Beat beat beats
The Tom Tom of the drums
Tom yom Tom Tom Tom Tom
Sounding beats the drum
9/17/25
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr.2025
Beat beat beats
The Tom Tom of the drums
Tom yom Tom Tom Tom Tom
Sounding beats the drum
9/17/25
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr.2025
step …
across the sill
this haunted house
walls of torn paper, dripping
crumbling plaster ceilings
hanging like rotten vines on a gaunt
and bony frame
dark, broken windows, the
empty eyes that stare -
once aglow with
the bright from within
life and light … and love
made a home
until …
just an ember -
one flame of your kiss -
and it was gutted
burned raw and ruined
with no thought to what filled these rooms
or graced the facades
or warmed the meager marrow …
now all phantoms
howling in the barren halls
sodden and saddened
for sake of the abandoned -
the threadbare -
dilapidated … desolate
welcome to the
vacancy …
your fool.
Copyright © 2023 Gregory Richard Barden
( artwork is a number two pencil sketch of the cottage from “Summer of ‘42” by the poet )
for fun we wore a blindfold
but clammy fears left heart cold
in silence thought veil thinned out
light restored, erased was doubt
Sometimes with increased wealth
We have to give much more of ourselves
as life happens we react
then sense consciousness contract
which is good because we learn
to overcome ego’s burn
though life seems like a circus
we are here for a purpose
and when love’s flame is steady
to meet God we are ready
Desperation, draw me not like magnets pull
But once again let saneness possess me in full
Do not ravage me like a loin upon its prey
Block not the seeds of thoughts that come to save the day
Like limbs of a tree in the presence of a gale force wind
The heavy weight of thy encumbrance makes me bend
As a cookie being crushed underneath a fisted hand
Sapping my power, I become a broken man
Hope beyond my greatest self, suddenly appears
Dashing all desperate thoughts, releasing all my fears
Focused like a camera’s lens, my eyes see a way
Attitude and mindful thought, must have their say
Ideals forming one by one, possibilities
Desperation lost this time, healed is my choice of realities
Constance's contest, "Dream Within A Dream". Poem written: 09/14/2025
Falling, falling, gliding, boom~ land
My dream overtook me
Wonder enveloped through night's arms
Taking me home to see
A gentle breeze becomes the muse
Through the endless dark night
Having a dream within a dream
Moonbeams lead to the light
A wand was weaving stars
Their radiant glow kissed like dew
Inspiring my soul's flow
Reach, climb, touch, grasp hold, a breakthrough
Then the silent dawn cracked
I embraced my dreams in quick flight
Results being gob smacked
Now that dew adorns earth's soft face
Dreams revealed my unfinished trip
A journey needs to be taken
A trip within places
That sometimes disgraces
Those silver threads stitched hopes and dreams
Are tattered with broken spaces
Gentle whispers weave light
Inspiring a poet's destined place
From dreams, sunbeams lead to new light
Winds of honest scented
insistence glided my wings
through life’s many dramas.
Raw breezes fragrantly
touched my unsure skin
with soothing perfumes
promising my faith was
not errantly consumed.
I thought, go until I had it,
not go until the path quit
without signs I had tried.
I imagined a target future
sat for my eventual,
precisely aimed, bullseye.
That’s a notion I did covet,
even leaned it towards perfect.
If bottled, wind's cologne could
release sachets of peace to
waft serene blends upon and
through times of disquietude.
unknown to him
I watched from the shadows of
rocks far below
he, dancing like a scarecrow atop the
cliff edge, limbs at unnatural
angles, broad grin of
chiseled teeth gleaming in the wan light of
the moon, looking up to spit
blood at its face
making sadistic biting gestures
almost as if he could taste
the pale blue beams ... or nip
them off, thus …
maybe he could, this
Demon of Lies, for the darkest magic
was his faith and forte
most any miracle, his, tho' cursed
(as payment for his powers)
to never take his
own form, wearing instead
the sinews of those who
sold their souls for desire and deceit …
yes, I watched intently as he
spun his grotesque jig
cackling with impiety, for a NEW flesh
hung loose upon his skeleton
and its face ...
was my own.
Copyright © 2019 Gregory Richard Barden
( photographic art created copyright-free by the poet with GALA AI software )
Find the source wherefrom thoughts arise
To which end, our will we must bend
That in silence, each breath sunrise
Melding with the void, we ascend
First things first, this truth we must know
Find the source wherefrom thoughts arise
By whose power does our heart glow
Where lies the light that lights our eyes
Life script spun seems a web of lies
We feel we’re in a lucid dream
Find the source wherefrom thoughts arise
In repose atop love’s moonbeam
Staid silence seems the only way
So we cease to weigh, judge and size
Holding patterns of old at bay
Find the source wherefrom thoughts arise
Ego undress, negating fear,
mirroring dark desire,
that in stillness, as bliss beats spear,
we ignite our soul’s fire.
We are living light caged,
by thought constructs upstaged,
until by God’s love paged.
Our life’s a mess ~
Ego undress
A Meeting With Amitabha
On my way to meet with Amitabha
The Buddha of infinite light,
I ponder my life, my place in the world
Its trajectory, and my mortality.
Who is it that dies? What is it that goes on?
And where is this infinite light not found?
We all die, but how we do it
Makes all the difference.
They say how we live is how we die,
And so if this gives any solace
As we live our life, directly knowing what that is,
We get a glimpse what our death will be like.
The beauty though of being alive
While we are alive
Is we can always change its trajectory.
And so I head out to meet the Buddha Amitabha
As he sits resting, ever peaceful,
In his infinite light.
(9/13/25)
ocean
curtains
torn bed
salt scents
my eyes
rip tide
footprints
shore fixed
water
spiller
seagulls
cry, girl
she churns
the surf
I …
don’t look
for myself within
your eyes,
I look for
the reflection of
your grace
in …
mine.
Copyright © 2024 Gregory Richard Barden
( self-portrait photographic art taken and filtered by yours truly at Prisma / Lightroom )
Specific Types of Introspection Poems
Definition | What is Introspection in Poetry?
Poems Related to Introspection
contemplation, reflection, soul searching, scrutiny, meditation, rumination, egoism, self absorption, deep thought, self examination, brooding, introversion, heart searching, self observation, self questioning,