Still stands the night,
an immovable mountain.
A light snowfall of moonlight
on its exposed terrain.
An isolated star shimmers and shakes
its avalanche of brilliance,
outshining myriads of lesser snowflakes
that adorn the night’s somnolence.
In the lee of this mountain,
amongst taupe shadows deep,
three riders their clutches tauten
halting their steely steeds, while other men sleep.
Their chill- wizened faces
look up to the sky
whilst blind night embraces
the three Magi.
Through centuries they’ve travelled
like astronauts through space
though men still hadn’t unravelled
the first mystery that had taken place
on the outskirts of this beleaguered city.
They gaze at the star questioning:
was man ready for the immensity
of the Second Coming?
The frosty light of the star
then started to melt and wane.
It was too soon for the avatar,
the world was still profane.
They re- revved their machines
and set off into orbit exquisite.
Astronomers observing the dying sheen
said t’was a star of hope that surely would revisit.
all Masks show the truth
falses deny their faces -
dance of avatars
Immortal soul, grand and divine
An old power that aged like wine
He reigned before the earth was born
Before the first of worlds was torn
On earth, he came to be a king
He's like an angel without wing
In flesh and bone he came to rest
To face the world and pass the test
In his new form, he lived like us
Just like a stranger in a bus
In crown of thorn, he took his reign
Blood and water flowed from his vein
He died like us in human form
He's nailed on cross just like a norm
With every blood he poured on soil
All souls were save without a spoil
Incarnate poetry contest
2nd place
pretty avatar
for both you and the cute star
yet both are so far
Set in stone,
yet eyes watered.
The green face
looks through a small window
of time and art.
It was a slow process, a natural one,
the carved features, once handsome,
had been weathered and worn.
Patina had painted, moss molded,
rain and sun,
and the artful strokes
of ever-changing seasons
had wrought a deeper character
He remains,
not ruined, more interestingly odd,
enigmatic
the way most living statues are.
Like avatar of gods in human form, they worship even his poop
There is a song I know
It's a poem in its own right
I cannot describe it to you
Without the melody sounding trite
I have no way to say it
But to you I implore
Listen to the Avatar's Love
And stay with me forevermore
Wandering earthling
Cosmic incarnate being
Quest for your story
To get out you must go in
Akasha is recording
>b>and this bizarre possibility
what does the future present to us?
we can break calendars,
I thought.
shedding skin like snakes,
we can shine dark
lighting up the chromosomes that we are.
we can create our avatars,
surpass ourselves,
become the effigies that will replace us
containing the courage we lost
when we shamefully weaken,
when we definitely walked away
of what we could become
when we accept to be
merely the humans we are
My heart beats,
a rhythm that never stops.
“I love you,”
From far away I hear her reply:
“Do you?”
Yet thousands of miles separate us.
I only see your avatar.
I do not know exactly what you look like.
Still my heart echoes:
“I love you.”
Oh, that I could kiss that lovely face!
That I could hold you in my arms!
That I could make love to you!
I can almost see her smile.
“You don’t love me.
You only love my avatar.”
she is a golden haired beauty
smile that revels the sun
pink faerie, with a romantic gown
in silks, satins, created for an angel
people gravitate to her easily
trusting her due to her gorgeousness
Beauty has a way with people
They become malleable in her hands
I am amazed by her myself
She is my ultra-ego, my dream woman,
My going-to-come-back-around-next-time-self
I will be five foot eleven, and I will wear high heels
I will grow wings and be marvelous
I will have golden hair and blue eyes and touch the sun.
Reminder of my next incarnation
There was once a guy named Roy
I met online from the city of Troy
Avatar was smokin hot,
Wanted to tie the knot.
Met in person- shock, he was a boy
*Troy is a city in Detroit
11/23/2020
New age hurdy gurdy on the fiddle,
lotus pose squatter spookily enthrals,
Sultan nail tip sky diver of the fretboard
Grandma, I have shown you this many times! Says my grandson Bell.
He is teaching me Fortnite. I am not doing well.
Bell tosses his console down and takes mine. I watch fascinated.
The video game prowess of this kid is probably underrated.
Oh, I am the guy? I ask, surprised because I thought I was Demi not Thor.
My grandson gives me that “look” “Is my avatar doing well?” I implore
We go rapidly from Pleasant Park to Neo Titled. My head is spinning.
By the time we reached Salty Springs the other team was winning?
I am a lot better now, and my grandson comes to see what I will buy.
I get packages he needs for pets, emoji’s, things I can supply.
I am usually Demi, and Bel has grown fond of Thanos or Black Hybrid.
We play with whatever team dares play us until we asleep or fall down dead.
My name is my name if you please,
my first name is Sheri as nickname,
my second name is my maiden name,
father given, kept as middle name.
and they work so well together,
the SF initials highlighting my genre
of writing of future dreams and invention,
so sorry to say, I'm only my name
plus my husband's taken for my wedding.
I'd make it more creative but it works
and as a working girl, that had to do.
Let me creatively write but keep sane
my given name, family names married
as a pen name working to keep me safe.
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