Best Communed Poems
(For My Younger Self)
You have forgotten your muse.
You neglected her, in the hustle and bustle
of city life, in trying to carve a niche,
driving yourself too hard -
thinking it could make you rich.
She grieves.
Don’t you see her? She grieves.
How she longs to reunite with you
but you are far too busy, with everything new.
Too unmindful, too steeped in the practical
your change was so radical;
Too pragmatic, everything has become automatic.
You have lost touch with your muse,
no matter how she pleads you have become obtuse.
When will you reach into the softer,
more introspective part of yourself?
Please do not say, never.
Remember how you would write through the night
and people around you would wonder why…
Those moments were priceless,
the times you communed with words so ageless
as you poured onto paper all your emotions -
In the night, you would write of happiness and pain,
of a young love, and of your simple dreams.
Go back to those simple dreams.
Do not allow yourself to be lost
in the conundrum that is Life.
Step back, take stock, be still.
Find time for meditation, there is no condemnation
for those who acknowledge the need for salvation.
And as you find that inner peace,
write once more.
Write, and write some more.
Set free all those words that have long been kept
within your heart…the happy words, the sad words,
words both simple and intricate
that a reader will enjoy as he masticates
the meaning, the lesson, the joy and young wisdom.
Let your words dance…let your words s o a r !
31 October 2015
Poem of the Day 01 November 2015
Awarded 1st Place - What Would You Say Contest
For God so loved this sinful world, He gave us all His son;
That we might live with Him one day, when life on Earth is done.
No greater love was ever known, no greater gift bestowed,
And for the love He sacrificed, no greater debt’s been owed.
The time was short for Jesus Christ, but what He gave mankind
To lift our hearts and save our souls has yet to be refined.
The grace and style in which He moved through politics and fools,
Has paved the way for paths we trod through worldly ways and rules.
His teachings spread throughout the land, His miracles renowned,
He only had to touch a life to show His love was sound.
Two thousand years have come and gone since Christ communed with man;
And with his dying saved us all, to serve God's ancient plan.
He rose from death, as He had said, and proved His word was true,
That life eternal waited those who choose to suffer through.
Salvation came that fateful day, the Bible tells us so;
And time has shown that through God’s love the weakest spirits grow.
Now, modern times are hard on us and cause us all to doubt,
For change is there at every turn, and Satan’s always out.
It’s now we need the love of God, for always, as before;
Just lift your heart and ask for it, and see what lays in store.
It’s through God’s love we handle change and how it makes us strong
In ways we deal with worldly things and sort the right from wrong.
For change is just another way the Lord sees fit to use
To make our days seem fresh and new with paths to take and choose.
It’s by our faith we live our lives and seek a brighter day,
And how we find the confidence when doubts get in the way.
But most of all it’s happiness that faith’s been known to give
When our misfortunes come to cloud these modern times we live.
We need not fear what God has wrought. We need not know His plan.
We only need to know He’s there, and love’s in store for man.
Just think the words you’d ask in prayer, and ere a sound be heard,
His perfect love will fill your heart before you’ve breathed a word.
No greater love was ever known, no greater gift bestowed,
And for the love He sacrificed, no greater debt’s been owed.
But God forgave our debt to Him, we live in grace today;
The greatest love you’ve ever known is just a breath away.
POW confined in a cage
Through Viet Cong jungles bullets raged
No sweat from his pores in unrelenting sun
Dehydration, famine, yet his needs were none
A tepid river so foul with blood’s scent
But the outcome of torture was not as meant
He tasted cool ice as his spirit soared
Freedom came fast once the war was ignored
Hovering o’er killing fields his soul’s eyes
Saw not the wounded, heard not their cries
Though his weak body lay crumpled below
Pain free he reveled on clouds, heaven’s snow
Through astral projection he’d been set free
Each day he survived, taking this journey
When rescued at last many months gone by
The US militia did not know why
GI Joe felt no hate, seemed so serene
And not one of his rescuers could glean
Why this soldier survived, what kept him sane
For they’d not escaped inside this man’s brain
The awareness he’d achieved spared his life
So he could return to his son and wife
Who’d prayed everyday that he would come home
Only to say they’d never been alone
Their spirits communed on another plane
And life as they’d known it would never be the same
*Entry for Caties Out-of-Body Experience Contest.
I strained to hear a sound
that could not be heard
What needed to be learned
imperceptibly blurred
It was so loud
this lonely burden
Of what I was aware
I could not be certain
Leaving me wondering
“What’s beyond the open curtain?”
I didn’t want to listen
to what I couldn’t hear
That rumblings
in my inner ear
It made me feel sad
while growing my fear
“What is my purpose?”
“Why am I here?”
Each moment that passed
Felt like it would be my last
The mingling of my future
with my sad past
I didn’t know why
Or what made me try
Could I find truth
Within a cruel lie?
No one else knew
Or could even care
How could they
even be aware?
So I understood
it was my own despair
It lived within me
It wasn’t somewhere out there
I could feel the fabric within me
as it started to tear
I wish I knew
what was false and true
As the thumping tearing
pounding inside me grew
Yet that still loud silence
it could not be heard
For it was always thought
It was never word
My past, present and future
together blurred
Then I placed bare feet
upon grassy ground
I felt connection
beyond mere sight and sound
I longed for freedom
while being earthly bound
A full circle moment
flowing round and round
Somehow my skin
it fully understood
My fingertips
communed with wood
The Earth and heavens
spoke through me
“You are now perfect
and always will be
Yes a part of all
that’s been created by Me.”
Pride of Place - My Mother's Piano
My mother’s hands on ivory keys wove enchanted runes
Then flew across the keyboard in musical monsoons
Notes of black and white in song serenades communed
She coaxed the claviature to plaintive and musical cartoons.
Eighty-eight keys remember days of Claire de Lune,
Sonatas lyrical shimmers recall enchantments of the moon,
Bewitching notes that bloomed in l’apres midi afternoons
Reminisce now that her treasured piano graces my front room.
2-7-22
Contest: Pride of Place
Sponsor: Julie Ward
They were her favourite,
She loved them deeply,
I saw her tend them with care,
She communed with them,
She sat in their midst in the cool of the evening,
They blossomed with her every care,
I was deeply moved,
She trimmed and sold some,
Instructing that they should
be nurtured with care,
When she was indisposed,
They slowly withered,
I took over and did her obligations,
They didn’t respond at first,
But later conceded,
When she departed,
I told them,
But promised to wear her shoes.
October 16, 2022.
FATHER TO SON...
(APROPOS A QUADRIPLEGIC SON WHO LIVED AND DIED BEAUTIFULLY)
In the stillness of your own
you taught us
the circadian rhythms of life
and its meandering flow
cascading life's tempestuous realities
year to year gracefully
wrapping pain into neat little packages
to be opened in the still of night
where you lay motionless
while spiritual healing moved
from one solution to another
as your soul communed with God.
How cleverly He disguised you:
a bud in waiting.
When blooming synchronized itself
with your unfolding
you became a radiant sunshine of joy:
then you gracefully slipped away.
Today
a gentle breeze blew baptismal bliss
over my every being
and i felt your sweet soul soaring
in the winds of time
and heard your redemption song
of peace and unity with Jah.
Persuasion's possessive verses
'midst absolute poetic madness
surrendered in rhapsodic poesy,
poets are a tidy sum of quirky &
care zilch of external perceptions,
content to breathe 'round seduction
and unicorns' phantasmagoria
insomuch nonsense amid candor,
directionless winds 'neath allegory
'pon posies and dragon's intimation
twisting mundane to vibrant intrigue,
translations representing prism's
kaleidoscopic colorful impressions
and themes of whimsies' schematics,
transparency & transcendence yielded
'neath abstraction's elaborations,
refining & expounding unspoken lyrical
compositions of a fancied expose
commencing communed communication,
redundancies' excesses never take recess
panoramic hues of conceptualizations' foibles
reverberating gusto of paradoxical aberrations,
chromatic visuals swaying eye's sensory perspective
distorting brain synapses proliferating alterations,
dancing 'tween fiery moonbows & dandelion whims
'pon emotions flabbergasted mid-starry night folly,
prancing within rain's whetted infidelity of sunrises
hanging amongst cosmoses' effulgent constellations,
feet never planted firmly in earthy burnt umber
viewing worldly horizons differently upside zest's zing
of inky relished sublimation and shifting symmetry - -
and we make naught apologies for imperfect paragons
Now of New Age, I am a fan,
I communed with my healing man,
I relaxed, breathed, because I can,
Yes! I communed with my soul's shaman,
He appeared, by my psychic side,
At last, I met my inner guide,
But, you see, it was lunchtime,
Hunger pains panged inside,
Who is this messenger guide?
I asked, yearning deep, besides,
Yes! I did commune with my inner shaman,
Unfortunately, his name is Manga!
Let's do lunch,
End of hunch!
Serendipity happened
As the dancer communed
Poet's scintillas and muse
Enchanting poetic expression
Dances like wind-tossed Dandelion
Fragrant perfume infuse
Summery, sumptuous person
Gifted poet whose poems not homespun
Whose words hearts seduce___
Sponsor:Cyndi MacMillan
Contestz; Netted By Words
Inspiration from:
Moonlight Ballerinas
Nette's presence is missed..
Light winds danced with tall trees.
Bare branches swayed in a slow harmony as
roots spread during an opus of a crispy moon.
Frosted leaves lay in gathering heaps;
victims of the equinox and winter’s dearth.
I communed with fairies upon a branch;
never argue with them while the lunar orb is high
lest you become lost on a path to nowhere.
I sang a hymn to the winter queen; hastily
a snowflake gently kissed my cheek.
Twas cool but savory, like first passions on lovers lane.
Her breath seemed real and tasted sweet in darkness.
The full moon was hanging like a slice of fresh lemon.
An epiphany created in the mind of Van Gogh.
Some, wrapped in dark cloaks, prayed to their goddess.
Peace finally returned to a cool, bewildered forest.
I simply sat quietly in a soft silky breeze.
I set out on a long journey by train
That spans from end to end
Out through the window flashed past
Assorted scenes one by one
Sky scrapers and mud hovels,
Steaming cities and peaceful hamlets,
Row upon row of maize and wheat,
Bent down under the weight of grain
Cars gliding along crowded streets,
Children school bound in crisp uniforms
Cattle grazing on distant hills,
Cadets on parade beside their tented camps
Smoke coiling up from tall chimneys,
Sizzling cascades from the heights
Swirling streams and glistening rivulets,
Silky meadows and tall mounts
Disposed not to enjoy the scenes,
My mind moored to the final halt
Saw nothing before, but the destination
My fellow travelers – a flaunting menagerie,
Communed with few, connected to none
At every halt, some exited out
And strangers came in to fill the space
But all to myself- my eyes far set
Damning the distance, I waited on and on-
A wretched lone traveler, like a sailor lost in the sea,
Restless I was to reach the shore,
My ears agog to shouts of welcome
My body eager for the warm embrace
I paced the aisles and counted the miles,
Impatient and irate, I grew
I dreamt, my life - a jig saw puzzle,
The pieces neatly fitting together
On arrival after a tedious trip
Once and for all, at my terminus
With my gaze fixed beyond the horizon,
Caring not to see what lies before
I continue to travel miles on end
To a place that outdistances me ever!
March.21. 2022
Form J- Just Write Me a New Poem
Sponsor- Constance La France
O'Sweet immutable night, come and embrace me, for it is because of great vexation that I have communed with my heart and soul.
O'Sweet immutable night, it is with true sorrow of the iniquity and vanity done under the sun that I seek the comfort of the night to be consoled.
O'Sweet immutable night for it is my languishing heart that I wish to escape the pollution of the evil inflicted spoils of mankind.
O'Sweet immutable night, propitiate my mangled mind.
O'Sweet immutable night, let not my weary soul be susceptible to the failings of another day of limitless debauchery.
O'Sweet immutable night, I beseech you to claim my yearning spirit with your compelling offer of release so that in my inwardly pining I will be free.
O'Sweet immutable night, let not my flesh again feel the burning desires of the sun.
O'Sweet immutable night, let not my eyes see, nor my ears hear the suffering of the weak in this world of rigorous agony being spun.
O'Sweet immutable night, let my burning compassion for justice cool under the unceasing comfort of generosity.
O'Sweet immutable night, let not another day that my body be a sapling bending to the implacable winds of injustice and atrocity.
O'Sweet immutable night, let the flesh of my body fall to the dry earth and not under the sun.
O'Sweet immutable night, let it be done let it be done.
O'Sweet immutable night, let not the memories of affliction impede me from this good night.
O'Sweet immutable night, let me rest here for the sunder of the holy rapture and the holy night.
copyright 2017Looking At The Light From The Bottom Of The Lake.
You don't have to
go through life alone
or obsess about obscurity.
To you, every ounce of faith
Will work.
And pure prayers said should be
communed with the Source.
And as you hold
And look to better things,
That Source forgiving ways pays.
You'll see things your visions
Never dared to believe.
The future starts now,
Like morning dew.
*
I cut a bouquet of fresh lilies,
and placed them in a sparkling crystal vase,
then sat idly by, admiring
the stillness of their beauty.
With no wind to tickle nor stir the petals
into delicious fragrant laughter,
nor gentle breezes to wisp pearls of pollen
through silky afternoon skies.
Leaving bees to grieve endlessly,
with buzzing moans of confused loss
and my nostrils flaring with drowning scents,
disappearing beneath the tepid waters held in artfully cut glass.
Through the faceted glistening colors,
stems reached thirstily for renewal of earth,
finding naught but the coldness of human conception,
as they forlornly communed with finality.
Water turning murky with tiny bits of green
and prematurely graying stalk,
as stamens pirouetted in concave shadows
and fairy bells fruitlessly spoke with nature’s pleading braille…