Best Ascent Poems
……Somewhere a lone survivor of a plane crash
A man of sound and reason
standing tall and proud.
But a voice of lies and madness
whispering words of doubt.
His mind a fortress sturdy
no shadows in the crowd.
But a path of doom and darkness
waiting to break out.
Delusions like a serpent,
coiling in his brain,
Paranoia like a venom,
oozing from his core.
Twisting truth and logic,
driving him insane.
The world a hostile army,
waging endless war.
Dissociation like a vise,
squeezing his soul tight,
A mirror of identity,
shattered into shards.
Lost within the maze,
his selfhood out of sight.
The pieces of his being,
scattered near and far.
Psychosis like a demon,
dancing in his mind,
The music of madness,
playing its eerie song.
Illusions like a spider,
weaving webs to bind.
As his grip on sanity,
was slowly being wronged.
Not working…..
He found a radio, a possible voice of hope and light.
…..Working
Then a change of course,
a turn of fate’s design,
A mind once plunged in madness,
now rising to the fight.
From blackness to brightness,
a force of hope divine.
An ascent from affliction,
a story of great might.
As his grip on sanity was
slowly being restored,
Illusions like a spider
weaving webs to break.
The music of madness
playing its final chord.
Psychosis like a demon
dancing in his wake.
The pieces of his being
scattered near and far,
Lost within the maze his
selfhood comes to light.
A mirror of identity
shattered into stars.
Dissociation like a vise
squeezing his soul bright.
The world a hostile army
waging endless peace.
Twisting truth and logic
driving him to sane.
Paranoia like a venom
oozing from his fleece.
Delusions like a serpent
coiling in his mane.
But a path of doom and darkness
waiting to fade out.
His mind a fortress sturdy
no shadows in the crowd.
But a voice of lies and madness
whispering words of doubt?
A man of sound and reason standing tall and proud?
A lone survivor of a plane crash……
They left every stone unturned
Every rose untouched
In the rubble of a shrine
Of those who once had loved
They lie quietly
Faces upturned
Towards the sun
Their tears vaporize
To ascend
To become
A story that will never end
Life begins at the turn
Of a long winding way
Journeyed in a day.
ascent of virtue
its ardor lasts a lifetime
source-pulse-point perfume
sweet honesty seduction
sensation of married flesh
Line of inquiry:
“on an as is where is basis we choose
descent of consciousness into the gross
then we rise again following heart’s muse
higher than where stood, bearing love’s cross”- unseeking seeker
Few have been my conscious acts
of very high or low.
More have been the trials that
have disrupted my joy’s flow.
Some tribulations sent me reeling,
feeling like I was in hell.
More fortunate than some am I.
And this I now know very well.
The modern world lends comforts
to which we feel entitled,
while there are poor souls on this earth
where horrors reign unbridled.
My trials, mostly physical,
I’ve managed to get through.
Though life brings torments even now,
with God’s gifts I can still make do.
I thank the Lord that life has been
mainly kind to me.
No too-high mountains have I climbed.
No monsters have I had to flee.
From my ups and downs I’ve learned
everyone – my sisters and my brothers -
has woes to bear that I can’t know.
We must have empathy for all others.
Round and round, they twist and rise;
Without a sound, towards heaven’s skies.
Pure energy, it cannot die, despite a skeptics protest;
It brings a soul to new heights; there, it has its rest.
When the light, it does appear, an all-consuming fire;
Life renews; becomes dear as we transcend this ugly mire.
With electricity; souls are called into the light;
The clay and water, reduced to ground; as souls alight.
The one part of your self will rise,
to touch and stay in Heaven’s skies.
Just know you go where you’ll be free;
Across the void, to your Creator, you see.
Life’s not easy, but when lived well;
back to the Source, we all will sail.
It’s a long slow trip into misery
It starts by putting that bad feeling aside
By narrowing your expectations
And removing all of your pride
And as you make you humble
You actually cripple as well
You reach so far to have someone else
That it actually puts you in hell
It’s a long slow trip into misery
From which I must return
And in order to do this
I must internalize the lessons learned
To believe in me
To set me free
To walk into the light
And possibly disappear from sight
Ascent from Misery – 2001 (C) Susan Manley (on my divorce)
On an as is where is basis, we fell—
down the elevator shaft of the day,
into the buzz of a fluorescent hum, the smell
of reheated takeout in cracked Styrofoam trays.
The descent began when the train doors jammed,
and I was stuck staring at my own reflection—
the stale grime of the carriage, the paper ads,
my face mirrored against the strangers, expressionless.
I finally made it home, my shoes untied,
the hallway dim, someone’s dog barking through thin walls.
The key caught in the lock, metal snagged on silence—
inside, a burnt-out bulb flickered above the sink.
Bills were piled high, half-shoved in a drawer,
an eviction notice crumpled at the edges,
yesterday's dishes stacked like monuments of failure,
and in the fridge—two eggs, a leftover apology.
Then I saw it: a post-it, bright yellow,
crookedly taped above the empty fruit bowl.
A scribbled heart, in a child’s writing, "You're the best,"
the 's' in 'best' drawn backward, rushed—
a small love, pressed into a square of paper.
That night, I folded laundry in silence,
shirt by shirt, sock by unmatched sock,
finding something steady in the rhythm—
the sound of breathing is as good as sleep
when sleep is nowhere near.
I climbed into that feeling, inch by inch,
with each minute stretched, each dollar exchanged
for time, each deep breath drawn. The city
buzzed outside, the cars skating down wet streets,
but here, it was the small clicks of our life—
turning off the TV, the snap of clean sheets,
the drip of the bathroom faucet needing fixing.
I knew it was enough—this climb, this small scaffold
we built to hold us up.
Now I stand, the city alive beneath my window,
swapping scar tissue out for the heat of the moment,
for the feat of staying—my laughter penetrating
the cracks in the walls—a song that makes each broken
piece of the ascent worth saving.
wholly
utterly
completely
devoting
dedicating
committing
striving
exerting
straining
victory
triumph
conquest
smiling
grinning
beaming
gratitude
appreciation
acknowledgment
modesty
humility
prayer
Looking through the soul’s eye, all seen as one,
ego deems enlightenment is attained,
since awareness is from ego unchained
and no stories by lower mind are spun
but since flame of love shines not like the sun,
God’s light that lights all lights, not yet ingrained,
in truth the neophyte’s heart is still stained,
needing self-appraisal to come undone.
If Holy Spirit has not yet touched form,
the soul here now cannot metamorphose,
bereft of love, knowing not bliss delight,
sublime elixir, that stills every storm,
ensuring breath by breath, love and light grows,
transforming body-mind as living light.
one
soft hush
silver drift
softening thoughts
into pale wonder
where memories soften
souls loosen their edges now
light slips slowly through quiet seams
until the self thins to a whisper
rising, carried on breath of the Unseen
.
tectonic defense
contemplative reflection
remorseful summit
I fall a raindrop from stratus to stratum
birthed from clouds pregnant with thunder
a lion’s roar —a pride in the sky— fierce!
armed with lightning’s rip and slit
the scythe of claw and tooth finds its prey
knifing sunset’s skin desecrating cranberry rays
it’s red demise fills my see-through-eyes
Sun’s canvas shredded
I fall through tattered pages of watercolor-layers
accumulating dust and blood of the slayed day
I arrive not a predator but a peace-maker
my raiment fleece of lamb not mane of beast
I come to rest
a drop of rain who clings to a windowpane
… translucence transforms me
inside a room I see myself with my possession-pain
a swaddle-bundle I rock to soothe
pain held against my breast like a newborn
crying to be fed
nurtured with lemon-squeezed tears
and sticky sick-sweet milk of revenge
my fingertips trace my descent down the glass
I pray not to let the dark moon be my doom
I know myself like turmoil-seas know the shore
let the salt-sea’s seethe meet still grains of sand
abrasions cleanse one of crime and grime
I know myself like the night knows the morn
let the night be a knight
and capture rapture with light-swords of dawn
I know myself
the games I played with leather fringe and lace
his Marlboro face the Moët taste
the magnet attraction pulled my limbs apart
I am a tear liberated from the storm
free to fall free to fall oh I had to fall so far to be free
fall from heights where lust-wishes glisten
slip the stardust handcuffs
fall from nimbus find the limbus of self and soul
find a way to rise above black seams
and wanton scenes of my scream-dreams
translucence transforms me
I let go of the windowpane
and die to myself casting off pleasure of pain and sin
I fall to silent-sister soil inhaled to be exhaled
on dizzy wind-whimsy-warmth of first light
I fall a new drop of dew wet with sky light
as I bear Love's cross like a white lotus bears its muddy birth
Mountain
No sherpa, rope
Or faithful steed
In stocking feet
I do proceed
Each day I climb
Relentless slope
To rest my weary head
And hope
That once the peak
Of my desire
To elevated place
Aspire
Concludes.
No flag or
Selfie pose will take
No Instagram.
No front page stake.
Just me.
To hear the lost applause
Of decades climbing
For the cause
And when the final
Bell tolls here..
The challenge ends.
The final year.
My human vehicle
Now kaput
The mode of transport
No sock dressed foot
My rationale
I will defend
As heaven's stairs
Now, I ascend
The greatest mission
Has to start..
An expedition
Of the heart
Jinjagoliath
13th April 2023
Ascent into love, Translation of Carlos Bousono’s poem : Subida al amor
(The first poem in Bousono’s first collection of the same name, written before he was 22,
sounds very much like being his declaration of « love » with life or rather his « testament » of
love . A good many of the poems selected by A. D. Amusco in his anthology : Poésia Antologia
1945-1993 have been revised by the poet, himself.
T. Wignesan)
Pay attention to the airs, Solitary Soul !
Sad soul which goes whimpering all alone.
Rise up, mount ! Love awaits you !
The summit looms high. Limit the harness !
Fluttering, trembling and pale,
I see you mounting with your force held back.
The sun returns where, until yesterday, the moon reigned.
The moon arrives where yesterday blew the north wind.
At last, life shines forth with light.
At last, death is dealt a deadly blow by light.
The summits sing, and so do the valleys. Sing !
those who’re always alive to those who never die !
Face to face together with God’s : listen
to the airs vibrating and live your dreams !
Life together with life, light bound up with loving light
and the humane heaven bound with love in heaven.
Lower the light of love, the light of life.
I feel with ease the minuteness of airs.
Let the light of God dissolve in that of the soul !
How clear it all becomes at once. What silence !
© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2013
I Know you from a distant dream.
For splendid shapes that soften senses,
capped peaks that tempt a caressing glance,
to you, clambering, this cold heart doth dash.
My hands embrace the danger of your delicacies,
soft powdered curves that drift to tease,
that lead to thoughts of conquests, yet,
yielding mysteries willed to unfurl
with each attempt to own such honor.
Your granite plumes soar to touch the heavens
but stoop to own one anguished soul.
Possessed by none,
Save God...
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