Just after posting at my new blog today, I opened the newest Poetic Outlaws offering, "Sunday Morning", from the top of the totem pole itself :-).
I once was madly in love with a woman, who grew up Southern Baptist, and finally concluded they were too servere and she switched to attending the Episcopal church in which I had grown up after my mother switched from the Southern Baptists to a new church in an old farm house pastored by a young Episcopal priest.
Now, this woman I loved so much, our passion was not of this world, and often when we were alone, just sitting, talking, we went into something we called "the space", which so smooth and silky, so marvelous, that I hoped it wold never end.
She was convinced, if she did not attend church every Sunday, she would die and burn in hell. But one Sunday, I persuaded her to go with me to a nearby lake that rented canoes. I had been a pretty good whitewater canoeist, and I still figured I could keep from tipping over a canoe on a flat clam lake. It was a warm beautiful sunny spring day. We were in the space. We saw a great blue heron fishing in shallow water next to an island in the lake. But after it was over, she didn't want to do it again.
Part of my blog post today, "When are we ever not in church" is about that Episcopal church, and is an insult to what Eric gave the world in his incredible poem, but, sadly, just as real.
The blog post begins"
"So on this Sunday, perhaps it is appropriate to share recent FB chat with the Trumper Joseph, who got a lot of air time in the previous post at this blog. After that, he switched lanes. Birmingham is our hometown, and we both attended the McCallie School in Chattanooga, Tennessee, and Vanderbilt University in Nashville, and we both grew up in St. Luke's Episcopal Church in the Crestline sIde of Mt. Brook aka The Tiny Kingdom."
Erik your masculine, lyrical sweetness makes me swoon. I am reminded of the early days when I met my husband....camping at Provincial State Park in Canada. Big water. Big love.
A calming morning read in a land obsessed with guns and slaughter whereas we should look around us , as you have, and find the natural beauty of nature and love of life without a killing object in our hand or on our mind
This poem was incredible. You painted a beautiful picture with your words. I've been playing with the idea of writing poetry and seeing this feels like divine timing
I've just published my first poem online. Definitely won't be my last. Thank you for encouraging me to write. I can see myself really getting into this!
Thanks for continuing to share your own writing here from time to time, great poem.
Thank you. I appreciate the kind words.
truly wonderful poem. thank you.
Just after posting at my new blog today, I opened the newest Poetic Outlaws offering, "Sunday Morning", from the top of the totem pole itself :-).
I once was madly in love with a woman, who grew up Southern Baptist, and finally concluded they were too servere and she switched to attending the Episcopal church in which I had grown up after my mother switched from the Southern Baptists to a new church in an old farm house pastored by a young Episcopal priest.
Now, this woman I loved so much, our passion was not of this world, and often when we were alone, just sitting, talking, we went into something we called "the space", which so smooth and silky, so marvelous, that I hoped it wold never end.
She was convinced, if she did not attend church every Sunday, she would die and burn in hell. But one Sunday, I persuaded her to go with me to a nearby lake that rented canoes. I had been a pretty good whitewater canoeist, and I still figured I could keep from tipping over a canoe on a flat clam lake. It was a warm beautiful sunny spring day. We were in the space. We saw a great blue heron fishing in shallow water next to an island in the lake. But after it was over, she didn't want to do it again.
Part of my blog post today, "When are we ever not in church" is about that Episcopal church, and is an insult to what Eric gave the world in his incredible poem, but, sadly, just as real.
The blog post begins"
"So on this Sunday, perhaps it is appropriate to share recent FB chat with the Trumper Joseph, who got a lot of air time in the previous post at this blog. After that, he switched lanes. Birmingham is our hometown, and we both attended the McCallie School in Chattanooga, Tennessee, and Vanderbilt University in Nashville, and we both grew up in St. Luke's Episcopal Church in the Crestline sIde of Mt. Brook aka The Tiny Kingdom."
https://reflectionsofheretic.blogspot.com/2023/05/when-are-we-ever-not-in-church.html
Erik your masculine, lyrical sweetness makes me swoon. I am reminded of the early days when I met my husband....camping at Provincial State Park in Canada. Big water. Big love.
Thank you.
You're too sweet, thank you!
A calming morning read in a land obsessed with guns and slaughter whereas we should look around us , as you have, and find the natural beauty of nature and love of life without a killing object in our hand or on our mind
That was great, man. I was right there with you. So evocative. What a great way to take in a Sunday Morning.
Appreciate it, thank you!
Ahhh, oh….the delight, and ease, and nowness wonder of this poem. Thank you.
This poem was incredible. You painted a beautiful picture with your words. I've been playing with the idea of writing poetry and seeing this feels like divine timing
Thank you so much... I say do it. There's something in you that's telling you to write. Do it, friend!
I've just published my first poem online. Definitely won't be my last. Thank you for encouraging me to write. I can see myself really getting into this!
Love this
❤️❤️❤️❤️
I love this poem. Thank you.
dee--licious!
Beautiful poem. I could picture myself there. In the backyard. :)
Really beautiful imagery . . . thank you
Just lovely- thank you!
Yikes!!!