Time abandoned; much free-flowing dancing.
A sliver of the crescent moonlight shimmers.
The old man on the moon, downward glancing,
pours pure nard on one star; your gown glimmers.
Music fills her soul, and the moment is entrancing
as she dances across the cosmos, skitters
beautiful butterflies, floating freely past,
sipping the nectar of God; rebirthed at last.
Timpani's light thrums pace the orchestral
composition backed by a choir of angels.
Hosts of soloists sing words of ancestral
truth as written on stone by archangels.
Flying above, against all odds, a Kestrel
makes the way clear for the coming death angel.
She dances; Mother Mary, consumed with Joy,
sees her son, Jesus whom man could not destroy.
Over two thousand years have come and gone
while Mary twirls, flooded with elation
as mankind, on bended knee at Easter dawn
prays so thankfully for God's creation,
Jesus was born for man's sin to take on.
Such a profound gift, some bow in prostration.
'Tis easy to see the pure celebration
of a mother portraying such elation.
|
Author Notes
Picture this club entry - Compose a poem of any style and length for the picture. Week of 4-13-2022.
Presented in a Ottava Rima. A poem written in 8-line octives. Each line is of a 10 or 11 syllable count in the following rhyme:
three octive poem. abababcc, dededeff, ghghghii
Definitions:
pure nard, very expensive oil poured on Jesus's feet and head.
Kestrel is a small falcon that hovers with rapidly beating wings.
In Celebration of Holy Week and the greatest blessing mankind could ever have imagined --- Simply seek and Ye shall Find!
|
|
