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an old oliveoil press rusting at the bottom of a sandy garden

in his occupied territory.

man lying prostrate,

on the soil.


about a weight, a burden, something.

we disciples could not hear clearly,

what with all the muffled explosions

and such.

 this man, this man, he screamed out ‘NOT AS I WILL BUT AS YOU WILL FATHER!’.

but there was no other man there, no father, nothing.

Was this man drunk?

I do not think so.

But he may have drunk some wine



pause in the battle, to hear the cock crow

three times:

faraway strange: sunset, not sunrise.

but roosters had been eaten, long ago

what with the siege and the starvation and whatnot.

I don't know. .

◄ Breath

Easter Sunday Blue ►


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Harry O'Neill

Sun 13th Aug 2017 12:35

I must have missed this first time round, (I`ve been `agonising` a bit myself recently and can`t do much?)

This `take` on the ongoing situations which were part of the evils that Christ was agonising about at that time is very apt in both place and modern reference...(and also the three cock crows !)

Just prior to the actual time of Gethsemane Christ had been the last supper (now there`s a thought)

(roll on the op ?)

A very thoughtful poem

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John Marks

Sun 13th Aug 2017 01:58

Belatedly, you are very kind Cynthia. John

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Cynthia Buell Thomas

Tue 14th Jun 2016 13:00

Brilliant work. I look forward to this catch-up very much. How have I missed you!

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