Best Dweller Poems
Line of inquiry: “the essence in us is the same as the essence of the sun” Unseeking Seeker
We are as the sun,
for in us is a light.
It’s the light of One
omnipotent and bright.
This essence – this glow -
we should appreciate.
We must let it grow
to burn all hate away.
Imagine if we all,
with our love lights showing,
could create a ball
like the sun’s and glowing.
Heaven on this earth -
it's possible to be
when we realize worth
in everyone we see.
We can be victorious
when kindness we impart,
mindful of the glorious
Dweller of our Heart.
When you exhale
Into my life
I become
Nothing more
Than
A bubble dweller
Sometimes you inflate
My dwelling with
gentle whispers
Of wind...
Increasing my self
Esteem with every
Every breath
I rely on you
For my
Habitat
But is this fair?
What if you're not
Conscious?
What if you
Forget
I live here?
What if you get
tired of blowing
Bubbles?
Will I
Cease to
exist?
Does my
happiness
depend on
The strength
Of your
Lungs?
I long to be
Free
Outside the transparent
Walls
Connected to
More than
Just you
At last my dwelling
Has bursted
I'm independent
Of you
Now you are
The proud owner
Of a bursted
bubble
Please morn me
And wish it wasn't
Over
Reload your
bubble making gun
Gently breath
In my solution
Until I pop
Find new life
For I am a bubble dweller
And you are
An engineer
Of bubbles
Sent from my iPad
Vibrant blissful presence, empathetic
Eager to serve whoever comes his way
Pure hollowed out form, always ecstatic
To the rhythm divine, in stillness sways
Spontaneous love bewilders ego
Throb of bliss brooks no thought interference
Flowing in gentleness sweet and mellow
Bubbling with joyous childlike innocence
As a humble conduit of the divine
Ceasing grasping, shifting to connecting
Content with benedictions God assigns
Aglow in bliss self-illuminating
His earth life unfolds in as is ordained
Persona nonchalant, pure and unstained
20-March-2021
this form is dust yet moves as though it’s alive
propelled by God’s breath, divine spark in our heart
too subtle to find so it’s useless to strive
unless we’re still causing ego to depart
and melding head with heart, flame of love revive
prayer on our lips being the way to start
with resolve and patience finding soul’s essence
living light eternal, our pure quintessence
having known now who we are nothing is gained
since whether we know or not, we are the Self
but having garnered wisdom, soul is unchained
and no fears or desires remain on our shelf
our childlike heart again pristine and unstained
trusting God fully as life flows by itself
poised in peace at all times in heart’s play station
viewing life’s a dreamlike manifestation
as a dweller of the void, beyond space-time,
one with God in a singularity field
bereft of attributes, no peaks left to climb
infinite is the power we therein wield
yet free from desire, we’re engrossed in love’s chime
acting spontaneously, needing no shield
self-existent in the splendour of our light
with time dissolved peace replacing bliss delight
Self is consciousness labels cannot define
being that wherefrom the universe arose
yet in pulse dual too found when we align
head and heart with love, the fragrance of a rose
causing nodes in form with bliss beats to align
accomplished whilst we yet remain in repose
wherein all we need to do is vaporise
that thus in doing so, God we realise
deeper yet within, truth of Self we pursue
recognising consciousness that’s absolute
a bright darkness from which nothing can break through
beyond all realms and music of Krishna’s flute
tightly packed energy known to sages few
yet we are That for it is our very root
one without a second, nothing else exists
known when we abandon ego’s to-do lists
(Line of inquiry: “the essence in us is the same as the essence of the sun”)
Sunrays warm my blushed cheeks--
calmness of daybreak dream's sweet adieu,
daylight spills through the meadow,
raising closed buds into bloom.
There, in sereneness before the world wakes,
the golden light whispers with gentle grace,
not just light, but presence—
ancient, not in sight yet felt,
it speaks not in words but in warmth.
There is no outcast, no distant star.
only brightened the wanderer's path,
This is the dweller of our heart.
Shining through flesh and fragile thought.
I remember when I listened:
I know my heart is not in flames,
But forged in stillness.
I'm not broken,
I'm not alone.
What regrets remain to repair,
which requires estranged souls to pair,
that thus so garnering clear sight,
we see all hearts glow in God’s light?
Whence unshackled from our mind tree,
though dwelling in form, soul is free
and as in time, peaks bliss delight,
we see all hearts glow in God’s light.
Transformed by love’s magnetic burn,
soul transmutes in mind-body urn;
when our aura’s hue becomes white,
we see all hearts glow in God’s light.
To reclaim our Self unalloyed,
we choose to plunge into the void,
whereupon from heavenly height,
we see all hearts glow in God’s light.
Line of inquiry: “the essence in us is the same
as the essence of the sun”
Dweller of Our Heart
I can’t hear its crackle or sizzle. What am I?
Swaddled in the all-encompassing wisdom
of light; it burns slow. I develop: a seed to die.
My eyes move as my head spins around the world.
There are only so many spaces my foot will land;
not on the moon; moonbeams in my burnt-orange hair.
Warm-blooded rays reach out and touch; skin to skin.
I illuminate someone else’s countenance with my smile.
My Summer eyes grab hold of theirs; a plum blush.
When Winter comes, I’m far-removed ; housebound.
Still, I will be replaced; it's not me. What are they?
If I was a deaf person
would you ever talk to me
Or would you just pass me by
In favor of simplicity.
If I was a blind person
Would you ever guide me through
Or would you just set me off to myself
For someone else to rescue.
If I was acrippled person
Would you ever carry me
Or would you just shun me off
Claiming to much difficulty.
BUT
If I was just a lonely person
Huddled up in my cardboard home
Would you ever stop by to visit
Or simply leave me alone !
Poor cave-dweller, come out!
Come breathe the fresh air.
Life is waiting for you
out there.
Living in darkness
with despair
ages you
and greys your hair.
Come to the light
and leave the haze.
It's waiting for you.
Catch its rays.
Just look up
and never give up!
By: Carole O'Terry Duet
Copyright: 5/22/2017
"All Rights Reserved"
A people full
of speech
with no attitude
of progress.
Forest Dweller.
forest dweller all in green shape shifting with eyes never yet seen
a movement of a branch then bows delightfully where once he has been
walking like the leaves rustle but quiet in mean
birds sit upon him unknowing because he is part of the scene
he loves the rain for he hears all of the forest and all of the animals together as they loudly sing
when all light surrounds him he is invisible to see as the light of his body is the most perfect translucent of green
the forest dweller becomes tired soon after as the sun goes in
he once again changes to become darker and as the sun sets he lies amongst the woodland moss to sleep and dream of the day when it rained and the whole of the woodland wood beautifully sing.
Heart Dweller
Dwelling in the heart , the heart dweller
Making the way of life;
Inclining to the emotions and feelings
Reaching the gate of thy;
Ephemeral were your words and phrases
Breaking the promises of mine;
Your characters and attitudes, whatsoever
Being the effeminate for masculine;
Boasting upon the qualities and traits
Is your weakness not of mine.
*Holly (Vault Dweller)*
Hey bartender,
Who's that girl over there,
The one nursing the whiskey in the corner,
She has that press hat one that makes her look...strangely debonair.
*Bartender*
That'll be our little Ms. Piper Wright,
She runs the local paper,
Spends all day looking for a story then types the rest of the night,
Bit standoffish at first but quite the looker.
*Holly*
Hahah I'll say,
Just look at that red trench-coat and suit,
And that piercing stare,
Comes off tart as a mutfruit,
But it just bounces right off her wavy hair,
And goooosssh those lips,
Their silky sheen betrays the steel of her gun,
Dangling from her buxom hips,
Armed with an unabashed tongue,
Clearly her deadliest weapon,
Complimenting her feisty spirit perfectly preserved in an hourglass figure both fair and young,
Fully stocked with an arsenal of wisecracks, worthy armaments for free speech's most sensuous bastion,
Avid journalistic endeavors personify her inquisitive nature,
Reporting the most controversial conspiracy or the latest Publick Occurrences,
With jaw-dropping headlines fueled by her insatiable determination not even the mayor can escape her snooping typewriter,
How this vixen has eluded both the aging of time and voraciousness of lovers is beyond me,
And I think I'm allllmost drunk enough to go over and talk to her,
Should only take me another couple of rounds before I'll have the guts to...ah who am I kidding,
I'm over 200 years old there's no way she'd ever go for a pre-war relic regardless of who well preserved.
*Bartender*
News flash buddy, she's single,
Read today's headlines and you might find the subtle hints,
Listen to her playful comments of life and lust weaved in-between the innocuous babble,
The words may take their place in the articles but her true message is hidden underneath the paper's yellow tint,
She's young and lookin for love just the rest of us here in the Wasteland,
So what've you got to loose hotshot go get her,
Or do you need another round on the house give you the upper hand?
*Holly*
Well damnit bartender one more round it is,
If you don't from her till morning it'll be one of two things,
Either I've been utterly rejected and lying in a ditch,
Or I'll be too busy ignoring the world trying to make her mine.
His life echoes in misery in his tin house,
as the arms of the law crackdown on rioters,
who get their money from politicians.
Selling second-hand clothes is his main job,
but the council officers extort money from him,
leaving him dry, frustrated and teary. His face shows
he's seen a lot in his lifetime, with scars from a failed
leadership system.
His neighbors steal his hard earned cash,
when they have a deathly debt on their necks,
or they have lost all their money on a soccer bet.
The problems in his neighborhood repel back to him,
for he is part of the neighborhood,
no matter how innocent he is. The flying toilets,
garbage, broken sewerage, and broken promises by leaders
are all part of anyone living in the slums.
Some years back a stray bullet pierced through his tin house,
hitting his wife's chest; she now rests with angels in heaven.
His children wander in the streets, looking for money;
by the end of the day, they come, their esteem deflated
with abuses, kicks and broken dreams.
He looks up at the blue sky,
and wonders whether one day the rains will finally
come with his blessings....
Quick, with gliding stride
Adapting to urban life
Coyote survives
Hard to believe..
but there are coyotes in San Francisco