Charites

This is a sestina poem. Check wikipedia for a definition.

I know many, still only three
stay in my mind. They know Grace
like few others. If beauty
is truth, then their work is mirth,
and it always brings good cheer.
They lend their gifts to serve.

And I know who they serve-
the Lord Who's one in three.
Hosanna! I hear them proudly cheer.
Co-heirs of boundless grace,
I'm driven to their mirth;
smiles that sing Creation's beauty.

first we meet beauty
as she fixes food she won't eat, yet will serve,
and coyly engages in sarcastic mirth.
she works until three,
then passes unbelief into future grace.
tired, but brings the same side-smile cheer.

In a blur you'll see good cheer
set up by another style of beauty.
We'd all be better off if we knew the grace
it takes to silently serve.
She could be the leader of the three,
if selflessness did not multiply her mirth.

Finally you might miss mirth,
since she's always out there sharing cheer.
She plays every position of the three.
Big heart, she laughs, un-ambitious beauty-
that's the kind of spirits they serve;
what else would you expect from Grace?

There are no demands from grace,
the only thing with no strings, gives mirth
to the lips of one receiving a gift. They serve
not because they seek, but because their cheer
is tied to the One who formed beauty
through death, and fulfilled it by day three.

The Three Graces-
Aglaea: Beauty, Euphrosyne: Mirth,
Thalia: good cheer, and humbly they serve.

You're good woman, I'm good man

OK, only, like, a month late. I just saw Spiderman 3.
I wrote this about a character from Spiderman 2 right when it came out, and (hooray!) she showed up in the third!
Enjoy.


Ursula

She's thin like a rose stem
and me, bare-handed, pulling weeds
I feel her slide sharp under my skin.
That gold-green stare,
as she turns her blondeness from the oven,
knows more heat than the stove's redhead flames.

She offers her simple passion on a plate:
Chocolate cake made for me,
and a silent, tall glass of milk
thankful to be emptied.
Her Chanel skin glows
into my breath.

If promises were crackers, she would be fat.
Lanky and awkward as any femme fatale,
Ursula Ditkovich lives in some
old New York low-rent high-rise,
therefore, she doesn't matter.

Despite the everyday regrets of heart,
these thorns are not painful.
Spidey decides
that for once he cannot wemble.
That copper-curled girl is forgotten
as he holds his true heroine.