Learn More

Warren Falcon

Rookie - 239 Points (04/23/52 - xxxx / Spartanburg, South Carolina, USA)

The Year I Almost Became A Catholic by Raul Voz


(translated from the Spanish by Warren Falcon)

The year I almost became a Catholic
5 stars rose from your breasts in Spring.
My nest was a sudden disturbance in blue.

A veil

a floating head

bleeding thorns

adorned your white throat.

I fled from my boat after one
long night of fishing only to
arrive ashore with torn nets
and apparitions upon my knees.

Without will my cursing ceased.

I discovered I was speechless.

I learned to speak with my hands.
Curious circular clouds surrounded
particular heads without logic.

Genuflections strange rearranged
the air in front of my chest while I
sat upon or hid my left hand.

Purple became everything dear.

Roses diminished before your
bare feet treading upon a serpent,
a tourniquet of gold each ankle
entwining.

Virgin stars minus 5 surrounded
your curved shape defiant of robes
meant to convey the holy restraining
in my groin.

Odd collections mounted in the attic
where I retired to cloister and wait.

Leaden pilgrimage up and down pointless
stairs accumulated distance.

My beard became a convention of lepers and bells.


Fingernail parings

clumps of hair

bits of flesh

sacks of ears


all were relics in the making.


I became an accountant listing and numbering each holy scrap.

I tried not to be critical but my eyes lied.

I could not confess except by pencil,
leaving notes and grease stains
for the priest to interpret.

Absolution my hope,
a mute vow was my prosthesis.

Then Spring returned.

My boat sank. All mended nets,
a year's work, were lost.

Nothing to do.

I return to you, a parenthesis in the sea of loneliness.

Each star, each breast, you have removed
in my absence, mourning made permanent,
scars upon your throat oddly fish-shaped.

Astonished, my voice returns, curses then caresses,
withered left hand free to unravel regret nerve for
nerve, the only net worth mending.

I reserve this one strange act from a year of orthodoxy,

to anoint your feet with tears.

I dry them with my hair, your outstretched arms
a beseeching beyond emptiness, your chest barren
but for my hands remembering the uses of prayer,
kisses but murmurs, rumored stars where swollen sails had been.

Submitted: Saturday, October 01, 2011
Edited: Friday, October 05, 2012

Do you like this poem?
0 person liked.
0 person did not like.

Read this poem in other languages

This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.

I would like to translate this poem »

word flags

What do you think this poem is about?

Comments about this poem (The Year I Almost Became A Catholic by Raul Voz by Warren Falcon )

Enter the verification code :

There is no comment submitted by members..

Trending Poets

Trending Poems

  1. Still I Rise, Maya Angelou
  2. Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening, Robert Frost
  3. The Road Not Taken, Robert Frost
  4. I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings, Maya Angelou
  5. Sonnet II: My Heart Was Slain, Michael Drayton
  6. Fire and Ice, Robert Frost
  7. A Dream Within A Dream, Edgar Allan Poe
  8. I Am the Only Being Whose Doom, Emily Jane Brontë
  9. If You Forget Me, Pablo Neruda
  10. Ozymandias, Percy Bysshe Shelley

Poem of the Day

poet Emily Jane Brontë

I am the only being whose doom
No tongue would ask no eye would mourn
I never caused a thought of gloom
A smile of joy since I was born

In secret pleasure - secret tears
...... Read complete »

   

New Poems

  1. The Cry Of The Shadow, Bazi alis Subrata Ray
  2. He Knows No Hospital Gate, Mohamedkhadar Yussuf
  3. I LOST YOU, Sharen Suren
  4. the pleasure of old age, oskar hansen
  5. Reading Elizabeth Bishop's Poem 'One Art', Merton Lee
  6. Iron Road poem, As Fates Convolve, Sambanath Denis
  7. BEYOND DEATH, Michael P. Johnson
  8. Limerick-74, DEEPAK KUMAR PATTANAYAK
  9. Paul Butters Clerihew One, Paul Butters
  10. Ricordare, Colm Keenan
[Hata Bildir]