Song of Songs

Let him kiss me, the kisses of his mouth.
With them, an action, readily allowed.
For more delightful is your love than wine.
Of your perfumes, their fragrance is divine.
Your name is like perfume that’s been poured out.
It’s why they love you, women, young, no doubt!
Let’s hurry, take me with you, me away.
Me, to his chambers, may the king convey.

Manifesto of the Repressive Reductionists

That he would take some pre-existing work
And write it different as some poetry
And call that “art”, that notion, we oppose.
In bondage, we detest all those who’re free.

(The foregoing text was signed “Thierry Henriest Charpentier”, dated as of today’s date, hand-written in cursive in green ink on a single sheet of A4 paper, folded in half, and hand-delivered without an envelope by the Constable in the manner of a process server, with no request for verification of identity.)

Psalm 150

O praise the LORD, his sanctuary, there,
praise God, the mighty heavens, that is where.
Praise him for acts of power, how he’s great,
surpassing all, this manner, give him praise:
with trumpet’s sounding, with the harp and lyre,
with timbrel, dancing, also strings and pipes.
Praise him with clash of cymbals, that again,
if it has breath, now praise him, everything!

O praise the LORD, our praises without end!

Psalm 138

I’ll praise you, LORD, with all my heart; before
those other “gods” I’ll sing your praise. Toward
your holy temple, I’ll bow down and praise,
for both your faithfulness and love, your name,
for you have so exalted your decree,
that solemn one, surpasses all your fame.
When I called out, to my cries, answering,
your answer greatly has emboldened me.
May all the kings of earth give you their praise,
O LORD, when they hear those decrees you state.
May they sing of the LORD’s ways, for it’s great,
the glory of the LORD. Exalted, he,
the LORD, but ne’ertheless, he kindly sees,
looks on the lowly; though he lofty, sits,
he sees them from afar. Though in the midst
of trouble that is where I walk, my life,
what you preserve. Your outstretched hand will strive
against the anger of my foes; with your
right hand you save me. Vindicate for sure,
the LORD will, me; your love endures fore’er,
LORD, don’t abandon works your hands have paired.

Psalm 133

How good and pleasant when the people trod
in unity together, those of God!

Like precious oil poured out upon the head,
that’s running down the beard, down Aaron’s beard,
it’s running down the collar of his robe.
As if the dew of Hermon, hoary snow,
were falling on Mount Zion. There bestowed,
the LORD, his blessings, life forevermore.

Psalm 120

I call upon the LORD in my distress,
and always, in that place, he answers me.
From lying lips, LORD, save me, and their tongues
deceitful words, about me, what they speak.

What will he do to you, what more besides,
O you deceitful tongue, the consequence?
With arrows, sharp, the warrior’s, rain on you,
the broom bush, burning coals, as punishment.

I dwell in Meshek, now is woe to me,
that where I live, amongst their tents, Kedar’s!
Too long ‘mongst ones who’re hating peace, which I
am for, but when I speak, they are for war.

Psalm 117

O praise the LORD, you nations, all of you;
extolling him, you peoples, all, anew.
For great, his love, that he directs towards us,
the LORD’s endures fore’er, his faithfulness.
O praise the LORD, our “Hallelujahs” thus!

Barn Swallows

This evening, now, this scene I just observed.
At first, my tender nature was disturbed.
On my back porch two birds before I’d seen
were roosting where their nest, last year, had been.
I saw it that first summer I was here.
Their prior residence I long revered.
Was quarter-spherical and made of mud.
Their home, I know, with sweat and tears and blood.
But at the first when on the patio
some menacing displays that these birds showed.
They divebomb flying, close to me, so low.
My presence sensed, a threat, so they attack.
The only thing to do if I’d fight back.
Still strafing me, their menacing displays.
My presence they would never tolerate.
Not mere annoyance, I’d retaliate:
I want to help them better propagate.
Their paranoia I observed last year.
Like all birds, push their brood from out their lair.
Too early pushed their chicks who couldn’t fly.
Their broken bodies on my porch to die.
I hoped that if their nest I would destroy
their building efforts elsewhere could employ.
A changed location, safety paramount,
their full-developed chicks, the skies could mount!
But now these swallows only mourn their plight.
Refuse to light a candle, curse the night.
The facts remembered, all this narrative,
avoid misguided guilt, imperative.
Emotions processed through my poetry.
I bare my soul and all the world would see.
I read somewhere of migratory birds:
disturb their nests, a felony incurred!!