
To abide by the decision
God made when my man was so ill.
I told him I have got some new friends
Who read my poems right to the end.
I hope that I amuse
And also bemuse.
As it stops me from going round the bend.
I said he can stay here and watch
As I sew up my skirt with a patch.
The moths were so vicious
They made holes in my knickers.
Yet somehow they still seem to match.
I know he is there by the door;
Because he has been here before.
I don’t turn my head
Because he is dead.
Yet he often-times crosses the floor.
I miss him,I miss him, I do.
How to live on, I don’t have a clue.
I am here writing stories
And studying mores.
So I wish he could polish my shoe.
Strange reciprocity:
The circumstances we cause
In time give rise to us.
Philip Larkin
There’s often a feeling of sadness
In the air in the pre-Xmas madness.
Look up some good books
To kill off your spooks.
Then your heart will be touched by true gladness
http://campus.poetryschool.com/not-the-t-s-eliots-2015-our-best-poetry-books-of-the-year/
There’s a limit to words’ possibilities.
For even those with great capabilities
Beyond the edge of our language
More worlds are sandwiched.
At least that’s what the probablility is
I’m agnostic about others’ existence.
My therapist says it’s my resistance.
If she is separate
I might feel desperate
So I cling onto her with persistance
To tell you the truth I’m an atheist
Possibly one of the craziest
Church services bore me
But incense consoles me
As I doze in my pew,I’m the laziest
agnostic (n.) 1870, “one who professes that the existence of a First Cause and the essential nature of things are not and cannot be known” [Klein]; coined by T.H. Huxley (1825-1895), supposedly in September 1869, from Greek agnostos “unknown, unknowable,” from a- “not” + gnostos “(to be) known” (see gnostic). Sometimes said to be a reference to Paul’s mention of the altar to “the Unknown God,” but according to Huxley it was coined with reference to the early Church movement known as Gnosticism (see Gnostic).
I … invented what I conceived to be the appropriate title of ‘agnostic,’ … antithetic to the ‘Gnostic’ of Church history who professed to know so much about the very things of which I was ignorant. [T.H. Huxley, “Science and Christian Tradition,” 1889]
The adjective is first recorded 1878
I was converted by a brilliant agnostic
but losing my faith was too drastic.
I pined for Lord Jesus
Until I was speechless.
So I tied myself to his soul with elastic.
I was once an outspoken agnostic
My harsh words could sound frightfully caustic
But I saw the light
Turn green in my sight.
So I repaired my own soul with some bostick [glue sold in UK]
The body’s own soul is the face
Which often is lit up with grace.
So I am gentle when gazing
On you when embracing.
And take care in your sweet sacred space.
FROM ONLINE ETYMOLOGICAL DICTIONARY
agnostic (n.) 1870, “one who professes that the existence of a First Cause and the essential nature of things are not and cannot be known” [Klein]; coined by T.H. Huxley (1825-1895), supposedly in September 1869, from Greek agnostos “unknown, unknowable,” from a- “not” + gnostos “(to be) known” (see gnostic). Sometimes said to be a reference to Paul’s mention of the altar to “the Unknown God,” but according to Huxley it was coined with reference to the early Church movement known as Gnosticism (see Gnostic).
I … invented what I conceived to be the appropriate title of ‘agnostic,’ … antithetic to the ‘Gnostic’ of Church history who professed to know so much about the very things of which I was ignorant. [T.H. Huxley, “Science and Christian Tradition,” 1889]
The adjective is first recorded 1878