Banishment Is Bliss

Photo courtesy of Donald Lindsey

Banished from the Garden

I was banished from the garden
for digging up the basil plants
and throwing them into the fire.
A temporary exile, but my heart
was pierced, and my guilt, heavy.

Such an addictive Asian herb,
the "Tulsi" in Hindi diction 
(Sacred Basil), pungent and sweet, 
should be banished instead of me.
What herb deserves such adoration?

"Such a wonderful Italian herb," 
my food aficionado friends say.
But au contraire, it was liberated 
by the Italians, who paired it 
with garlic, tomato sauce and thyme,

olive oil and rosemary and lemon,
finished with a refined Cabernet.
I blame the South Philly Italians,
the friends you gave me, who glorified
this ancient herb, and so I burned it.

To honor God . . . .

Copyright © Donald Lindsey
All rights reserved
July 2, 2019   



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ADVENT 2018

Advent begins Sunday, December 2nd, and we’re celebrating Christ the God-Man who came to save those with whom he is well pleased. Please read on to hear about his birth in a free verse poem titled “Light of the Living.” 


LIGHT OF THE LIVING

Mary's water breaks,
God shuffles his feet,
and light beckons
from the birth canal.
The child
arrives in grandeur.
Angels appear
before shepherds.
They announce:
“Glory to God 
in the highest,
and on earth 
peace among those
with whom he is pleased!”

The Heavens
and its inhabitants
strike the hallelujah chorus:
"In Israel's darkest days,
Her promised Savior,
is here: Emmanuel!
God with us."
And two millennium later,
still, we sing
and praise
His holy name.

The Death of Ectoplasm

The Death of Ectoplasm

In my dream this epoch battle rages
between angels and demons. My mom,
is Mother Goose. She barks and barks
at my dad, who is Jack Sprat.
They are fighting over me and my siblings,
whether we should be fed to the Ectoplasm,
or simply turned over to Beezlebub.
The demons race for the high ground,
my parents take up the rear. Angels
reach the peak first and blow the shofar,
preparing for a bloodbath. The demons,
already frightened by the trumpets, see
that the angels are not human-like,
and begin falling like flies.
Michael and Gabriel
execute all the Ectoplasm.
I see Michael staring into my face, longing
to understand the spirit in me. I snap to,
and I'm relieved that my dream
is a vision. The sky is not actually falling,
and I will not
be fed to the Big Bad Wolf.

© by DB Lindsey
11/23/2018
All Rights Reserved






















Anishinaabe

Anishinaabe

My name is "Anishinaabe," created 
from nothing interesting,
until Gitche Manitou cut out my heart, 
gave me a new one,
and now I walk a straight path.   
I was spontaneously selected
by Gitche's mercy and grace
for life abundant, 
but I rebel against it.
I don't know why.

I have a murderous heart,
a tongue of fire,
and a desire to steal Gitche's glory, 
but I want to make him smile,
and I don't know why.

He breathed new life 
into my loathsome soul,
purges my offenses,
and loves me completely,
but why?

He adopted me into his family,
and I call him "Abba,"
daddy, and I'm his child,
and he will never leave me.
This I know that I know that I know,
and I consent to it.     



 


Pavlov’s Dog

Photo courtesy of Molly Lindsey

             

Who Is Pavlov’s Dog?

For starters, do you know about Pavlov?  Ivan Petrovich Pavlov (1849 – 1936) was a Russian born physiologist known for his work in classical conditioning. His work has greatly influenced our understanding of human behavior and learning processes, and he continues to influence the formation of modern behavior therapy.

His contributions have influenced a broad spectrum of fields, from psychology and physiology, to medicine and philosophy, but in popular culture he is well known for his “conditioned reflex” experiments with dogs. Various stimuli would be presented as an antecedent to feeding time, and the dogs would then become conditioned to salivate upon the stimuli presented before food was actually presented.

Hence, the image (above) of my Australian Shepherd, Molly, licking her chops. All we have to do is mention “treat, snack, breakfast, lunch, or supper,” and she begins licking her lips. The other day it made me wonder who Pavlov’s dog was, but then I discovered, he had many dogs! Duh!

Oh well . . . Pavlov and Molly conspired to make me think about who Pavlov’s dog was, which inspired a poem. I hope you enjoy “Pavlov’s Dog.”

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