on the fires of useless rigor tossed
I felt my angels say, scuttled, folded away with moths
but not the luna moths with something nondescript and mechanical
systematically eratically ravaging
what do you mean the scribblers asked the technical writers
university trained
the arch professors
you know the feelings like flowers do you remember asked
a character in Chekov I met on a summer's day
there are other instances
or there were I said sorrowfully
turning away from the screens
the screening processes
the beautiful words have gone
so many no longer even want
to speak of beauty
it's an old coinage
they don't know what it's for
if it can't be spent on getting through the door
beyond the velvet ropes to the clubs to the after parties
what shall we do with the bright remnants
the couriers coming through from Heavenly realms now
on a daily basis
send them back on the next train?
I will retain them I said
still in the voice of the stilled rains in fine memory
refined again
the brokenhearted finding no outlet
the Biblical words of comforting
rendered ludicrous.
by the unfeeling
the unknowing saboteurs.
of everything that was pure.
still God, beyond words, sustains. endures.
the Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want
mary angela douglas 18 december 2022
P.S. THE KING OF LOVE MY SHEPHERD IS (OLD HYMN)
The King of Love My Shepherd Is
By: Henry W. Baker
The King of love my shepherd is,
Whose goodness faileth never;
I nothing lack if I am his
And he is mine forever.
Where streams of living water flow,
My ransomed soul he leadeth
And, where the verdant pastures grow,
With food celestial feedeth.
Perverse and foolish oft I strayed,
But yet in love he sought me
And on his shoulder gently laid
And home rejoicing brought me.
In death's dark vale I fear no ill
With thee, dear Lord, beside me,
Thy rod and staff my comfort still,
Thy cross before to guide me.
Thou spredst a table in my sight;
Thine unction grace bestoweth;
And, oh, what transport of delight
From thy pure chalice floweth!
And so through all the length of days
Thy goodness faileth never.
Good Shepherd, may I sing thy praise
Within thy house forever.
By: Henry W. Baker
The King of love my shepherd is,
Whose goodness faileth never;
I nothing lack if I am his
And he is mine forever.
Where streams of living water flow,
My ransomed soul he leadeth
And, where the verdant pastures grow,
With food celestial feedeth.
Perverse and foolish oft I strayed,
But yet in love he sought me
And on his shoulder gently laid
And home rejoicing brought me.
In death's dark vale I fear no ill
With thee, dear Lord, beside me,
Thy rod and staff my comfort still,
Thy cross before to guide me.
Thou spredst a table in my sight;
Thine unction grace bestoweth;
And, oh, what transport of delight
From thy pure chalice floweth!
And so through all the length of days
Thy goodness faileth never.
Good Shepherd, may I sing thy praise
Within thy house forever.
PSALM 23 THE HOLY BIBLE
PS
T
Songwriters: Jackie Williams. For non-commercial use only.
(A Psalm of David.) The LORD is my shepherd; I shall not want.
2He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: he leadeth me beside the still waters.
3He restoreth my soul: he leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name's sake.
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