Poetry Monday :: Father :: Not My Words

Today I'm cheating. The Father I want to honour today is the spiritual father - our priests, and what better poem than this (Irish, I think) prayer/poem?

The Beautiful Hands of a Priest.

We need them in life's early morning,
We need them again at its close;
We feel their warm clasp of true friendship,
We seek them while tasting life's woes.
When we come to this world we are sinful,
The greatest as well as the least.
And the hands that make us pure as angels
Are the beautiful hands of a priest.

At the altar each day we behold them,
And the hands of a king on his throne
Are not equal to them in their greatness
Their dignity stands alone.
For there in the stillness of morning
Ere the sun has emerged from the east,
There God rests between the pure fingers
Of the beautiful hands of a priest.

When we are tempted and wander
To pathways of shame and sin
'Tis the hand of a priest that will absolve us.
Not once but again and again.
And when we are taking life's partner
Other hands may prepare us a feast
But the hands that will bless and unite us,
Are the beautiful hands of a priest.

God bless them and keep them all holy,
For the Host which their fingers caress,
What can a poor sinner do better
But to praise Thee who chose thee to bless
When the death dews on our eyes are falling,
May our courage and strength be increased
To see, raised above us in blessing
The beautiful hands of a priest.

- - - - -

Next Mondays Topic: Bubbles.

WEP - A New Challenge with an Old Protagonist

For years now I have been reading Olga Godim's blog, but not until now it has dawned upon me that the Write ... Edit ... Publish Challenge was for everybody. And now the prompt, topic, whatyamacallit is the Great Wave off Kanagawa (神奈川沖浪裏). A piece of art that has always been of significance to me -- and hence to Susan. I do not know if continuing a story you wrote before joining WEP would be considered cheating, but as it is my story, my blog and my fun, I do it anyway.

Back to the Unicorn Farm we go ...

Back to the Christmas holidays, where Susan gets an inkling of Torben and Tristan's sombre plans. The link is to the last episode in this chapter. The chapter in one go can be read here.

The Christmas party had been a mixed blessing. Susan had seen and talked to the Lion Dancers, Kensuke and Teiko once again. She already missed them even if they left only two days ago. And Ella. That girl was something special. She could do no magic, but she now lived with her grandmother who was the best witch Susan had ever met, maybe apart from Thora. She had of course also left two days ago same as all the other guests. Scheduled teaching in magic had taken over, and Susan was at the same time relieved and sad. Relieved because studying magic was fun, it was what she most loved to do, and as she was an introvert, she had had  a hard time when the Farm was filled up with strangers everywhere. But still she missed  Kensuke, Teiko and gentle Ella.
  Heidi and the twins, Lis and Tage tried to lift up her spirits by telling awful jokes and generally making her laugh. Of course it was nice to have them as friends. Heidi was the very best friend, and a genius when it came to transformation, the only subject apart from broomstick flying where Susan did not excel. She hated flying, she thought. No, that was not true. She did not really hate it, she just found it tedious, a chore,  and a scary chore at that.
  The next morning Heidi woke Susan up with her yells: "Susan, Susan, there's a letter for you! It was on my pillow. It must have come by magical mail, but it looks just like a normal letter."
  "Please let me have it," Susan said. Heidi handed her the letter and pretended not to be interested in the contents, combing her hair and putting it in pigtails while Susan looked at the letter.
  "It's from Japan!" Susan said in surprise.
  "How do you know?" Heidi asked. She stopped pretending she was absorbed in doing her hair, and sat next to Susan on the rollaway bed.
  "Look at the stamp. It's my favourite Japanese woodcut, the Great Wave off Kanagawa, I'm sure it's Teiko or Kensuke writing."
 "Open it already!" Heidi said, bouncing on the bed.
  "Yes, yes, will do." Susan turned over the letter. "There's no sender," she said mystified. Then she threw caution to the winds, and ripped open the letter. Inside was a folded sheet of paper, written in Kensuke's crabbed handwriting. Susan read through it quickly. "It seems they, that is Kensuke, Teiko and Ella, met with some sort of accident on their way home. They are all at Ella's Grandma's place now. And they will return here."
  Heidi smiled, then turned serious. "I hope they were not hurt," she said.
  "No, not that kind of accident," Susan said. "I've got to read the letter one more time or two, but it seems like something happened to the portal and dumped them in Ella's woods. You remember I told about the werewolves and the gargoyles?" Heidi nodded. "Well it seems that one of the former werewolves has some kind of problems. They'll come here to get help from the teachers. Oh, I hope they'll stay for a while."

"You hope who is going to stay?" Lis asked as she opened the door. "You'd better come down, breakfast is ready. If we're having guests, I hope Mum is not going to explode."

***

Word count: 561 ~ Full critique acceptable.
Typos will be corrected as commenters tell me about my mistakes. Thanks in advance.

Words for Wednesday - June 16

This June  the Words for Wednesday are at River's blog Drifting Through Life. For June 16 we were given:

1. lustrum *
2. purification
3. provide
4. lullaby
5. manorhouse
6. salvage
    and/or:
1. draconian
2. boreal
3. eggs
4. rubbed
5. pans
6. smoothed

* in ancient Rome the quinqiennial purification of the people

Remember to go back, read other peoples' stories there or follow their links back. And please place a comment after reading. Challenges like this one thrives on interaction.

I promised to continue Susan's story. Here's part 4. It's still quite depressing ... and as usually it just stops. I'll have to continue the sad story of Susan's comedown, if I can. I took up the additional challenge of using the words in the order, they were given.


Susan was not listening. The teacher was so boring today. He kept talking of this Lustrum, the purification of the people and how this could provide them with a new start, or a sense of security. She was not sure which. The drone of this voice turned into a lullaby, and Susan dozed off. It had been a late night again yesterday. Hilde from the manor house turned collective outside of town had been at The Dipper.
  There had been a happening, A couple of drunk Swedes had overturned the bar, smashing some bottles and generally creating havoc. Most of the bottles were not broken, and they had even been able to salvage the glasses that normally stood on the bar. But the owner had been quite draconian in his measures and had expelled everybody from the top room, even Susan and her friends, who had had nothing to do with the Swedes, only playing pool and minding their own business.
  As the night air was rater Boreal, Susan and several of the other young ones had followed Hilde to her manor house, where they had had eggnogs. Some of the happy go lucky ways of the collective had rubbed off to the youngsters and they had eaten all the eggs and used most of the sugar and spiced Rhum with no thoughts for the consequences.
  Later one of the grown ups from the manor house came and told them off for not scrubbing the pans they had used. When Hilde had smoothed over the hurt feelings of everyone, Susan had begun the long, cold walk home.

... to be continued.

Poetry Monday :: Monkeying Around

If you want to read some good poetry,  Diane - who has taken over the hosting of  this challenge - and Mimi of Messymimi's Meanderings - who also supplies us with topics - are writing wonderful, funny, thought-provoking, ingenious and honestly well written verse. Go and read.

  Karen of Baking in a Tornado has joined us in this crazy pursuit, and promises us at least a poem a month - may  we hope for more!
  SpikesBestMate often publishes a nice verse in the comments.

  Jenny at Procrastinating Donkey who has been a faithful participant, is taking a break due to her husband's passing from this world. Let's continue to send warm thoughts, good energy, and lots of prayers her way.

I have something more to ask of you: If you read this and the poetry of others, would you please leave a comment. Half - if not more - the fun of these challenges is receiving the responses of others.

🙈 🙉 🙊

As today is my birthday, and I'm monkeying around celebrating, I'll repeat an old poem from Monday 25th of March 2019.

-- 🐒 -- 

25 March 2019
Delores of Mumblings and Jenny of Procrastinating Donkey are taking turns hosting Poetry Monday.
Today's theme is Monkeys. (courtesy of Jenny).
What to do with such a theme?
 I had to monkey around, monkeying an old counting rhyme.

-- 🐵 --

Sock monkey, Brass monkey, Grease monkey, Thief.
Desk monkey, Code monkey, Funky monkey, Chief.

Words for Wednesday June 9

This June  the Words for Wednesday are at River's blog Drifting Through Life. For June 9 we were given:

1. amber
2. alabaster
3. bow-legged
4. extensive
5. seesaw
6. kill
         and/or:
1. lighthouse
2. market
3. cloudy
4. pigeonhole
5. goldmine
6. mute

Remember to go back, read other peoples' stories there or follow their links back. And please place a comment after reading. Challenges like this one thrives on interaction.

I promised to continue Susan's story. Here's part 3. It's quite depressing ... and as usually it just stops. I'll have to continue the sad story of Susan's comedown, if I can.

After a month the work in the shop and school had settled into a routine. Even carrying the huge amount of money to the post office every night had lost its thrill.
Susan began playing with Laurids and his crew again, but a bow-legged man playing violin and saw-blades had taken over her place in the band, and he was better, even if Susan hated to admit it. The summer spent at Unicorn Farm (even if she remembered it as a 4H summer course), her accident with following bed rest, and then work with and in the new shop had not left her much time for practise, and her play was rusty and not fluent. Lady Marion of course was a darling, as were Stellan and Jasper, the two brothers from abroad, but Susan felt ill at ease.
One evening after the shop had closed, Susan sat on a bench in the market square. Just sitting, not wanting to go home, eat dinner, do homework and go to bed. The early summer night was warm, the pearly sky beautiful, and she just sat there.

A bunch of people, she knew a little from school passed by and sat themselves down on the neighbouring benches. They talked a bit, agonizing over school, work and life in general.
The others rose to go somewhere, and Mike said: "Come with us, Susan., We're going to have a beer and play some pool at The Dipper."
"I'm not very good at pool," Susan protested, "and I don't like beer."
"You do not have to drink any, if you don't like it. They serve soft drinks as well, and we're not better at pool than you are, I'm sure," he insisted.

Susan rose from the bench and went with them to The Dipper. It was one of the more dingy places in town; an arched gateway led from the street through the house to a cobbled yard where rickety tables and flowers in old oil cans stood invitingly in the dusk. Quite a few customers sat by the tables, hugging glass mugs with amber contents. Susan followed in the wake of the others and was met by the overwhelming, but somehow comforting smell of stale smoke, beer and human bodies.
They placed their orders at a bar, Susan went for a chocolate milk, and earned no strange stares, which pleased her immensely. The bottles of liquor were neatly stacked in pigeon holes behind the counter, where you would expect a mirror.
They paid and continued up the stairs and tackled the pool table. To her own surprise, Susan was not bad at it. She had of course had some practise at the pool table in the attic, but this bunch used to play almost every night. As the evening wore on, and the others drank more beer, Susan became better and better in comparison, and actually had fun beating them at the game.
When she returned home, her parents had gone to bed and put a note on the door. "Please be quiet!" She tiptoed in, brushed her teeth and slept from her alarm clock next morning.

Mum came in and woke her up: "Where did you spend last night, young lady?" she asked sternly.
Susan answered truthfully that she had been playing pool with a bunch of her schoolmates.
"Did you drink?" Mum asked, sniffing suspiciously.
"Nope," Susan said. "You know, I don't like beer, and I'm not allowed to buy liquor, and even if I was, it's too expensive. I drank chocolate milk, lots of them actually, as all the others drank beer, and kept on losing. I only paid for two of them myself."
Mum smiled. "You're a smart girl, Susan. Keep it that way, but don't come home this late every evening."
"I won't," Susan promised. "It's not nice being this tired in the morning."

Do you think Susan is going to keep her promise?

To be continued ...