We are never Woke!
Cool, catchy, hip
neat sounding expression
but deceptively misleading!
Best we can do is rest,
shelter at a pillar of Awakening….
-----------------------------------
We choose our possessions --
Choose what possesses us --
The Devil, with his lures
of power and gem-my babbles --
Christ His promise of Soul
Liberation: ever higher expansion,
Awaking consciousness into spheres
of unimaginable cosmic spiritual
wealth – Christ, my heart lightener;
guide through shrouded corridors,
enraptured, trans-versing mystic chambers,
those sky-high mansions for initiate
flight. I become the Light-bearer! No captives in
Christ, only partners, who serve the Father,
totally dedicated to His Children's uplifting.
There are no dogmatic prisoners in
Christ. I follow Christ, who follows
God, joyful in a journey of unfolding
omnipotence. What Father wants
less for His Children than he has
For Himself? The Almighty, ever
present, ever loving, beneficent Great I Am!
The newborn cries, the old man sighs,
The same faint light is in their eyes.
The journey ends where it began,
The tiny babe, the fading man.
The baby starts in nappies, new,
A fragile life with much to do.
The elder closes out the years,
In nappies as the ending nears.
The toddler takes a shaky stride,
With parents watching right beside.
The elder struggles just to stand,
And reaches for a helping hand.
The infant babbles, learning speech,
To grasp the words just out of reach.
The senior tries to mouth a word,
But leaves the sentence lost, unheard.
The helpless baby needs our grace,
To lift them in a warm embrace.
The helpless elder needs that care,
When heavy years are hard to bear.
The cradle meets the rocking chair.
I hear your voice in my head
a thousand miles away
life fades, rekindles thoughts
fades, rises again
the brook babbles
water falls
in frequencies
audible
white heat simmers
on parched earth
dry bones are
ground to dust
like ashes to ashes
I still hear your voice in my head
resonating in the silence
it beckons you to know
what is and what is not
real.
Sometimes it shrieks, hoots or creaks,
whistles, cries, trills or squeaks,
rattles, russles gurgles or moans,
babbles, crackles, grunts or groans.
Sometimes it chatters, chirps or howls,
baas, ribbits, hisses, roars or growls,
cackles, coos, squawks or crows,
chitters, bleats, clucks or bellows.
Sometimes it, barks, buzzes or caws,
clicks, gobbles, gurbles or heehaws,
moos, humms, oinks, meows or neighs,
peeps, purrs, quacks, snuffles or brays
the silence of nature is a never-ending song,
forget your troubles and come sings along.
A small stream gurgles,
a cool brook babbles,
the river meanders along.
The sea waves crash,
the universe whispers,
it’s all part of nature’s song.
I begin to ask a question
get interrupted
have no idea how what it was
and it had seemed important a few minutes ago
how do I lose my thoughts this fast?
has it always been so or is this new for me?
I stare at the phone, the speaker has interrupted me yet again
why am I friends with her? She is bullyish and boring
I remember now why I phone her
she is always available; answers the phone every time
This should have tipped me off
There are no other friends; she has interrupted them too often
How many other friends do I have that meet this same criteria?
I look down the list of names as she babbles on about something.
I used to have to say “uh-huh, and that’s right, and tell me more”
But now her incessant drone keeps going without prompts.
I decide to throw in a comment. She stops dead sentence.
You made me forget what I was going to say, she says in a mean way.
I feel glad.
Hear Ye!
the babbles of brook flowing on by.
the fizzy hiss of foam floating on tide.
the howls of a waterfall crying into sky.
the raging roar of waves crashing on beach.
the pitter-patter raps of raindrops on window panes.
the splish and swish of paddles straddling lake.
the tinkle taps of gentle rain showers on rooves.
the guttural gurgle of water sinking down drains.
the blink and plink of dew drops tumbling down leaves.
all singing in cadence, a lulling lilting lullaby,
caressing ye to sleep.
But, Beware Ye,
lest Ye hear,
the alien tap of
drip,
drip,
drip,
drops in sink!
relentless, incessant, clatter,
insistent for a fix!
Soft as hugs, tiny hands reach out
when the tall one comes to make the silly sounds.
Aaro forgets the dark warm place,
this new world too big.
*
Blinks at bright lights and strange faces.
Hears songs beyond the funny noises.
Wrapped snug in soft blanket folds,
Aaro wiggles on.
*
Dropping milk bubbles on fuzzy cloth, watches
shapes moving above: close enough to grab.
When sleep comes, Aaro takes a deep breath
and dreams away.
*
Sees a big face smiling in the light,
hiding then appearing with a "peek-a-boo."
Such a nice game, thinks Aaro,
it makes the big one laugh too.
*
Eyes will not stay on one thing
and wander to new colours instead:
ceiling fan spinning round and round;
herself, Aaro, a small wonder
known by warm arms.
*
Milk fills her tiny tummy. Coos escape
from lips still learning to smile.
Sleep comes to Aaro's eyes; her fingers,
wherever they reach, find something to hold.
*
A soft blanket against skin; her world,
sound-filled, simple as now.
Her cries heard always, Aaro babbles to herself
as she discovers everything new.
Once more, I am thinking about writing -
coils are uncoiling,
snakes study the intricate anatomy
of legs and next steps.
My audience of one
must be propped up as if yet still alive,
geriatric words must be given their shots.
I can tell it's going to be a performance,
the poem is even now going off script.
It babbles; the entire cast of 'Hamilton'
has just walked out in protest.
Only Prokofiev and his 3rd piano concerto
can save me now, his notes are jungle drums
for the hard of hearing,
however, the write is not a musical
or a concert. It's, it's err...
Anyway, it is almost teatime.
Already the critiques
are sharpening their pencils.
I pull apart my white fancy actors' shirt,
buttons pop exposing the telltale signs
of recent romantic heart surgery.
Now an overwrought muse is yelling in my ear.
Dammit,
I simply cannot write another thing
under these circumstances.
I box up the coiling snakes,
exit left.
The American people have
Lost their minds.
Electing the SCHMUCK,
One more time.
MR. Trump, a dangerous
Man-child.
A convicted FELON,
Running wild.
No consequences to
His actions.
A traveling Circus,
THE MAIN ATTRACTION.
He is a FASCIST, RACIST, SEXIST,
Preaching his Campaign.
He BABBLES on and on and on,
The man is INSANE.
A MORON in charge of the
Greatest place on EARTH.
Where we force our Women,
To give BIRTH.
The white men will be
The least affected.
Anything else will
Be REJECTED.
WOMEN, NON-WHITE and
THE LGBTQ.
Pay attention they are
Coming for you.
OUR BODIES,
THEIR CHOICE.
We no longer have
A VOICE.
No more BLUE skies,
cold dark RAIN.
We will live and die,
IN THE HOUSE OF PAIN.
Turbo1904 ?
Beauty Abounds
Beauty abounds, and bursts of brilliant sun are born,
with the breaking day on this beautiful morn.
Beveled bark blooms buds of brightest green
bordered with berries and blossoms in between.
The balmy breeze blows baby's breath seeds,
into the brown and broken weeds.
A brook babbles between the sun-bathed banks
Bubbling and brewing and bringing thanks.
Downstream, as bluebirds begin to bathe in the bay
We breath in the bounty and the beauty, of this blessed day.
The sun SIZZLES on the scorched dry sand
As he sits before me and brushes my hand
He runs to the ocean to SPLASH in the sea
He SHRIEKS with delight whilst he's looking at me
The ocean it BABBLES a slow lilting song
Its depths of bright turquoise can be heard SIGH along
All at once there is RUMBLING as the sky turns to grey
The pricking of goosebumps on a bright, CHIRPY day
As the ocean retreats in a menacing way
It pulls and it GROANS and it drags him away
Up ahead in the shadows a gull CACKLES its joy
As the loud CRASH of water takes hold of the boy
The boy calls out to the crowd on the shore
The laws of the ocean means the boy is no more
abandon
babbles
cabaret
dabster
eagerly
fabrics
glacier
habitat
icecaps
jabbers
7 letter scrabble words
"And the birds twitter like whispering violins."
Quote by _Constance
The morn' rain is dripping in the greenwoods,
and hidden birds chatter in the tall trees;
birds on branches are beeping in the woods,
and the trees hum with the cool autumn breeze.
Wildflowers mumble beside my footpath,
water not far babbles along its way;
from that cool stream frogs croak pausing their bath,
the woods is singing an overture gay.
I hear the whisper of a passing swan.
the quacking from a family of ducks;
and the crunch of a squirrel as it ran,
in the distance is the rumble of trucks.
And now as the sun is yawning goodbye;
the birds fly and swirl chirping in the sky.
pitter patter drips drops and plops
blathers blatters splatters sploshes and drips
bitter twitter twatters and twaddles, flips and flops
chitter chatter babbles claptrap baas and blahs
slithering sliding slues, slips and skips
blotches mottles splotches and spots scars and mars
splutter flutter splatter clatters, a kick-started motorcar
crunched cracked munched and punched the whacked gears strips
hipping and hopping, skipping and bop bop bopping, we're not going far
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