Anton's Ideas

Anton Wills-Eve on world news & random ideas

Category: spiritual poetry

PHYSICIAN HEAL THYSELF


<a href=”https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/natural/”>Natural</a&gt;

explaining my natural contempt for psychiatrists

PHYSICIAN HEAL THYSELF

I was treated once by a psychiatrist who said

You’re doing nothing wrong by going to bed,

With someone for sex, when you’re not wed.

So throw all that unnatural guilt out your head.”

He said all natural feelings, except love of god,

Were normal and right and so I was a stupid sod

And thus mentally ill, for only trying to do right

And wasting my time saying prayers every night.

But he went even further, honestly, listen to this

He made the whole group give each other a kiss

Then share all their fears and acute mental pains

But banning talk of God, sex, or any fiscal gains.

Few of us took any notice of this, which backfired,

As he said he couldn’t cure any people who desired

To stay sunk in the depths of their natural depression

Which resulted, he said, from unnatural suppression.

I don’t know what they paid him to perpetuate my pain

And add lies to the confusion then torturing my brain,

But brain surgery, ECT, and alcohol he used on us a lot

So,when we committed suicide, he’d say,“see the sot

Took no notice of me and the medical advice I gave

He wouldn’t even give it a try or attempt to behave

Like a sensible natural person, doing exactly as he felt,

Instead of saying sorry for his sins as in prayer he knelt.”

AWE

 

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PURGATORY


<a href=”https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/transformation/”>Transformation</a&gt;

                                                                 well it’s a type of transformation!

PURGATORY

My darling, how I should hate to miss my soul’s last flight on high,

 To be taken to heaven on angel wings when God’s paradise is nigh.

 Thus, when at length upon my deathbed, as some day I know I’ll lie,

I hope I shall be conscious, and well enough, to give him this reply

To his last important question, “Do you on my promises still rely?”

And finally say to him,“Yes my Lord,” in some loving way as I die.

However, should my God then say,“Come, enter my promised land!”

I will bring you with me, my darling love, and tightly hold your hand,

So I can explain this problem, while hoping in his mercy He’ll agree,

You too should enter paradise, my love, to be forever there with  me.

“My God, some say she is not worthy to enjoy your eternal love as well,

As she has questioned your existence, and so must now be sent to hell.

Well, I am sorry, my  Lord,  I can’t join you, if you cast my loved one out,

You see, I must stay to care for her, while she’s punished for her doubt.”

Oh how I hope, in time, my unselfish love will help my loving God to see

The reason I was forced to wait for him, and also ask him to wait for me.

It was so that he could, one day, embrace us both, always – for ever more

Rejoicing, eventually, with both of us, as he opened wide Heaven’s door.

But if I did all this in vain, and to hell’s purgatory you yet were consigned

I’d still descend there with you, my love, lest you should lose your mind.

 In that hell, my love, I’d still hold you close, to shield you from the flames

  Until God took pity on your soul, and to heaven’s roll added on our names.

So now you must see, my darling, that my burning love for you’s so strong,

I would happily endure any purgatory for you, however short – however long.

AWE

 

BODY AND SOUL


<a href=”https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/yawn/”>( YAWN )</a>

slowly getting better. meanwhile another repeat.

RECITATIVE 3

        BODY AND SOUL

In May, the lovers’ month, before day’s dawn

My soul first saw our world one Sunday morn

As I, gently, from my mother’s womb was torn.

My eyes were shut, yet my soul could clearly see

The severed cord that had fed and bonded me.

Preparing the body in which it ever was to be

My other self, protecting and loving but also sad

When my will was stronger than it and I was bad.

And yet I loved its heavy censure for I was daily glad

Whenever united with God in prayer and holy love.

As I grew up my soul bound me to Heaven above.

But even a soul can wield iron fist in velvet glove

If correction is the way it shows its sacred care

For our salvation and makes us, in confession, bare

Our forbidden actions – be she the fairest of the fair.

If how we love is outside God’s laws, and thus a sin,

The soul is our conscience which draws us back within

Heaven’s family, God’s children, His kith and kin.

Yet love twixt boy and girl is beautiful and pure

If they in constancy let their passionate hearts endure

A lifetime of keeping their loving vows and so ensure

Temptations of the flesh lead them never so astray

That lust or jealousy leads either one to have to pay

The sorry price of admitting faltering, even for a day.

The soul, our sacred messenger and spiritual friend,

Knows our worst misdeeds. It tells us how to mend

Our ways and thus try to live our lives unto their end

In such a way that God will be with us for all time

And smile on how we tried, ‘oft slipping, still to climb

The steepest mountains to our final goal sublime.

But, if I can live a life from which all bad deeds are hurled

Back to hell. Then may  I truly say, with all hope unfurled,

I paid for all  my sins and so all is well with the world.

AWE

CHRISTMAS NIGHT


<a href=”https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/ebb-and-flow/”>Ebb and Flow</a>

the prompt asks me to imagine I am blogging in three years time.

It’s Christmas Eve again so, as every year, my post comes in the form of a Christmas poem for you all.

 

                                          CHISTMAS NIGHT

 

It’s Christmas ! It’s Christmas with snow on the ground

We’ve a fire and a tree and streamers all round.

Our house looks so lovely by candlelight

We’re all very excited – it’s Christmas night.

 

There’ll be presents, surprises and all sorts of treats,

Mince pies, Christmas pudding, our favourite sweets.

But we must write to Santa and send him our list;

If we don’t do it quickly our house may be missed.

 

We’ve asked for a doll and soft toys galore,

And a big wooden horse that rocks on the floor.

Some soldiers, a football and all kinds of games;

A tiger, an elephant – we’ll have fun with their names.

 

Some story books, paints, real golden rings,

Puzzles, a Teddy – Oh so many nice things.

They say Santa has got such a wonderful store

There’s nothing at all that you can’t ask him for.

 

We’re tucked up in bed rubbing sleep from our eyes

Hoping Santa will bring us a REAL surprise:

Something to show just what Christmas can be,

A present for everyone – not just you and me.

 

We’ve hung up our stockings, the family’s asleep,

But hush! Someone’s coming – we’d better not peep.

Let’s dive down in bed for a few moments more

So we won’t see a thing as he comes through the door.

 

When we open our eyes again – oh! what a sight!

The room is all filled with a wondrous bright light.

On our tree, near the crib,  there’s a shining white dove

And like the first Christmas star, it’s bringing us love.

 

Now we always have stars and a dove on our tree

So we and our friends and relations can see,

How each year our festivities remind us again

That Christmas brings peace and goodwill to all men!

 

AWE

 

MY LAST FLIGHT


<a href=”https://dailypost.wordpress.com/dp_prompt/must-not-fail/”>Must Not Fail</a>

I think ‘would hate to fail’ would better express the prompt.

 

MY LAST FLIGHT

I would  hate to miss my soul’s last flight to the sky

To be ever with God in Heaven when eternity is nigh

So, when on my deathbed some day I shall lie

I hope I will be conscious enough to reply

To God’s question, “Do you on my promise still rely?”

And be able to answer “Yes”, in some way, as I die.

AWE

BODY AND SOUL


<a href=”https://dailypost.wordpress.com/dp_prompt/no-cliffhangers/”>No Cliffhangers</a>

the prompt asked that this post end with the words…’and all was well with the world’.

 

BODY AND SOUL

 

In May, the lovers’ month, before day’s dawn

My soul first saw our world one Sunday morn

As I, gently, from my mother’s womb was torn.

My eyes were shut, yet my soul could clearly see

The severed cord that had fed and bonded me.

Preparing the body in which it ever was to be

My other self, protecting and loving but also sad

When my will was stronger than it and I was bad.

And yet I loved its heavy censure for I was daily glad

Whenever united with God in prayer and holy love.

As I grew up my soul bound me to Heaven above.

But even a soul can wield iron fist in velvet glove

If correction is the way it shows its sacred care

For our salvation and makes us, in confession, bare

Our forbidden actions – be she the fairest of the fair.

If how we love is outside God’s laws, and thus a sin,

The soul is our conscience which draws us back within

Heaven’s family, God’s children, His kith and kin.

Yet love twixt boy and girl is beautiful and pure

If they in constancy let their passionate hearts endure

A lifetime of keeping their loving vows and so ensure

Temptations of the flesh lead them never so astray

That lust or jealousy leads either one to have to pay

The sorry price of admitting faltering, even for a day.

The soul, our sacred messenger and spiritual friend,

Knows our worst misdeeds. It tells us how to mend

Our ways and thus try to live our lives unto their end

In such a way that God will be with us for all time

And smile on how we tried, ‘oft slipping, still to climb

The steepest mountains to our final goal sublime.

But, if I can live a life from which all bad deeds are hurled

Back to hell. Then may  I truly say, with all hope unfurled,

I paid for all  my sins and so all is well with the world.

AWE

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

NOT LONG NOW


1st of three poetry prompts based on famous quotes, this inspired by my wife. In September 1914 at the start of WW1 10,000,000  Britons said ” It will be over by Christmas”. Here goes.

 

 

NOT LONG NOW

The journey had been long and hot

Both their animals could barely trot,

He smiled, saying to his pretty wife,

Who was also carrying another life

For she was pregnant too, poor lass, 

“Mary! It will be over by Christmas”

 

Anton Wills-Eve

 

 

 

RESERVED FOR ALL OF US


<a href=”https://dailypost.wordpress.com/dp_prompt/honorific/”>Honorific</a&gt;

the person we  all have to choose

RESERVED FOR ALL OF US

my world has closed its door

and thrown away the key.

Jacqueline was my everything,

as slowly I watched her die.

she took all meaning, love, and

happiness away from me,

in agony for both of us, I watched her

leave this life. God, why?

she did no wrong, unless to share

her love was too great a sin.

but in it I shared. And I was the seducer,

so why punish her?

the cancer, as it ate away her beauty

and wrinkled her silken skin,

was evil. It must have been,

to destroy beauty so radiant and rare.

I need my Jacqueline so much

I would gladly my own life cease

if doing so would reunite us.

but that’s a question I cannot even ask.

I pray, depressed and tortured as I am,

for her soul’s eternal peace.

but suicide could part us for

eternity; a truly pointless task.

it was her pleading eyes as she

fought the pain, trying to raise a smile,

that hurt me most. Please tell me why.

just nineteen. What did she do?

some say I shall in time forget.

what sort of mind, for even a little while,

could lose sight of her beseeching plea,

to end her life, asking me too

to give a fatal dose, saying sorry,

knowing I could not carry the Cross

of taking another human life.

she raised her face to say goodbye

one last time. I kissed her as her

humanity ebbed away. I felt the loss

so painfully, I could barely kiss

her happy face, while leaving her to die.

in my grief I do not know

if I eased her pain and killed her too.

I can’t blame myself if I did.

my love was stronger than my will.

my heart will never mend. Or,

if it does, I know I will not be

the same grief-stricken, broken

man, who today, on a nearby hill,

buried his heart and soul and every

part of him. All he could see

was a girl he loved. No other

mourners impinged upon his sight.

God, you cannot take my loss

away, or return my Jacqueline to me.

But thank you for leaving me to weep

alone, each day and night.

Anton Wills-Eve

OUR VICTORY


In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Re-springing Your Step.”

               OUR VICTORY

I left my dying fiancee’s bed

I wandered lost down lanes that led

To moments of unimaginable dread

That all I loved would soon be dead.

God use my loss as to You she sped,

Please hold her soul in hands that bled

So every tear she had ever shed

And every prayer she had ever said

Would lead her finally to be wed

To our holy victory in Your Godhead!

Anton Wills-Eve

Beyond My Understanding


Today’s reflection is a poem.

          Beyond My Understanding

I wonder what Heaven will be like?

Happy and holy, with God on his throne,

Smiling as he counts all the good souls

He’s created to love as His own.

But how could they be anything but loving,

For He couldn’t create anything bad?

And as each of us watches Him judge us

How could we want him, through us, to be sad?

For that would mean some souls could be satanic

And there might be some sins that can’t be forgiven.

But because God’s goodness is total,

Each heart or mind, can’t on seeing Him,

Wish to be anything but shriven?

I just can’t believe such a good God created

Souls so wicked he’d have to send them to hell.

Because if His love for us is not overrated

How could he sound our eternal death knell?

Dear God.

If you love me,

In your mercy,

Do tell!!

God’s reply

“You may have heard of Satan or Lucifer

An angel with the power to corrupt so well

That he thinks he can spoil the souls I make

So, they’ll have to spend forever in hell.

He sits by his fiery furnace, 

Flapping his satanic wings

Waiting all day for sinners,

Who’ve done the wickedest things.

Deeds so awful, I’ll banish them on judgement day

But when they see Me they

Just kneel and weep and pray.

Now this moves me to tears,

So I forget what they’ve done

And I bless them and forgive every one.

Poor Satan sits in his hell

Feeling lonely and sad.

He can’t understand where the sinners are,

They really were so terribly bad.

So I’ve sent him this note, to remind him

That nobody’s too naughty for me.

“Give up your tempting mate, you’re losing.

Come up to Heaven and join us for tea”.

Anton Wills-Eve