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Tony Grist

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Easter Poem [Feb. 8th, 2005|02:58 pm]
Tony Grist
On Being Asked For An Easter Poem

The body once dead is- within four minutes I think- so much unusable carbon and water.
I don't like to think of that body on its ledge degrading.
I wouldn't have turned up three days later like Mary Magdalen.
I'd have been thinking- eugh gross!

So that miracle doesn't fly for me. I cannot feel it here
(thumps chest.)
I cannot think that anyone met Christ in a garden after his death.

I believe in ghosts but that's another matter.

In a churchyard in Kent there was a gravestone with a carving of the Noli Me Tangere.
It was dead clumsy.
Mary had huge hands and Christ, mistaken for the gardener, was leaning on a spade.
Last time I paid it a visit Mary's face had sheared off.
Loose knit stone, Easily carved, easily un-carved. Rub it with your thumb and you get a smear of Ordovician mud on the skin.

Nothing comes back as it once was. Nothing. That's the economy of Terra. There are only so many atoms whizzing around and they are continually being reconfigured. Nothing is lost but everything is remade. And the new thing is not the old thing come back. Does it remember what it once was? Does it hell!

Never before
Never again.

That's the song the midges sing, twirling under the overhang. How long do they last- minutes?

The body drops into dust and the dust is good for something- I don't know what.

It makes the weeds in the garden grow.

Yes, why not!

It makes the weeds in the garden grow.
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Comments:
[User Picture]From: jenny_evergreen
2005-02-08 07:34 am (UTC)
Oh, I like that one, I do.
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[User Picture]From: poliphilo
2005-02-08 07:47 am (UTC)
Thanks. A clergyman friend asked for an easter poem.

I never turn down a challenge, but this was the best I could do. I don't suppose he'll like it.
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[User Picture]From: halfmoon_mollie
2005-02-08 07:38 am (UTC)
Never before
Never again.

That's the song the midges sing, twirling under the overhang. How long do they last- minutes?

The body drops into dust and the dust is good for something- I don't know what.

It makes the weeds in the garden grow.

Yes, why not!

It makes the weeds in the garden grow.


I really like this one, as well. States your views, no apologies.

I love the way you use your words...
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[User Picture]From: poliphilo
2005-02-08 07:48 am (UTC)
Thanks.

I tried to write something more upbeat, but this is what came through...
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[User Picture]From: halfmoon_mollie
2005-02-08 07:52 am (UTC)
Then it's as it should be. What comes through...that's usually your best.
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[User Picture]From: jackiejj
2005-02-08 08:07 am (UTC)
So much to think about!

That is why I love your poetry.

And you always surprise me with a sudden image.

I'll be thinking about midges twirling all day.

And:

Quoth the raven: Nevermore.
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[User Picture]From: jackiejj
2005-02-08 08:04 am (UTC)
A poem with a song inside it:


Never before
Never again.

That's the song the midges sing, twirling under the overhang.


Hidden in the center of this poem about never is the quiet

I believe in ghosts but that's another matter.


Midges and gardeners die, and we breathe in the atoms of wings and the last words of Christ, while ghosts watch us who
are afraid of their own dead bodies and who want to eat lemon pie.





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[User Picture]From: poliphilo
2005-02-08 08:13 am (UTC)
I couldn't keep the ghosts out entirely, but It seemed right that they should only peek in through the door.

A ghost who wants to eat lemon pie- is that in Holzer? Please give me chapter and verse!
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[User Picture]From: jackiejj
2005-02-08 08:20 am (UTC)
It's Swedenborg, actually.

He said he could see spirits hovering around gluttons, or alchoholics.

They yearned to experience vicariously through the earthbound body the taste of liquor or chocolate. The spirits' intensity of desire could even cause cravings.

He said sometimes one person would be surrounded by two or three hovering spirits.

(One of the reasons I decided Swedenborg might be a bit loopy. But then there's that twinge of doubt, too: what if it's true? Because, really, what do we know of the Outer World except through our shamans and poets and cranks?)
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[User Picture]From: poliphilo
2005-02-08 08:27 am (UTC)
I've read that cases of "possession" may amount to this, the weakened spirit of the addict being unable to keep the hungry ghost from breaking into his body to experience drink or sex or lemon pie through him.

Pretty shuddersome....

I'd prefer it not to be true- which probably means that it is.

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[User Picture]From: jackiejj
2005-02-08 08:24 am (UTC)
And I once read somewhere that with every breath we are inhaling atoms that Jesus exhaled when he spoke his last words on the cross.
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[User Picture]From: tamnonlinear
2005-02-08 08:38 am (UTC)
I quite like this. Thank you.
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[User Picture]From: poliphilo
2005-02-08 08:54 am (UTC)
I was challenged to write something for Easter.

It didn't come out at all the way I intended.
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[User Picture]From: strange_complex
2005-02-08 09:33 am (UTC)
Hello! I found you via some mutual friends and some common interests, and thought you looked eminently friendable, so I have. This comment is just me popping by to introduce myself, and to say that if you want to friend me back that's great, but if not, no worries.
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[User Picture]From: poliphilo
2005-02-08 10:21 am (UTC)
How nice to meet you.

I love anything Roman and I'm a huge admirer of Christopher Lee.

I'm friending you right back.
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