Taking
her by the hand
he led her into the stream,
the crowd began to chant the psalms.
Rebirth.
Category Archives: Christian
Colleen’s 2019 Weekly #Tanka Tuesday #Poetry Challenge No. 128 #SynonymsOnly #cinquain
Filed under As you read it, Christian, faith, Self compositions
RonovanWrites #Weekly #Haiku #Poetry Prompt #Challenge #240 Do&Say
Before the altar,
the couple will say, “I do.”
a vow before God
Filed under As you read it, Christian, faith, Haiku, On the lines of romance, Self compositions
This week’s entry for Sue Vincent’s #Thursdayphotoprompt #Writephoto
A time of despair
lay cold breath upon the land.
While Lord King Arthur
retired within his chamber,
sat alone, in cuckold’s grief.
No consolation
could he gain, from grieving wife,
or courtly knights,
till from the high battlements
joyful cries when far below
in supplication,
knelt his once favourite knight
who, though hermit now
pledged his service and his sword
to the man whom once he wronged.
Thus was pestilence once more,
purged from proud, fair Albion.
MLMM’s Photo Challenge #249
We dismounted. Staring in awe at the scene before us we knelt down and gave thanks to the Lord. Our quest had not been in vain. Our beloved Emperor Hadrian would reward us well for had we not found the place they must surely have called Golgotha.
We entered and searched diligently but there was nothing to suggest that the sect known as Christians had interfered with it in any way. It was empty, the mud floor overgrown with brush. It had probably been ransacked many decades previously but we could not afford to take any chances.
We would find lodgings in the village and leave a sentry here while we sent dispatches to Rome. Nothing was to be disturbed on pain of death. All we could do now was wait until we learnt our beloved Emperor’s wishes for this place that seemed to hold so much significance for the followers of this so-called Messiah.
COLLEEN’S WEEKLY #TANKA TUESDAY #POETRY CHALLENGE NO. 114, Try & Life #SYNONYMSONLY
On our first attempt
to justify existence
he was not convinced.
The creator of all things
chose to become destroyer.
Filed under As you read it, Christian, faith, Old knowledge, Self compositions, Tanka
COLLEEN’S WEEKLY #TANKA TUESDAY #POETRY CHALLENGE NO. 111, “CELEBRATE & NUMBER,” #SYNONYMSONLY
We come together,
rejoice in communion,
partake of the host.
Rituals and practices
bringing comfort to many.
Filed under Christian, faith, From the heart, Tanka
Sue Vincent’s wonderful Thursday photo prompt #Writephoto #Haibun
Beautiful bower,
Stained marble stones hide bleached bones.
A place of sadness.
From his raised throne at the head of the hall, the Compte LaReine turned to his master chevalier.
“I’ll see them now, my three guests.”
The heavy oak doors at the end of the hall swung back and three white robed knights were invited into the long, wood-panelled hall. They had surrendered their swords and shields, distinctively marked with the red long-halted cross.
The three approached the dais and bowed low before the Count. Dubois, their spokesman started to introduce himself and his companions but was rudely interrupted by a loud, bellowing voice demanding the reason for their apparent desertion from the Templar order.
Unbeknown to them the Count was dismayed that they had not been willing to divulge the whereabouts of the legendary famed Templar treasure. He knew that the Order had lost favour and wished to curry favour with King Phillip. After secret negotiations he had agreed that the three, accused of heresy, although falsely, would be confined for two days and without trial, put to death as ordered by the King.
“Take them below,” he thundered and roughly, without ceremony, they were lead away. Two days later they were unceremoniously put to death and their bodies taken and placed in a shallow grave in the forest to be forgotten.
So they remained for the next two centuries until the Pope was persuaded to grant a pardon to all the French Templars and throughout the country, the bodies were exhumed where known and re-interred beneath marker stones in the territories where they were once revered for their piety and fighting prowess.
These stones remain a place of pilgrimage, although more often a destination for treasure hunters and the curious.
#FirstlineFriday
Amber light streamed down from the arched windows, splattering the altar and their upturned faces. The priest held the ornate, silver chalice in both hands and raised it above his head. His low, droning incantation repeated by his two surplice-clad assistants.
All three turned to face the expectant congregation. Already a queue had formed for the communion ritual. The first communicants already knelt before the screen that separated them from the Holy of holies.
The three officiates moved towards the kneeling line with their platters of communion wafers and wine chalice.
As the priest leaned forward he lurched and trying to grasp the arm of his assistant he dropped the wine chalice to the stone floor before collapsing with his hands clasped to his breast. A red stain slowly spread across the flagstones as the echo of the falling cup died away.
Cries of alarm and shock escaped the stunned congregation.
All except one.
A tall, strangely pale figure got up from his seat at the back of the nave and laughed. Placing his black cape over his shoulders he skipped to the door and exited.
Sue Vincent’s #Writephoto /Footprints
Joannus Rodriguez took one last look to right and left then quickly ran across the sand. They had gone. For two days he had been hiding in the small cave at the base of the cliff. Nobody had thought to climb over the rocks and search the shingle beach to the West. They had all been concerned with the few items that he had left in his small, upturned skiff. These paeons were so predictable, a bundle of gaudy blousons, some cheap stockings and a small cask of cheap brandy had kept them arguing amongst themselves for hours. Now it was time to make his way to the house of the Throckmortons. Then after a good meal they could commence their spreading of the true faith. They had all the ecclesiastical vestments safely hidden, ready for him to begin his tour of the houses of the faithful. His flock who still supported the old religion before the upstart Elizabeth the frigid cat had driven them underground. Those steadfast men and women who were forced to keep their services hidden. Proud in their defiance of those heretics who threatened them with imprisonment, painful tortures and violence, even death. All for their belief in the true God through his representative on Earth, His Holiness Pope Benedict.
Filed under Christian, faith, Flash fiction, History, Self compositions
Ronovan writes #165 #Haiku Passion and play
Oberammergau,
decennial passion play
Celebrating Christ
Filed under Christian, Haiku, Self compositions, Uncategorized
When the pen takes control. 