The Gospel Hour


The Gospel of Micah, AKA the Gospel of Enoch. Micah was a goat herder on a planet known to us as Heaven. He was a simple man but became prominent in the politics of religion when he challenged the idea that the earth was flat. “It’s not,” he spoke up in a class he was taking on Goat Herding that was required of all goat herders. “It is curved, like a woman’s breast, but not soft, hard as concrete.” 6.23.19 Copyright Gordon Kuhn, Poet in the Rain.

With apologies to the Mormons: And it came to pass that Micah was summoned forth to meet the highest council having been through the lower courts to argue that the earth was round. “You still claim the earth is round?” An aged sage sat forward and waved his cane in the goat herders face. But Micah held his ground despite the waving rod thrust up against his nose.”Excuse me, sir, but yes, it is round.” The council sat back and were grave all around. “But don’t you understand that we’ve been teaching humans for centuries that the place is flat? Then you come along and wish it to be known that this place, this Earth is round? I say to my brothers on the council, are we not in motion to send the herder down to the planet in banishment?” Whereupon God’s younger brother Phil entered the central room and to all did astound. “I am here to speak on the goat herder’s behalf.” A murmur did raise among those in the hall and one said, “I thought he had been banished or…..or locked up somewhere.” But Phil stood forth with an askew grin, “No, I have escaped and come to stand before you this day. For surely this herder, this gentleman who tends our sheep and smells like them needs defense from such plotting here.”

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Writing at 2 AM


I was trying to write with a dictation program that’s in the computer. Well that didn’t work. So I switched to Dragon. It’s a little less frustrating, but still frustrating for some reason rather it doesn’t want to work with this program. So why did I come here at two a.m. I guess because I wanted to write. I wanted to write something profound. I wanted to write something unique. But now that I’m sitting here my mind is a blank. So why don’t I just go back to bed. The fact is that I was listening to Bob Dylan and it’s got my mind all stirred up so I can’t really just go back to bed. But probably in a few minutes I will be able to.

So what about poetry. I get some great ideas running through my mind. The problem is if I want to publish them professionally I can’t post them here. Why? Because a lot of magazines consider that to be preventing them from having first rights I guess. Who knows. It’s two a.m.

SILENT WITH WORDS


Keith is a poet that posts his own poetry while supporting other bloggers as well. I think this piece deserves a reblog and I hope you do as well.

keithgarrettpoetry

SILENT WITH WORDS

Their voices can not be heard, speak without sound,

From their minds, words do form, communicate with signs.

Much to say in different ways as they plan their days,

Silent with words that can be heard, they reach out to the world.

Living in a silent land but they hear all that we have to say,

They are silent with words, listen and they shall be heard.

Keith Garrett

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Coloring the dreams


Very passionate. Great writing and deserved a reblog.

The words untrammelled..exploring love, life and philosophy

Dedicated to my dad..
Late Dr. Ashutosh Mulye

Everyday I meet you in my dreams,

The dreams in bits and pieces,

I hear your silence,

I see your smiles,

Smiles and silence that dissolve in the dark…

The black and white stories,

I see them linkless,

Remembering them over and over,

Then I add some colour,

To the black and white in the dark,

Adding more of life to it,

Making it alive once again,

Too real to be true,

Making them ever green..

Then I meet you again,

During the day when alone,

Living those live memories,

Of your long lasting dreams…

Copyright 2019 Chitkala Mulye (Chitkala Aditosh)

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The Church Lady & The Preacher


There once was an old lady who went church and sat at the very back. She was partially deaf but would shout out her agreement with the preacher at various times. One Sunday the preacher was talking about the sins of mankind and began by shouting out about the use of drink. The woman yelled: AMEN. The minister then began to talk about loose morals and the woman shouted: AMEN. He then drew up in total disgust and started talking about chewing tobacco and from the back of the church the woman yelled: MIND YOUR OWN BUSINESS.

I don’t always understand Poetry


UNDRESSED THOUGHTS

I don’t always understand
Poetry
What and Why and How of it
Just goes over my head

Lately, some writers
with metaphors
Started making sense
What and Why and How of it
is still a complicated essence.

Comprehension of the same
comes with experience
Life stories
and its appearance

Acknowledging the true nature
of written poetic words
Attaching the same
with life’s twists and turns

©Kritika

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