No Pockets in My Garments
With no pockets in my garments
I am bound to leave this world.
I'm going to the Kingdom
where I'm the Kings wayward girl.
We've had a strong thing goin' on now
for a real long time.
Once and accountant to that Fiddler,
I am become His laughing Bride.
Well, I won't be goin' without you
because you know that ain't the way.
The King doth wait eternally
for all who've gone astray.
He's a real mench like no other:
His patience has no end.
He will lift you up on Eagle's wings;
Your broken heart He'll surely mend.
Now we're all goin' to the Kingdom.
Our only choice in this is "When".
You can choose to hate
and languish,
or you will the world befriend.
For the Kings so loves His children
that He'll never turn away,
and when you come into the Kingdom
your comin' home to your own
wedding day.
Don't need no pockets in my garments,
Love is all that with me flies.
It's only Real if its Eternal,
so Love is all I leave behind.
They can't tax it.
They can't steal it.
It doth not rot nor oxidize.
The more you give it,
the more you have it.
Love is the treasure of The Wise.
Yeah, we're all goin' to the Kingdom.
Our only choice in this is "When".
You can choose to hate
and languish,
or you will the world befriend.
For the Kings so loves His children
that He'll never turn away,
and when you come into the Kingdom
your comin' home to your own
wedding day.
Callaghan Grant 2010
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: May 2013
About this poem:
After the death of a friend who was also a song writer and singer, this set of lyrics popped into my head, along with a tune, while I was thinking of my departed friend "Mr. James". I felt like he was singing it to me.
Comments (9)
With no pockets in my garments
I am bound to leave this world
Very Nice Poem.
Meaningful
Like most of what "I write", this poem/song percolated at the back of my mind for a few days, without me spending any conscious time constructing it, and then it sprung from the recesses of my mind pretty much fully formed with a tune as well. Because this is the way "my writing" (at least with poetry and songs) happens, I never feel like "I" have written them. It's more like being a radio and picking up on what is already out their floating in the cosmos waiting for someone to hear it.
This is NOT the way writing fiction happens for me. The series I am currently working on started as I described above but then required massive editing. I find the best time to write is just after sleeping for at least a couple of hours. For a few hours just after I waken I am not quite centered in the world and my emotions are very volatile. That's not to say that I get angry or anything. It's just that I'm emotionally "vulnerable" because I am not so much "in my mind" as "in my heart" so I am easily emotionally moved. As a consequence, when I am working on a fiction project, I sleep and write in 4 to 6 hour shifts as much as life circumstances will permit: Sleep 2 to 4 hours and get up and write for 2 to 4 hours and then do a few chores and go back to sleep and then get up and write again. This practice seems to leave my mind in its optimum creative state. It does NOT facilitate a social life though.
Of course, that just means I really appreciate all the more your feedback and being able to contribute something for the enjoyment of others.
Walk in the light.
The Dark Man.
Like yourself, I tend to keep to the shadows. This for a few reasons:
1)I Am: my own light.
2)You cannot see what lurks in the dark from outside in the light and I'd rather know who/what is lurking.
3)No one bothers with whatever/whomever they do not see (because it is in shadow) and so I feel "safer" there.
4)It facilitates watching those so afraid of the dark that they keep to the light where I can observe them being their unfettered selves.
5)Scary things attract me. (I know. It's a peculiar reaction.)
I used to run away from what frightened me. Then I figured out that most anyone can outrun me (and that learning to run away only ever leads to running faster and more often) and so I learned to stand and confront. Fear is the only bodily reaction with which I am uncomfortable. The remainder of the emotions come and go and require nothing of us and they bless us for having been at all. Fear demands a response and, by confronting, only two outcomes are possible: I vanquish what frightened me (Fear stops.) or what frightened me kills me (Fear stops.)
Either way, I "win" because I have not recoiled from my own "Truth" and abandonment of one's Truth/Troth is the only "Real Death".
All that aside, I walk in the light of my own benevolence and, being entirely benevolent, I tap my own power and am invulnerable.
Now that you've precipitated all of that, perhaps I'll get to convey a poem about that sometimes soon~God willing.
"Thy Will be done in me."
Callaghan, An Faolchu Gaelach,
Whom doth The Grail serve.
Sophia