Best Borning Poems
Bilocation – 2-11-24
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Bilocation
Love
Slips through labyrinths of tangled spirits
Complexities and conundrums of misdirection
Released by prophecy,
Like clairvoyant fingers of misty sunshine
in two planes
sharing one minute.
Love reaches beyond boundaries of fluttering flesh -
A bridge point of lyric pointillism
With the rhythmic respirations of one breath
Inhaled,
Exhaled,
In poetic unison.
Love exists
Beyond mortality of bone and sinew,
Not begging for crumbs
At the prophesied banquet
The festival
That rains clear jubilees
On every exuberant heart
Reveling in its ecumenical caress
Wrapping cells, bound in time,
With never aging,
Time released,
Pulsing plasmas.
Love dissolves membranes
In transdermal hands of blessing
Showering polka dots of zest
On the skin of souls
Transfusing showers of tenderness,
Ardor
And affection
Into ever borning present – never past –
Seeds
Planted like ephemeral timeless sunlight
Without minutes
Or astral lines
Love
Leaves permanent footprints
All at once
And
Everywhere.
Komorebi 11-8-23
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Komorebi
Sunlight dashes through boughs adorned
In autumn’s scent of red orange crimson
Tossing diamonds of daybreak from their limbs
Into the borning air of dawn
To litter the forest floor in clutter of crystal auroras
Playing hide and seek with shadows,
Awakened by the roster’s first blush,
To prance across branches on tip-toes of brindled magic
As the moon and sun, the darkness and dawn,
Change places in daily do-se-dos,
Leaving fingerprints of light, in moments of intimacy,
When fingers of dappled warmth push back shadows
With celestial sighs of radiance
And flutter like a sparkling flute of luminosity
Cascading in ricochets from oak to elm to evergreen
Until gleeful pandemoniums of white fire
Give birth to awe in strings of burnished zephrys
Draped in jubilees through boughs of dawning beauty
Woven in strands of light as sunshine thinks on loveliness -
Decorations of celebration!
Servant Heart
O Lord, I know my need for you
For your grace like fresh borning dews
Your ready handmaid, scarred and flawed,
Servant to the servants of God.
You gift me music, ministry,
Writing rhymes from soul felt pleas,
To walk the rough roads you have trod,
Servant to the servants of God.
Let me be less, Lord, you be more,
This my prayer – this I implore –
A servant’s heart, humbled and awed,
Servant to the servants of God
soft, soft, I ring the bells
soft, the bluebells blooming
softer tho' her pleading eyes
with each breath, consuming ...
hark, hark, I call to thee
hark, so blushes morning
hearken to her linen cheek
crimson as the borning ...
haste, haste, alas the years
haste to cut the bracken
hasten to her dimming gaze
'fore the shadows slacken ...
hush, hush, I whisper yet
hush to bide the nether
hushing now, her angel voice
gone, my love ... forever.
Summer Place
A song crept into my soul today riding on the summer wind
Then peeked into my summer place closed for many seasons -
Windows shuttered standing on a grassy knoll
Whitewashed in the morning melody at the waters edge -
Waiting - held in time - face unchanging;
I forgot how I loved to sit
Upon the wysteriaed porch in wicker chairs painted white
To smell the elfin roses reaching for the trellis tops
As summer heavy hangs upon the railing
While a frisky breeze
Hop skips
Across the harbor leaving diamonds in it's footsteps
On the waters
And opens up the wide front door,
Decorated with a flowered wreath,
Inviting welcome to my summer place,
Warmed by summer's enduring caress;
The wide front room filled with bits of yellowed lace,
A fragile nautilus,
Daphne pressed between old diary pages,
Haunting songs of summers past, antique keys
And faded photographs;
I take the album in my hands sitting upon the fragrant porch,
Arms around my knees, tabby kitten by my side,
To watch the games and songs
And friends
Unfold their images across the lawn -
Children playing in the sand at the waters edge,
Voices lifted in the sunlight -
Here, I can touch their hands again,
Look into their eyes
And see our laughter fill the afternoon;
We return from play
Young women,
Dressed in cool white linen,
Sun touched hair bound in flowing ribbons
Enfolded in the breezy twilight on the porch
To feast on summer peaches and gaze across the water
With eyes enchanted by the gathering lights
Twinkling in the dusk -
The first bright stars of evening rising on the darkened air
Whispering of the future borning,
Blessed by the crickets chirping serenade -,
Till I would stand
Alone
Upon the empty porch tightly holding in my arms
Roses,
Red and white
Pink and lavender,
Yellow, crimson, orange and ivory and blue,
Their new perfume ever filling
The quiet rooms of my summer place
Until the golden moon slowly closes the white front door
Putting the key into its place,
Leading me upon the sandy path
To morning
Painting blush upon the sky,
When the summer wind
Whispers
Of a summer place.
Tribute
Bright star, ascendant,
Now too quickly gone,
Light becoming -
Bright as transparent rainbow colors
Made of sun and storm
Lingering on the sky
With not one color unseen,
Full spectrum complete
Of joys, of tears, of hope -
Abiding memory
Of child becoming one
With woman
In endless summer days
Winter secrets spoken beneath storms
Running through the spring
To autumntide.
Bright Star
With images held fast by midnight,
Rememberings paused,
Nothing added –
Nothing changed –
No words re-spoken
No actions explained;
A circle completed
All the threads joined
Into a tapestry of light
As shades attempt to separate
Present from memory
Going beyond
The still and final chord –
The naked soul
Fleeing to the light.
Bright star ascending
I still look for you
Upon the velvet sky,
Searching that empty space
Where you resided,
That place
Where daily tasks busied your active hands –
Where shimmering dreams
Guided your every step
In quiet recesses that even friendship
Left untouched –
For your light reflected
Life’s ever borning essence
Bubbling up,
You reflected the stunning wonder
Found in all creation.
Bright star,
This night I stop along the way
To tell you
I still miss
The patterns of your light
And honor you
With tears
Of separation,
Celebration,
And of love,
Quietly residing
Where the signature
Of your days
Wrote an indelible portrait –
To you, bright star -
A light that never dies.
Gypsies
Across a misty channel
Sensor fingers
Stretch
Through foggy, silent waves
Where two souls embrace
In expeditions of speechless discovery
Two minds stand naked,
Face to face,
With wordless words
Each knowing the inner rhyme
Of another soul –
Intimate outside skin and limbs.
Across the barriers of minutes, hours, months
Two silent gypsies wander,
Through heartbeats
They stand, then gaze,
Connected to each other -
Escapees of the spoken word;
Outside the limits of ticking clocks
Two hearts touch
And see the signature of yet another
Self
At the address of the not yet arrived,
Undelivered.
Across the minutes and the moonlight
Pushing past the stealthy march of mysteries
Two fugitives flee holding hands
Leaving footprints
Escaping lines and spaces
Of a calendar;
Two almost strangers stand
At the mystic gates of the unknown -
Today’s unwanted guests
Intruders in tomorrow’s dwelling -
Thieves of time -
Fate’s despoilers.
Across the walls of midnight’s
Crumbling castles
Two wanderers peer into fleeting glimpses
Briefly understanding
The images and ghosts
Taking shape in the mist undefined;
Two stowaways crouch in secret coves,
Hidden from eyes born into mortality
In the warehouse of the borning
To see and not quite
Understand
Young future’s dance.
Across all barriers of time and space
Two gypsies touch outside galaxies to identify
Vague daylight outlines- dim midnight contours -
Embracing imprints,
Acknowledgment of events to come -
Words still unspoken;
Two souls run past the morning
Then return in recognition
For they now stand
Outside of themselves -
Vagabonds of facts
Nomads escaping demands for proof in black and white.
Great minds get the memo.
My favorite things are part of Spring,
Each greening, borning, blooming thing.
A pansy face, a new made nest,
In spring God sends his very best.
The loveliest things that I could know
Are sent to me in springtime show.
Yellow chicklings, downy ducklings,
All new growings, all new sucklings.
Kitten and puppy, foal and calf,
How can they help but make me laugh?
In the worst of winters fury,
I think of them and have no worry.
God show his love to me in Spring.
With things that cause my heart to sing.
Favorite things to keep me whole
Topped of with Spring to feed my soul.
Such lovely things are part of spring,
Each greening, borning, blooming thing.
A pansy face, a new made nest,
In spring God sends his very best.
How can one see and yet not know,
It's God who makes the springtime show;
Yellow chicklings, downy ducklings,
All new growings, all new sucklings?
Kitten and puppy, foal and lamb,
Each one is sent by the great I Am.
In the worst of winter's fury,
Spring is coming, not to worry.
God shows his love to us in spring
With all new things to make hearts sing.
He fills our needs to keep us whole,
Topped off with spring, to feed the soul.
Won a 3rd in contest
Cul-de-Sac
Quick steps slow to hesitate
The sudden curve of a straight white line
Into the mists of detour
Lined with haunting facades
Of blurred addresses
And faded street signs
Where echoes of curiosity bluster -
Magic or madness -
In proverbs of warning about blind alleys -
Mayhem or mystic -
Bending the lane
Like the nautilus inner ear
A flat arc where light searches
For the sacred
Past faceless abodes lining this curlicue
With a come-on to remain
Yet the heart knows to follow
The flamboyant contours,
Like angel’s wings,
Into the loop – not a dead end
But a recoiling boomerang
Leaving knots of doubt behind
Arms open wide to inquisitive's marathon
Then ride the hairpin rail out of gossamer inkiness
Leaving behind the rags of repetition
Into a rosy borning road.
2-21-23
Contest: This or That
Sponsor: Edward Ibeh
Theme chosen – Cul-de-Sac
This story began
as a truly mystic,
as an intercontinental
super cups championship by football,
but there are all plays gaming
in the arena of our hearts
and where final prize
more precious and desirable
than even titles
of Zidan.Maradona and Sezario.
At the acme of drive profound
in the deep core of planet
suddenly move and clash platforms
borning stresses seismically,
producing on upper surface
tsunamis,earthquakes and landslides
changing geographical and geopolitical
landscapes
felling evil empires, stagnant regimes
and emerging new states and nations
That is my love, my dear,
It’s just looking
weak and fragile
As flying in heaven papers kite.
My sense are not my senses
and my transcendence.
I have set back the global
long deep forming tendencies
and suppressed vital zest
of gravitation attractions and grows
that exploded eventually as a love
between West and East,
South and North,
Between Atheists, Muslims and Christians.
That’s way I know,believe me,
The hot time come
For love true and pristine.
Summer Dies
By Rick Rucker
I used to always curse my Fate,
To live through the two seasons that I hate,
Fall and Winter, my accursed foes,
I am thoroughly frozen, head to toes,
Summer dies, Fall is a-borning,
Here I lie, this September morning,
Shaking, under the covers, in my bed,
Wondering if I will soon be dead,
Will they find me, cold and blue?
Solidly frozen, through and through?
You may have heard about Southern California,
But there is a secret, let me warn ya,
Summer days are bright, and sunny,
But Winter nights are not so funny,
They can be bitterly cold,
Something you may not have been told,
People from other places do not know,
That our temps can get so low,
They think that we are all weak, and lazy,
That we are all crazy,
They do not know that we are tough,
Life out here, can be rough!
I am now fading fast,
Fingers stiffening, I will not long last,
How cold will it get?
This seems the very coldest night yet,
I look at the thermometer, no wonder I am done,
A terrifying reading of SIXTY ONE!
“Charm is a delusion and beauty fleeting but a God fearing woman is to be honored” - Proverbs 31:10-31
Capable Woman
A capable woman plants seeds to birth in a harvest plan
Buys a fruitful vineyard and tends it with a tender hand
Clothed in dignity she plants seeds of holiness
Daughter of the Lord she remembers the poor in lowliness
Entrepreneur who gathers God’s inspiration like sheaths of wheat
Feeding the hungry around her table replete
Gleaning goodness from God’s gifts at hand
Happy in the work of her hands
In the shadows of dawn sings psalms to the morning
Jewel treasured at the city gates borning
Knowing her need for God today
Loyalty guides her prayer ballet
More precious than rubies her family devotion
No idle hands rest at dawn or dusk in harmonic motion
Offering light in the darkness from her overflowing lamp
Purple cloth and linen dress her in steadfast mercy’s stamp
Quiet moments in knowing calm as God’s cherished child
Reveries of laughter flow like satin pearls mild
Soaring on silk wings of blessings chivalrous
To reject bread seasoned with the frivolous
Unrestrained joy as she weaves comforting cloaks
Vigor in the fruit of her labor contentment evokes
Wise woman who speaks with humility’s pace
Xenith of creativity in woven patterns of grace
Yet she embraces the caress of God’s ways
Zeal shines out as she embraces each day
2-10-23
Proverbial Poetry
Sponsor: Margarita Lillico
The description of the Capable Woman/Wife in Proverbs is a Hebrew acrostic
All lovely things are part of spring,
Each greening, borning, blooming thing.
A pansy face, a new made nest,
In spring God sends his very best.
How can one see and yet not know
It's God who makes the springtime Show?
Yellow chicklings, downy ducklings,
All new growings, all new sucklings.
Kitten and puppy, foal and lamb,
Each is sent by the great I Am.
In the worst of winter's fury
Spring is coming, not to worry.
God sends our needs to keep us whole,
Topped off by spring to feed our soul.
Won a 4th
Dream Pilgrim
Slipping past the threshold of the daystar in velvet vesper hues
My weary pilgrim heart sheds the restraints
Of pale dawn’s blush and twilight’s silver dawning darkness dyed in ebony
To gather starlit threads of lacy midnight raptures –
Cobwebs of mysterious deep scars –
Shivering echoes and silent symphonies solitudes
Pulling apart tangled luminescent threads of soaring moon fantasy dances
Of wild, untamed, white hot strands of passion in braided chords of shimmery
Cords of dark secrets bound in night terrors of colorless tantrums -
Rosy remembrances and new hope in borning greens –
Scattered remnants of the forgotten in barefoot convictions
To weave a gauzy metaphor light as clouds ships on a midnight seascape
A fragile souvenir of pale hoarfrost in flowing textures of irony –
Emerging mystic patterns bold as an ephemeral glimpse of eternal
Gossamer filaments in mystic schemes of far pavilions
A fleeting tapestry – a mantle of the epic pilgrimage visage -
Disappearing into wreaths of corona’s memory crowning
In new light of re-emerging time’s strong resolve
Only to reprise the journey when sighs of sweet slumber’s song
Again invites my heart to explore the maze in shimmers of sleep
1-27-21
N/A - 2/2/21 - Contest - All Yours (Feb 1)
Current Contest - Final 2021 N/A Choice 3
Sponsor: William Kekaula