Monday, August 25, 2014


The shutters are open,
there are no curtains.

Stop.  Look through the dark pane.
Find simple sanctuary without icon or lace,

a congregation of one, who has forgotten
how to pray.  Come.  Listen.

Take up residence, sweep away the dust;
expose silent eyes, deep wits.  

Light a candle.  Line the sills with potted geraniums.
Stay.  Long enough to see them grow.

Be the sexton who makes supper of thoughts,
whisks a fluffy omelet of the past.

Sing.  Something that sounds like a hymn,
what ships and stones might say.

Dote on my still possible body,
the soft secret structure of worship.

tk/August 2014

R.A.D. Stainforth takes my words to the next level ...


  1. be still my beating heart..this is glorious.......x

  2. Your words play from an instrument I had not seen within this artful piece, and as your words played on, I welcomed your artful, exploration enjoyably so!

  3. Ah, this next level of possibilities...

  4. A beautiful plea...a gorgeous write Tess!!

  5. Ya know, I feel and "hear" that you--whether realizing it or not--Tess, write with the "voice" in mind. I don't really need to listen to him, b/c I a
    ctually "hear" his words spoken as I read!
    LOVE IT ALL! Picture this week is WOW!

  6. "Stop. Look through the dark pane." ... I love this line. And the last two.

  7. Have I mentioned that you're rather good at this?


  8. "Be the sexton who makes supper of thoughts"...all the words seem to say this line in so many ways. ...fantastic...

  9. this is mesmerizing, tess. you literally make me want to go stand beneath the stars!

    stacy lynn mar

  10. Excellent writing! Love it:) Thanks for sharing.

  11. 'whisks a fluffy omelet of the past' ... great wordplay, Tess. I love how you capture the essence of time in your writing. Well done.

  12. Well done Tess..thanks for sharing

  13. and the insomniac Nietzsxhe was able to continue to conceal his dirty little secret ...that he liked to stroll the fields at night and paint , all the universe was his canvas , though the stars were almost obliterated ......

  14. Wonderul. I love the one-word imperatives and how they slow the pacing of this beautiful poem. "what ships and stones might say" is great... to know the unknowable. Wonderful read.

  15. Tess, you know how to hit me right in the face, you know that?

    "a congregation of one, who has forgotten
    how to pray. Come. Listen." JUST BRILLIANT!

    Love and Light, S


  16. pssst. go buy some blackout curtains. :P

  17. Love & worship. Nice words here :)


Inject a few raisins of conversation into the tasteless dough of existence.
― O. Henry (and me)