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+Steven Curtis Lance

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Popular Poetry (Mystery/Suspense)
  1.  Mysterious Love





Sunday Twice Three-Twenty-Seven
by +Steven Curtis Lance

Sunday, April 17, 2005
Rated "PG" by the Author.
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Recent poems by +Steven Curtis Lance
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           >> View all 2,400

"I remember that November when my mother closed her eyes / She would not have me lie here as she had to but would have me rise"


Sunday Twice Three-Twenty-Seven

I

Sunday morning three-twenty-seven what do I do now?
I should gather myself and go to Mass later somehow
But it is so late now it is early it is too late

Later than anybody knows that is just how it goes

Nobody knows I have a date which I must keep with fate
It is too late it is later than anybody knows
She asked me not to be bitter against her but why wait?

No time like the present to hate now as she rubs my nose
In how happy she is with the one who bought and paid for
What she sells him now they are happy who could ask for more?

When she has used him up she will throw him away like me

Now he lives in a haze but then he will live in a daze
No difference really except now he thinks he is happy
He should be since for him it is days but for me always

II

I read these words at three-twenty-seven twelve hours later
As I have slept the clock of emptiness around again
There must be more to life than nightmares memories and pain

What do I do now? I climb up and out of this crater

Out of this nightmare inscape out of this barren dreamscape
Out there the sun is shining and soft distant voices sing
Three-thirty Mass is starting I can hear the bright bells ring

I remember that November when my mother closed her eyes
She would not have me lie here as she had to but would have me rise
Totus tuus sum as I return a broken heart for offering

+Steven Curtis Lance



Copyright MMV +SCL

+Steven Curtis Lance
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Reviewed by Peter Gardner 4/19/2005
An extremely sad, almost tragic poem.I know those empty nights when one tries to write, to think, and only comes up with pain and longing. Have hope, and remember a higher power. Thank you, Peter
Reviewed by Jerry Bolton (Reader) 4/18/2005
Naw, Elieen, hate is good. It is that overwhelimg reason that some even bother getting out of bed every morning. Hate forever is not good, you need to know when to stuff it in hour back pocket.
Reviewed by jude forese 4/17/2005
excellent poem! an inspired read ...
Reviewed by E T Waldron 4/17/2005
Intriguing poetry. Well written! Hate is never an option! To waste energy on hate is to cheat the time we have for love.
Eileen
Reviewed by Bonnie Torrente 4/17/2005
Lovely writing Steve,
I enjoyed reading this piece.

Love, Bonnie



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