Church Going (Philip Larkin Poem)
Once I am sure there's nothing going on I step inside, letting the door thud shut. Another church: matting, seats, ...
Once I am sure there's nothing going on I step inside, letting the door thud shut. Another church: matting, seats, ...
Though my mother was already two years dead Dad kept her slippers warming by the gas, put hot water bottles ...
Claiming His name God's purpose for his life reading the ancient prophets the fulfillment of the Word And he sat ...
Standing and reading the ancient scripture claiming his calling within his community of faith Disbelief and anger who is this ...
Entering the holy of holies the priest struck dumb by his disbelief given voice upon his birth a messenger, a ...
Slowing our steps measured steps, of remembrance pilgrims, yoking our lives with Christ and with the first disciples journeying with ...
It wasn't where they were going, it was the walk, the conversation, the revelation they were on the walk, their ...
I listen with disbelief at the grim facts our government's choices to abandon justice for a false belief in security ...
A stranger Down the street On the roof No more In the air - out in space Tacked to the ...
Are you deaf? Don't go ignoring me Don't give me no 'tude! I said, Hey Mountain, move your rocky butt ...
It was supposed to be Arts & Crafts for a week, but when she came home with the "Jesus Saves" ...
Every month or so, Sundays, we walked the line, The limit and the boundary. Past the sweet gum Superb above ...
The first morning of Three Mile Island: those first disquieting, uncertain, mystifying hours. All morning a crew of workmen have ...
Watch out for power, for its avalanche can bury you, snow, snow, snow, smothering your mountain. Watch out for hate, ...
Between the green bud and the red Youth sat and sang by Time, and shed From eyes and tresses flowers ...
The bar he went inside was not A place he often visited; He welcomed anonymity; No one to switch inquisitive ...
Scene, on the Cliffs to the Eastward of the Town of Brighthelmstone in Sussex. Time, a Morning in November, 1792. ...
Watch out for power, for its avalanche can bury you, snow, snow, snow, smothering your mountain. Watch out for hate, ...
Let me not, ever, to the marriage in Cana Of Galilee admit the slightest sentiment Of doubt about the astonishing ...
In the dour ages Of drafty cells and draftier castles, Of dragons breathing without the frame of fables, Saint and ...
The first time I drank gin I thought it must be hair tonic. My brother swiped the bottle from a ...
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