The ship arrived surrounded by the dew,
his past she carried on her seaward tracks,
across-the-board, the skyline turned up dark,
- a stork he was, comradely to her crew.
(Thus, curious, he stood upon the moors,
projecting epitome of their rejoice,
and stern, the sea-waves' hum repressed their voice,
enduring memory the dusk allures.)
A clever stork, with harbors in cahoot,
side-gazed for the sunken to discern,
while apt, the sea-men deftness and concern,
applied the coloring of nightly soot.
The dusk abraded, then, the ship's details,
the numbness of the gray was still; she stared
as his persistent, learning eyes had paired
with mind's perseverance, head-ropes and brails.
The boats quizzical, around him tripp'd,
loose wooden cradle-coffins-like, astray,
companions lost beyond the clouds' array,
as signalizing waves, on moorings whipp'd.
( Their sacrosanct ascent designed the stairs,
for spotless angels to walk upon the blue,
like then, the stork recited what was true,
- a dark night ship, for his bird-story cares.
And then they fled to skies - two passing glows
that cut through distances, in ardent Spring
a song for wanderers, harmonic link,
- pure emeralds the shoreline-noon bestows. )
What foolishness of storks invites the ship,
stray souls to marry in his darkened phase,
meanwhile three smoking ebon-funnels praise
our wraiths' long flight on everlasting trip?
© G. Venetopoulos, 09/25/2012, All rights reserved
The poem has never entered a contest before.
Sponsor: gautami phookan
Contest Name: One of your best
Ideal's the emptiness amid stone scapes;
Invited souls - two dancers times enfold;
Invoke the past, rose thorns redraw its shapes
the years sustain recalls of feelings' mold.
Recite old scripts - the weather's voice is cold,
an audience of ghosts their steps extol
the shrines remember them on timeless role,
Adventive cadence is their final goal.
Consorted on the broken glass, they bleed
their lives ascended amid rains of red
maintained and held their words, old ends impede
somehow the birds forgot to sing and fled.
The runnel wraiths of emptiness out-traced
existences' odd trails and righteous shed
where acquaintances devoid embraced
- their solitude; and in the woods winds fled.
Rose-feverish their tips caress time's strings;
and dithered silence shines her splendid glow,
lone glances coil on tungsten glowing rings,
and abstinent redraw - their tears redraw.
© 02-24-2013, G. Venetopoulos, All rights reserved
(Surreal - Elegy)
God is always love
Forever seek the kingdom;
Praise the creator
Keep giving what you can give
Please endure until the end
Protecting the meek ones earth
Watching over us
Helping us to cope with life
Comforted with hope and trust
When you find rhythm
You find your hearts inner core
Celebrate the times
Make them better than before
Reminisce and dance all night
In deep thought
About things of
I wonder aloud
Solutions not clear
Which is always
Tied to many
I stop now—
And look heavenward
Choices are difficult
I’m staying focused.
Use my intuition
Request divine help
Take your pick
My soul’s focus
First and foremost
God speaks silently
Do it now!
Gary Bateman, Copyright © All Rights Reserved,
(January 27, 2015) (Accentual Meter)
A listening sky overhead,
hears whispers of our words, unsaid.
And though, sometimes, we feel alone,
that mere existance matters not,
or that one life will be forgot,
a chain links us to the unknown.
A listening sky overhead,
hears whispers of our words, unsaid.
We are a part of earth and sky,
as one with nature, when we die.
And though, sometimes, we feel alone,
a chain links us to the unknown.
A listening sky overhead,
hears whispers of our words, unsaid.
For Dr. Ram's Contest: Sonnetino Rispetto "Respect"
All that I had, just yesterday
Has suddenly, been taken away
Me yes me, a foolish man of clay
Suddenly I have so much to say
When instead, I'd be wise to pray
Why oh why, me oh my
Take me now I want to die
I liked it better, when I was perched on high
My wings were strong, I loved to fly
I was given much, I gave no thanks
I sat upon lush river banks
My ship majestic, I watched as it sank
Now this world seems cold and dank
My cup was full it over flowed
Yet gratitude I barely showed
Instead of narrow, I chose wider road
My love of self it barely slowed
If only I had seen more clear
I wonder if I'd now be here
Feeling alone and filled with fear
Oh please dear God, I need you near
I heard him say, I'm sorry son
Your life is over, now it's done
You chose your god, I wasn't the one
Love of plenty and pleasured fun!
So down to Hell my soul is brought
A place of pain both cold and hot
My insides squeezed inside a knot
Now what I treasured doesn't mean a lot
From this nightmare, I thankfully awake
My soul and being begin to shake
Please Lord forgive me, my mistake
Help me learn to give, instead of take!
I try to be thankful every day
With God's help, stay on the narrow way
It's not about me and that's okay
Vision much clearer, when to Jesus I pray.
This poem was inspired by my brother Roy.
He sent an email that asked "What if you only woke up with what you said
thanks for yesterday?" what a great question!
I am not these thoughts I share...
I am not this body I wear....
I can't be limited in any way
I can't be bound in prisons
Of flesh and blood –
I can enter into your body...
and still be who I am....
I know to be true.
I seem to be but a spark of my own attention
just one point of focus
the seer who sees the all
untouched, unblemished by your blows.
When the wind blows down this mountain
stark and cold
I shiver not
for I am warmed from the fire within.
It warms me, strengthens me, cheers me,
and leads me on majestically.
Sometimes I forget who I really am...
being caught up in the emotions of the game...
I forget that I can fly
and everywhere is my home.
Yet, I am the calming factor...
the witness of my life.
I know not my own name....
but today –
I am behind green eyes.
I beheld an unquenchable thirst
for the knowledge of hidden things
a life-long, never ending search
for the deeper meaning of withheld wings.
Truths known to the Scattered Brotherhood
but I heard the voice before I understood
and judgment came upon me in a day
when fearfully I turned the voice away.
All else fell like rain
a cold, hard, piercing rain.
Old Soul ~
ages old ~
rock of ages ~ sing.
Violence and betrayal
and misbegotten things.
Fallacy and fancy
grand, hidden, occultist wings,
a soiled rosary, an upturned ting.
The prince's meal is spilled
and a million sacrificial lambs
washed, woolly and white as snow
wandering outcasts in the outlands.
In the silence of stilled refrain
a still, small voice is heard
in the solar plexus direction is gained
and aged into the word.
Spiritual ears to hear.
Spiritual eyes to see.
If you let their faces scare you
fear will drag you to your knees.
"I, I am He who comforts you."
Safe from the shadows of night
and in the midst of grand illusion
you have planted your trough,
secured your plight.
Old Soul ~
ages old ~
rock of ages ~ sing.
Oh, Blissful Ignorance
washed and woolly and white your wings
that cross you carry
I meander through this maze called world,
seeing darkness everywhere, even in the
bright desert light, my soul ripped by doubt
and fear, and utter loneliness, only slaved
by a sudden wave of love, or a flicker of hope.
Foreshadowing the dusk, appeared immense,
magnanimous the skylines sent the ship,
its blackened sight embossed the thought and sense
of sailors that imagined its long trip.
The ship's black smoke ascended to the skies
from supercilious tall funnels, smog
bestowed its sacrificial offing size
to sovereign Gods that lived inside the fog.
In front of us, the ship's displacement thrilled
approaching, hence, magnificent the moors;
Her Soul, the Sea, and eulogy that killed,
relentlessly enticed, through dark allures.
The night descended when the ship's steel gaze
examined curious and measured me,
proposing wedlock and a fate of blaze,
my competence, demanding, in the sea.
Across the Straits, young Lady Sadness kissed
with ripping cold my twenty years and eyes,
resembling Her Soul, the Sea, amidst
the Northern winds that howled and life's demise.
© 10-15-2013, G. Venetopoulos, All Rights Reserved
I am the hypocritical Christian.
I say I follow Christ,
But I'm still consumed by my demons.
I go to church on Sunday,
But I refuse to invite someone back.
I want to serve on mission,
But I'm too afraid to act.
They think I read The Bible,
But I just fall asleep in it.
They think I'm positivity and smiles,
But underneath I'm death and addictions.
They think I'm clean and pure,
But I'm broken and mistaken.
I say I'm not worthy of His love,
But Jesus will never let me be forsaken.
I pray long prayers,
But inside they're empty repetition.
It might look as if my faith is strong,
But my core is too easily shaken.
I say the things I'm supposed to say,
But don't follow His actions or obey.
I speak the truth the church wants to hear,
But deep inside on matters I don't know what to believe.
I walk in shame as if I'm not good enough
To be loved by God and saved through Christ,
But there is nothing I could ever do to earn His peace;
It's a free gift.
Now forgiven, changed, and released.
Thank You God,
Thank You Jesus,
Thank You Holy Spirit!
In Jesus' Holy Name,
"A Spiritual Sojourn"
sheer white wings pivoted dreaming soul to pure Throne of Grace
captivated by pink cotton candy clouds to gaze beauty
a spiritual sojourn encompassed taste of Divine Love.
*For Rick Parise SIJO.
As I wake
Another day of nothing
Grey skies and daily rituals
A mugging here and there
Smog surrounds me, it eats me inside
Insects devour, life drains, ebbs, flows to death
Meaningless is life
Love simply prolongs ones agony
On a journey with no purpose
I assure you there is no God
Show me a deity with such cruelty
I dare you, for there is none
Life is a random act of death
To become us all
Do not try and tell me different
Intelligence is fates way to call us fools
For whatever we choose to believe
Mayans were ancients
Deceived by the sun and moon
They sacrificed their young
On the pyramids of doom
Today, the sun rose
Tonight the moon shall greet my tired eyes
Into a slumber, a blissful sleep
I shall dream of the heavens and their gods
I held in my arms an angel
All of a year or so old
Her arms outstretched, in blind love
Knowing I would catch her dreams and breathe her smiles
The devil that I am
I could not resist
To feed to her all my happiness
Her little hands grasped, as her eyes flirted for more food
I have some words of wisdom to bestow upon all you mortals now
Any court jester who tells you there is no god
They have not met Maya
I am so blessed, that I have
Notes: I had this in the works as a completely different poem. That afternoon I took care
of Maya ( 18 months ) and her brother Timmy ( five ) Afterwards we went to a restaurant for a snack, and Maya in my arms was in heaven eating her onion rings !! Both Timmy and Maya are such little angels, that would brighten up anyone's days, and when you see how beautiful children are, you realize the deeper meanings of life!
I am Reality’s angel
resting on the broad shoulders of discovery
the truth feeds darkness and engulfs its target
ideas and concepts in turn become meaningless to you
there is a creator of all things
He is just and patient
many still have fallen into the masses of shadow
wrapped in their own filthy idols of philosophy
I have seen grown men fall like rose petals
and weaklings rise into unjust leaders
forever the follower of furtive evil
dominating only to remain inferior
the most important answers lie in the unseen regions
where no sense can fully give assurance
the mind that so many unreasonably twist and turn
grows weary because of the distance it must take
and truth be told the distance is not what frustrates
it is knowing we are seeking something far
that could very possibly not exist,
that our minds can twist into theoretical, idealistic nonsense
it is knowing all we really think we know
and yes—even a lie
all that has been written thus far rests under my wings
under the warmth in which you refuse to feel
can you believe in me—
though I am completely unseen?
how much more difficult would it be to see
Tell me of your peace.
Let it tell your story now
Of trials and tribulations, a tale not of dreams
Weary from a journey of self-discovery
My child, know the comfort in your peace
You feel hope in this familiar place
As it gently sloughs the pain away
Tell me of your peace
In which we all are blessed and free
Search throughout your soul sweet child
Peer not within your cluttered mind
Look out to rest your tired eyes but do not let them see
Solace found strewn upon daily thoughts is fleeting at it's best
Lasting merely moments, in untouched souls a true peace
Oh yes! You'll know when you arrive but only you will know
The world will melt away as a candle left under the blazing sun
Away away, until you feel home again, an unguided familiar scene
An innocence once lost is restored, all sins suddenly forgiven
Soaking this in with relucant ease,
Breathe it deep with a slow release
Take it in, delight in details you discover
Be calm here child, please have no fear, I am here
You are safe in this place of yours, no hurt no tears
We share not the same peace, no no
Unique to each of us, yet stranger to none
Trust in more than what you see, know beauty is within reach
We share this unspoken bond of freedom from ourselves
Please young one, listen closer now
I say, leave it all behind you love, it will only weigh you down
Cleanse yourself of careless words and careful lies
I know you're weary, let go of all you carry
Don't be afraid, here you are burden free
Trust in you, blessed one, it's easier than you believe
Sweet child, tell me now if you see
Peace resting deep within
Waiting for you
For you to let it be
Why aren’t we happy?
What is it in the most of us?
We are not how we should be
We should be like a singing bird
Who boldly, in the trees
Sings his song when fear is done
His life just flows along
He only knows the dance of life
So he just sings his song.
And yet we humans live our lives
Enfolded in our fears
Glorifying in the sad
And making this quite clear
As we always speak of doom and gloom
And watch it on TV
And always live our lives in fear
Is this the way it should be?
If only each would take a look
And see just what we be
We never see the flowers grow
Or let our hearts be free
Maybe it’s time to see the truth
Of what this life could be
If we look at life without the fear
And live with mystery.
6 August 2013 @ 1908hrs.
The shadows creep and faintly in the sky,
stars begin to come to us with gentle light.
And once more our fancy doth take flight
with man's eternal question " oh God, why?
What place have we when then we die,
railing against the unknown we still fight.
Often that query comes unbidden in the night
as the time of our mortality marches nigh.
Now into the depths of sky man sails
on wings of faith, answers cloaked in mystery.
We beat our breast in anguish, try to understand
the plan that lurks there behind the starry veil.
And so it has been given through all history
that perhaps answers are written only in shifting sand...
Scores of struggling lives
Searching green fields
Implanted splendid ideas
Partial distortions imposed
Multiple thoughts ahead
Others mislead and inspired
Savor a basket full of fruits
Wisdom earned with like minds
Earthling's greatest dream.
There is a spirit that watches over you
In the daylight hours, and nightime too.
You may not think that they are there
But there is a way to make you aware.
I learned the name of my angel a long time ago
Because I was interested and I wanted to know.
His name is "Maximus" and is with me here
To learn of his presence once made me fear.
Because what you do is watched all the day
The angel keeps tabs, God finds out that way.
I guess you think I'm being naive
Trust your faith, if you believe.
If you want to know your angel's name
There is a way to find out which is no game.
Say a prayer for three days in a row
And after each time ask him to reveal his name to you.
If you believe in him he will tell you true
If not, he may be silent to you.
I know of others who have tried this I can say
Some, have learned the names of their angels this way.
When you pray for their name do not think it absurd
Some, I know, will hear that singular word.
It won't come as a shout from heaven on high
But rather as a whisper, when your angel is nigh.
These spiritual beings are here for us all
Sometimes they wait just to here us call.
And when you do wouldn't if be grand
If you knew the spirit's name...who behind you stands!
Try it and see if you think I'm fooling around
Be honest with yourself with both feet on the ground.
As someday that spiritual angel you will greet
Wouldn't it be nice to be on a "first name" basis when you meet?
And if you try but do not hear their name
Keep on trying because your conviction was lame.
I know many will think I'm crazy with this
But knowing my angel's name has brought comfort and bliss.
So try it yourself and see if in kind
If your angel will speak to you...they really don't mind.
Because then a dialogue with them you can share,
Even if they never speak again, you'll know...they're there.
A Mother’s Love…
How precious is the love
of a mother’s heart!
Even as a child… It’s there from the start.
A mother’s love knows
no boundary or limit.
It’s often shown by how
much the mother gives it!
Whether her children are
young or growing old…
And whatever circumstances
in life may unfold…
Her love is continually
a solid foundation…
That can’t be removed, torn or shaken.
Her love is what is
a “guiding force…”
Even if her children’s lives
stray “off course.”
I’m thankful for the love
my mother’s given…
It’s surely influenced
the way I’ve been livin’!
To all of our mothers across
our great nation…
May we show them our love
Their love has stood and
endured the test of time…
I’m so glad that one of them is MINE!
By Jim Pemberton
The Color Missing
Red, black, and blue are the colors of our work pens. Red is the color of the blood we spill on other people’s mistakes. Blue is the color of the songs we sing on tax forms or pay stubs- every page has a secret melody. Black is the color of the streets we fear most. Black is the color of our signature of approval. Black is the color of our death.
‘But what about the Green pens?’ I ask. They say ‘the ink is too hard to see.’
Manifestations in life come from chosen
application of frequent thoughts in one's mind
Reveals and befalls a person's existence
Resource for combustion the fuel is spirit
This one can learn even if they not humble
All acts come into being through the body
Impulsive are the desires of body
Selfish at times be these acts one has chosen
Passion does carry energy for spirit
yet this life adventure is just one existence
There are many more for the creative mind
This should cause all to pause and be humble
Still those deny that there is a co-existence
carrying on with life never be humble
they all follow the dark path they have chosen
allowing uncontrolled thoughts to run the mind
Reluctantly it does comply the spirit
Paid by his holy sacrifice of body
Unlimited is the source of the spirit
becoming aware of this is to humble
knowing there is more than human existence
Serving only as a vessel the body
placed to carry out the deeds that are chosen
Placing utmost importance on state of mind
Considerations to remaining humble
It provides one with a peaceful existence
thoughtful are all of the decisions chosen
Willing compliant must be the spirit
Stable and balanced at all times is the mind
Righteous and just are the acts of the body
Coming to an understanding in one's mind
Relating all things as is to the body
Ever present to assist is the spirit
a faithful and loyal companion chosen
who steadily remain fixed to be humble
There in part lay a eternal existence
Sought after is a chosen
of mind, body and spirit
A void of Facebook
Creativity dies here...
Sense of humour, elevating our spirits
Musing over the simple things in life, rejoicing at what we find
Imagination stimulated, childlike, seeing the wonders in life
Light heartedness, laughing at one’s self!
Everything as it is meant to be, smiling, enjoying, the gift of life
What Is This Church All About?
Is this church meant for people like me?
Is this where God really wants me to be?
They claim to be filled with God’s spirit.
When it comes to HIS truth... Can they give it?
I’m sure there’s many who come and attend
It’s more than “church on Sunday,” that we must spend!
We must reach out to the lost and the oppressed!
After all, Christ gave us his very best!
May we all preach the gospel and God’s holiness!
And strive to seek his awesome righteousness!
Living for Jesus must be a daily walk and experience!
Not simply based on our “ambitious self appearance.”
God isn’t interested in a denomination or a title…
He wants to know… Do we really believe the Bible?
He’s not interested in the money put in the offering plate.
He wants to know; “Are you ready
to enter heaven’s gate?”
May we strive to serve Jesus with a zeal and passion!
And be filled with his holiness and compassion!
May we serve Jesus from a heart of humbled confession!
And making our commitment to him,
our #1 possession!
“Unless the Lord builds the house.”
They labor in vain that build it!
Let’s seek the power of God!
May his presence completely fill it!!
By Jim Pemberton
Impenitent, deposited her soul before
the convent's calling of redemption turned to prayer,
her covenant, inside the sanctum to implore,
canonical sustains her matin's aubade e'er.
( The ghostly reservation spreads, outside, in air
in harmony and misty dew that nymphs bestow;
Her white and vast Invernal quilt, bequeaths his fare;
man's mountain flight in solitude, becomes a crow. )
The waiting holocaust, impertinent consumes,
abundant insularity, her life in gale,
this holiness' transparency, both souls entombs,
- besought expressions of entreat on holy trail.
Her imperfection is immured inside the hope
distrait is her salvation's route; ascends effused,
in abstinence disporting fates, who dormant grope,
emending consecrated souls that reigns refused.
With uttered sentiments and mindful heed,
cherubic, grants her vows to him and burdened scope,
attentive to his Crucifix, plasticity of mead,
was it the crow's night omen call and skyward lope?
She joins her palms, ex-courtesan and reason's mi're,
perusing her late impudence, in prayer withdraws
by beauty's blessed her holiness, a thorny bri'ar,
Eve christened maid of covenant and crimson flaws.
©11-29-2013, G. Venetopoulos, All Rights Reserved
Sometimes I admire the littlest things
A simple rock. A blade of grass.
They need no future goals, no tax exemptions
They don’t need to go anywhere or be anything
They just are.
Sometimes, especially when I’m reading life insurance policies,
I envy the rocks and the grass
And try to be like them for a moment.
I sit perfectly still and give myself to the wind-
And it whispers in my ear:
And for that moment I don’t need to go anywhere or be anything.
And at the snap of my fingers,
All the complex widgets and gizmos that make up my life
Fold into paper airplanes and fly off in the wind.
May the Love of Jesus Touch You!
May the love of Jesus bless and touch you!
May his presence be with
and uplift you!
May the joys of the love make
And touch you, from your
head to your feet!
May the glory of the lord
be with and keep you!
His majestic power can really touch you!
May the words that he’s spoken,
touch your spirit!
His mercy and salvation…
He freely give it!
May the sweetness of Jesus,
into your life bring!
His righteousness and beauty!
May you take some time
with Jesus in prayer?
How much he loves you!
How much he cares!
By Jim Pemberton 07.28.13
Only light can penetrate the
that resides in the default state
I descend from beta to delta
binaural beats; instantly caught
between frequencies beyond
I absorb amplitudes of acoustic
and I learn to just be earth
Since I am the earth
and because I am of
the one that is the source of its
I've owned the power of
I realize now that I AM because
HE is since I am from that, a
Created in the image of a
and a feeling from the
I tune in to this vibration from
pulse that manipulates
Immersed between 4 and 7
brainwaves halt to a conscious
All chakras are aligned shining
and now my consciousness
begins to reap!
and light begins to penetrate
the harmonious beams
that were already there
constant and always there
is now flooded with sound
that force brainwaves to submit
of omnipresent sound that
and always will be connected to
the Source from which I came
so I extend exponentially
physical time and space
I long to embrace the intensity
of gamma rays
I give way to the coded sounds
that resonate from the inner
and continue to connect
through the binaural beats that
remind me of before
Always familiar but ignored
until found by gaining
knowledge of self
I listen with the intent to excel
while reaping an abundance of
benefits and rewards
It's already yours
Just reach out and grab it
as long as intention and ego is
the universe will correspond
it will deliver a life to you divine
Just listen to the sounds that
were there from before
They will guide to to the
vibration from the core
and it will guide you to connect
directly with the source