I am the ring around Saturn
spinning words as particles of ice and dust
with the power to transcend
I am the original chosen to be right here right now
transmitting verbal frequencies
through speaking my thoughts into existence
I am the heir of omnipotence,
born with a direct connection to profound abundance
The one whose words will age, yet still have substance;
since there are no boundaries attached to my pen
I am constant energy
Translating personal experience into imagery
Vulnerable to tyranny,
yet i continue attempting to share some truth
through this abstract language of poetry
I am the core
I am that I am more
I am the Divine Presence that is the Source of my rewards
I am the green you get when you mix too much yellow with the blue
That shade of gold you get when the sun resides into darkness
and when it ascends in the dawn burning dew
I am the transition between the third and fourth dimension of time;
the love you feel when you realize how it feels
I am the poem that is abstractly direct
because I write beyond limits
absorbing frequencies from 3 to 8 hertz
through meditation for several minutes
I am the one bridging the gap between
the analog ascension and the direct connection to spirit
The one who is love
because I am a descendent of it
I am the rhythm that the wind blows
I am the beginning and the ending of stories told
about the universe and how miracles unfold
I hold the power to accept judgement from those who will do just that
Not knowing that I am them in the absolute reality of me
I am knowledge beyond measure because that is my right
So I continue meeting the different parts of me
when I meditate and write
Who am I?
I AM, THAT, I AM
Opened like a morning leaf
exposed beneath the moon,
Resting in the tentacles
of a clouded ink coccoon.
Wringing hands now rest at peace-
the solitude of night,
a lantern in the wilderness
the miracle of flight.
Dancing on the tabletops
or falling from a swing,
is noticing the networking
of every living thing.
Observation is the art
that shows a single frame,
experience will turn to stone
the given and the gained.
If only I can ask the world
To gather all the love
Each person has.
If only I can feel the love
Free of inhibitions in some extent
And share it with everyone.
If only I can be
With the love of yours
So that I can have my last wish.
If you permits me to live and die
Unconditionally with and without you
Oneness reflected indeed.
Christian Love frame
The only need for death to every exist
Was to slay the fictional self
And all the embellishments used to support it
Fear not, Love’s little flock
You will not be set to fly
And then be allowed to fall
To be strong in your Love
Is to inherit the power of God
That now lies dormant in your essence
For your possession of absolute truth
Is a point at which your Love and your reality
Both become one in God
Slaying your fictional self, being honorable
Is your first step toward your recovery
Of your conscious immortality
For what is sin but the force and mischief
Used to instill and empower
Your mentally invented lower realities
Is the ego’s assault against life
Love does not judge
For what is the mercy of Love
But that it repeats it’s lessons of life
Until they are learn by the mind
For Love already knows,
What life is yet to learn
Therefore learn from who you are
And teach your outer self
Love’s absolute truth
Love is your true reality, a constant source
Has no beginning or no end
The unlimited potential, quite essential
My prayer for 2010 is that;
These proceeding sayings
Become obsolete this year
In the face of your Love itself, Smile!
Stay in your Bibles, my little bibles
For Love is your title
Not your mind of idol!!
If the spirit moves me I will speak
I will share words
that no-one wants to hear
I will speak them
I will speak them loud and clear
If the spirit moves me
If the spirit moves me I will see
I will see Beauty
that no-one else can see
I will see it far and near
around me and in all things
If the spirit moves me
If the spirit moves me I will hear
I will hear things
no-one else can hear
I will hear the universe
speaking to me and I will hear
If the spirit moves me
If the spirit moves me
I will feel
I will feel the pain of others
I will feel their happiness too
I will be able to empathize
If the spirit moves me
If the spirit moves me
I will taste joy and laughter
I will live my life in peace
I will find love
I will live on in the ever-after
If the spirit moves me
© Christine A Kysely All Rights Reserved
(October 25, 2011 Wausau, Wisconsin USA)
What is this unseen power
It changes all that exists into dust
It shapes our lives and our landscapes
It sculpts and changes us.
What is this unseen power
That rules the world of men
That heals and teaches and equalizes
That triumphs again and again?
Time is that great master
Of power and wisdom and grace
Which by doing nothing but passing
Leaves its mark on every place.
Time...yes you can waste it,
But be aware when you do
Time will return the favor my friend
And eventually start wasting you.
Life is but a winding road
Filled with faces along the way
Coming in and out of your life
Coloring your every day
Yet most spend just a moment
A fleeting glimpse before your eyes
They giveth not and taketh not
And cause you barely a rise
And some stay just a moment
Earning a thought upon your mind
Triggers for countless memories
These are the most common kind
And fewer still stay even longer
And commune with you a while
Leaving behind dearest memoirs
Of sweet tears or a special smile
And rarer still those faces grand
Building mansions in your soul
These are the faces of a lifetime
Whose virtue you do extol
And know that you simply are
A feature filled soiree
A portrait in collage
Of the faces along the way
Authored by Chuck Keys
It had no color,
Lacking shape, size and dimension.
It wasn't moving or breathing.
There was neither aroma nor taste, not here or there.
Touching was useless because it wasn't physical.
It was indistinct and limitless.
Multi-sensually and multi-psychologically
It wasn't here or there and it was.
With no distinction,
It looked like everything else,
Or it could not have looked like everything else.
It never made me feel good nor bad,
Nor happy nor sad
Nor quite nor trite.
In our world of joy and destroy, we sort and distort,
Looking more on the surface and less on the inside,
Ready to judge and be judged from outside in.
The "oneness" of mankind stretches beyond definitions and limits,
From outside to inside and from inside to outside.
We are one distinct and alike world of "oneness."
Differences exist for differences,
Therefore, differences don't exist.
Only "oneness" exists.
This poem is dedicated to Dr. Clayborne Carson and The Gandhi-King Community,
For Global Peace with Social Justice in a Sustainable Environment.
You are the wild flower in my palm
With no stem to keep you anchored to this covetous earth
You are the fragile thing I dare not cup,
As your petals whittle away under the wind
And flit unfettered in the air;
Exaggerated fear leaves my fingers numb
Hungry need leaves my fingers twitching
And my hand is paralyzed by turmoil
As every breath of wind takes another petal from me
And brings to my lungs, my chest and my heart
An overwhelming scent of need-
You are the wild beauty in my palm
And I dare not hold you to my chest
For I fear to crush you
To know first hand
That caged beauty, is beauty no more.
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
I do not know?
are like my thoughts
falling down into my mind
sending goose bumps down
Their cool aftermath
cleanses me of my thoughts
of fear and uncertainty
about what tomorrows
pain may bring
They make me feel,
wet with creativity
drenched in my optimistic
raindrops, my thoughts
leave paths of pleasurable
distress, and hope of success
which road, less traveled
may be the best
Forget an umbrella
when these raindrops
arrive, I walk outside
arms open wide
Ready to Receive
the mind storm may bring
because raindrops are
as my thoughts, falling
down into my mind
sending shivers down
My brain, yearns
for the rain, to wash away
the pain, tomorrows worry
One special drop
could speed up life's clock
to the time
I can handle my own
and not dwell inside my controllers
For raindrops are,
like my thoughts
falling down into my mind
sending goose bumps
down my spine
Many times the ocean
has saved Nippon, pearl of the sea,
an oceanic symbiosis a speck in a fecund see.
The dikes of man such miniscule plans to hold back the tide.
The throngs, each and all crawl across the thin skin of volcanic soil
or rise with in the hump-backed alps of remnant cones.
Yet, the sea rises to reclaim its own
scour the pallet of man, refine, burnish melt, reform.
With pen and sword kanji drawn, samurai born
with knife and bone entrails torn, honor tested
tested by the hand of He,
tested and found worthy.
The children of the Divine Wind
rise above the tsunami, as one, unbowed.
tapping on my windows' pain—
white blanket in tow
Hurting enough, I paid him no mind
so he kept tap, tap, tapping
‘til cobweb-like cracks appeared:
a final, gentle tap
shatters my windows
My rainbow world
now smothered, pallid,
forced into boredom and slumber,
sunlight chased away
and I am never the same again…
Soul gets plunged deep in the cold
blinded by whiteness, numbed with simplicity
there is an eerie stillness,
almost as if no one dared to breathe,
even the barren trees refused to quiver
brittle dendrites seem to claw the sky
futile though, for they are frozen,
grasping at nothingness,
clouds stubborn and stoic,
brooding in silent grayness
…and then from within, a filigreed whisper escapes
palpable and brave~
it weaves its way through the branches,
gathering strength wherever it went
it beckons to the sky, which in turn
gives in and celebrates ~
letting dainty confetti fall
white, yet amazingly graceful
each flake falls softly on the ground—
a fashionable brocade
trees softly sway now,
and dance to a winter song
the sky weeps with happiness
for seeing a glimpse of life—
they catch a bit of evasive sunlight,
of which I thought I’ve lost
and give birth to miniature rainbows…
all this time, Sunlight was there
an audio of me reciting this poem
Poetry is a highly personal endeavor for all who write
And answer the inspiration of Our Eternal Poetry Muse.
Why do we write poetry?
This a very important question for all of us who “spill ink.”
Poetry for me is a most wonderful magical medium and
An art and methodology which bespeaks the realm of the
Mysterious, Arcane, Uncanny, Mystical, Esoteric, and Divine.
Poetry is my personal endeavor to master the complexity of
Relating my deepest thoughts and connecting with the reader;
Developing a memorable and intriguing theme or subject;
Choosing the right words and composing meaningful verse;
Finding the best metaphors and the proper tone and balance;
Exploring key theme attributes (to name a few):
Feelings, passions, emotions, light, dark, happiness
Sadness, humor, good, evil, intelligence, stupidity,
Right, wrong, ethereal, ignorance, and indifference.
Our Poetry Muse touches each and every one of us at key times
When we least expect it: morning, noon, evening, after midnight.
Our Muse, for me, captivates my thoughts and illuminates my soul
While compelling me onward to communicate and share with others
What I see and perceive, sense and feel, think and understand about
A theme as it resonates in the depths of my innermost psyche.
I know that I have much to say now in my life . . .
Verse, meter, rhyme, tone, metaphors, metonymy, allegory, imagination—
All enliven my efforts and make easier my attempts to mirror my
Thoughts and views to the reading public.
I want my thoughts and doubts, as my passion abounds, to connect with
Those deepest elements of my human psyche and my emotions
In making my written message to be something that is:
Meaningful and significant, resolute and spirited;
Full of passion or compassion, humor or sadness, courage or fear,
Strength or weakness, Heaven or Hell, bliss or misery—or whatever
Motivates and inspires the Creative Process for me.
Our Muse is there with all of us, in reality, to inspire us and help us
To bring passion, meaning, certitude, and direction to our thoughts
As we attempt to infuse these very attributes into our poetic narrative.
Our Muse, in the end, leaves it up to each and every one of us
To go one further step beyond Her ethereal influence and inspiration:
To invest and infuse at the end of this process our own “Free Will”
In making the final decision pertaining to what our final verse or
Narrative product will look like To Our Reading Public.
This is my take, my view on what happens when Our Eternal Poetry Muse
Tantalizes us and awakens within each of us that undeniable Spirit of
Inspiration, and that giddy zest and irrepressible desire to “spill ink.”
Gary Bateman, Copyright © All Rights Reserved, Schoeningen, Germany (October 3, 2014) (Narrative poetic format)
Frail humans we are and mistakes are made,
but there will be a time to pay
for pain inflicted on others.
Run swiftly from dark clouds hovering above,
baggage like an albatross around our necks --
cast it aside.
Commit to offering kind words,
compassion to all,
bestowing brotherly love.
Make amends when possible
for harmful acts, even negative thoughts,
and promote harmony.
When we stand at heaven’s gate,
we’ll not be asked about material possessions,
but how much love we gave.
The prince and the pauper
will be judged as equals
when the tab comes due.
*Entry for Paula’s “How Due You Dew” contest
Written September 8, 2011
I can feel the breath of violin, upon my face
The fluttering wings of fingers playing, 'A Lark Ascending'
In sweet release, I close my eyes, and drift away to inner peace
All strife takes flight, the music takes me to a meadow growing….
Two clarinets, in soft duet …..are timeless, ageless, knowing
I'm standing still, in waving grass, a cello plays a soft breeze blowing
I weave and sway…the music plays …a french horn makes sweet love to me
As if a lark, I leave the ground, upon the lilting sound, and fly away…
Inspired by the Classical composition, "A Lark Ascending"
Composed by Vaughn Williams
(Message of hope dedicated to all those that have been through such an excruciating experience.)
When you are present, Time immobile
Each second an eternity of intolerable
At such moments,
We implore Time to advance,
To accelerate his pace
To hurry up
The next second to come
The next minute
The next hour
The next day
The pain to decrease
Our agony to lessen
And us to be liberated from distress
From our affliction and from
But Time – a sadist- unmoved stays
Instead of picking up speed he
Is dragging his leaden feet, enjoying thus himself with
Our perpetual torture,
Disappointed by Time's unhurried stance,
Absorbed by his immobility,
Let ourselves sink deeper and deeper into our hopelessness,
Till we reach the deepest point of
A place void of all thoughts,
Of absolute silence and of intense
We wish to shout
No voice is possible to be heard
No-one is there to listen to our call of distress
In the darkest hour of solitude,
At the culminating point of desolation,
When we thought all is lost, we realize to our surprise, that
We are not alone,
WE WERE NEVER ALONE!
A tenant is there with us,
A tenant, beyond the limits of ourselves,
Of our understanding,
Of our awareness,
A tenant who looks at us with affection
With compassion and most of all
Yes, it is HIM
The ONE and ONLY
HE who was there before us
Will be here into eternity
After we are gone: GOD HIMSELF!
We look at His Holy visage and we discern an
Apologetic expression for
Having put us through this tribulation so as to be able to make
HIS presence to us known!
He had tried before to approach us on
During the period of our good fortune,
Of our successes and of our achievements
We had ignored HIS calls at that time,
You see, we didn’t need any help then
We thought everything was our doing
Under our firm control
That we were INVINCIBLE!
© Demetrios Trifiatis
13 JUNE 2013
If you are lonely watch the birds
In their freedom of flight--
Feel the warmth of the sun
Kiss your cheeks and smile
Visit the shore and listen to
The waves sing sweet songs
Close your eyes and smell the
Fragrant flowers of spring
Transport yourself through
Time’s great abyss
In memories of streams that
Flow with a youthful glow. . .
Dive in pools of aqua waters
Through your mind’s eye
Delight in the breezes playful
Mood as the trees sway in tune
Listen to the purr of a
Contented cat in your lap
Write a letter to yourself
And promise to answer. . .
Better yet write a poem,
One that will linger long
In someone’s lonely mind.
To all you great poets that drift free from the hoards
I want you to feel the love I've written in these words
My heart reaches out to you like a hand in the storm
Pulling you from the coldness,trying to keep you warm
My words speak with thunder and lightning from above
They are sent to you directly from our God with love
Your words are read by many, some may be with lost souls
Roaming with an emptiness causing them to fall deeper into holes
But with the love from your hearts that flows free from your pens
You reach out to those falling into darkness, and raise them once again
Your pathways will be forever lit with a trail of loves light
With all the souls that you have reached in this living life
I see I'm just another poet
In a string that's mighty long
I've dabbled in some forms
But mostly I just write songs
200 new poems are posted
I've only a single on this list
I'm just one of 24,000 poets
So easily skipped or missed
A few contest I always enter
A glory win feels mighty nice
But lately I'm getting N/A's
That has me thinking twice
I take joy and pride in writing
I try to be clever in what I say
For those of you who read me
Your comments make my day
*This is NOT entirely an autobiographical write. It's written to represent any one of us. And I guess in that sense, I'm included in this work as well.
The sun had a way, of lighting the fires
that would often die, and turn to ash, and dash our hope
The wind had a way, to spread the flame,
to light the way
or die in vain
Sun-ripe gold and red leaves
have lined each trail and every road with heavy brilliance
Our eyes, perhaps unwise, were often blinded by the glare
But embers, frozen there, remained alive
Approaching autumn, there is new fire
Ripe with the sun, we have been shaped and formed
grieving over postscripts, of a faded summer sky
while the outstretched arm of autumn
reaches through the trees---
Her leaf-fluttered hand opens fingers wide
brushing passed branch silhouettes, to look into the sky
and has tossed the evening embers
to light our way
For Gail's Contest: Where Frozen Embers Still Burn 8/27/14
Because He's our Savior and King
Let's unite our voices in praise
To world proclaim all His glory
Today is time to praise the Lord.
Seek His face and you'll find His grace
Because He's our Savior and King
He's my defender and refuge
And want to serve Him forever.
My heart sing for Him many songs
My soul in Him always rejoices
Because He's our Lord and King
With Him I am never afraid.
He's with me,when I feel lonely
And just know that I'm not alone
Jesus is near,not far away
Because He's our Lord and King.
Dorian Petersen Potter
(Psalms 100:1). "Shout for Joy to the Lord,all the earth."
I do not know?
While walking through a hospital one day, a veteran I did see
He was in a wheelchair with both legs missing, and he did it for you and me.
I turned around a corner and down another hall
Only for my eyes to behold a family who has lost it all
A five year old cried out,"Why did daddy have to die?"
The mother held her son closer while she greived and began to cry
The mother of that young Marine, who had fought over in Iraqu
Wandered why her son so brave, didn't survive the enemie's attack
The father of that soldier, hung his head to cry
He was a retired soldier himself, why couldn't he have been the one to die?
His heart broken sister, sits in shock and tries to deny
The death of her older brother, he was killed and don't know why
A few days later, a family, everybody all dressed in black
Went to the funeral of a twenty-five year old who too our bullet in Iraq
The Bible says "thou shalt not kill." and "Love your neighbor" too
Maybe our soldiers aren't doing what's right, but they still take your bullet for you
They sleep in foxholes, and eat in trenches, and do all that they know to do
They rest in the sand with no comforts of home and they take your bullet for you
The restless nights turn into days, you wouldn't believe all they go through
THe rest of us sit at home and gripe, and still they take your bullet for you
The next time you hear a 21 gun salute, don't condemn as others do
The next time the taps are being played, remember, they took that bullet for you.
Thanks, Veterans for your sacrifice.
If you could relive an ancient day, which day, which day, which day would you say?
First kiss, first date
Or undo a mistake?
Watch your child be birthed again
Go back and unhurt a wounded friend?
Unsay a word?
Unbreak a heart?
Undrink that first drink?
Unscar that first scar?
Or would you go to another place
Feel your dad's hands
See your mom's face?
Laugh with your sisters
Let little brother win that foot race
Maybe pet that dog just one more time
Hear grandma recite that old nursery rhyme
Maybe take up for the kid that got picked on
Or hear again for the first time your favorite old song
Or tell your kids you loved them again and again
No matter what they'd just done or how late they had been
But you can't go in reverse to relive any day
What you would have done
Or what you would say
But you can say now what you wouldn't before
You can be someone new open up a new door
You can make a difference in your here and now
You can't be a new when but can be a new how
When all of youth flees
and even the whitest eye reddens, rheums,
words, fair words, dispel the gloom.
When hands are mapped with age and knurled,
still, they transform the page, the eye, the cage,
for where words flow, the mind goes,
to the pristine smiles and
the smooth curves which once were
yours, your cheek, your neck, your hip.
Deny me anything but the word
for it’s magic will soon be all that remains
of fleeting youth.
We have been around for thousands of years
Reading our words for kings and queens
and a few people who gathered just to hear us talk.
We lived on the copper coins they could afford
and traveled through the lands writing what
we saw, dreams and thoughts.
Our words were put to music and made immortal
Others were acted on the stage making
people laugh and cry.
Some words changed the way people thought
and ended hatred between people who
should not feel hate.
People died because they did not realize what
our words could do
Many times a love bogged in fear was loosed
because of a few words we wrote.
God only knows how many children our words
have brought smiles to and how many starting
thinking because of what we wrote.
Why do we do it?
Not to end wars or hatred
Not for the lovers who found each other because of us
Not even for the copper coins people throw
We do it because we love words
We do it to share our feelings
and we do it so that someday maybe someone will read
our thoughts, dreams and words and they will be
remembered long after we are gone.
Quote 2: "Observe the wonders as they occur around you.
Don't claim them. Feel the artistry moving through and be silent. ~Rumi
Old pages torn from ancient trees
with sage remarks upon the breeze
break silence, one by one
Catch them, hold them, before they flee
and listen to the past, unseen
for strong roots to lean on
For Nette's Contest: Rimee couee:
By Carrie Richards 4/20/12
I need you to be stronger
I need you to never be afraid
swallow your pride,and your flight will be softer
tell her you love her,even if it hurts
Grab onto your dream and live it
Do not be afraid of the sun's divinity
Be better,love more, hold on.
Enjoy every stop of the ride.
For when the train finally stops...we die
Until we witness the angels dance after final day...
Dear Me, hide your fears away
I do not know?
What if age was determined
By the amount of life experiences you had
Would you be an old timer, seasoned
Or a young naïve lad?
Would you change the way you lived
Or would you be satisfied?
Would changes to your life be massive,
Or would you seek a priest to confide?
I wonder why we don't live more
Not knowing when the curtain falls
Instead we tread on egg-shell floors
As if we plan when the bell tolls..
‘The Power Of A Poet’ 32nd Senryu
Look How Devoted
The Power of A Poet
See How Words Spoke It
This Poem is My Tribute to:
Carolyn Devonshire (The Dove)
and James (The Highlander) Fraser
for your Powerful collaboration on:
Mother Nature's Revenge
It Was Truly Awesome