Best Emergence Poems
I manage my planned early rise in hopes dawn will kindly provide me
time before others converge in the joy bounce of family noise.
With silent glee for this vacation cabin, well worth our money splurge,
I tiptoe out to the porch.
Fresh, early morning beauty twinkle-dance performs upon the lake’s
sleepy surface and the sight sigh-settles bliss among my accrued
anxiety bits. Nature’s most enchanting chords sound-lift my awe
with full force as truth re-surges within my soul.
Morning in glorious emergence nurses me with a wordless,
restoring sermon felt purge. I watch life at the nearby pond
where birds group-peek for worms while three unconcerned swans
mellow glide behind the fronds.
Glad am I for nature’s catharsis to all in me the city daily twists.
I am so porch and nature settled, I nearly miss the eager kettle hiss
warning that family is in my midst and hungry for their morning grits.
Once upon a time
In the distant past
There was a country
Built by the sweat of her adopted children
And painstakingly through thick and thin
Became God’s own country
The light of the world
Whenever she spoke, the international community stood still
Enemy countries quaked and trembled
While allies scampered to mollify
The police officer of the world
Once upon a time
His Excellency epitomized leadership in times of global emergency
Today that is no more
Glory has departed from God’s own country
She has become a laughing stock in the comity of nations
A vicious and unscrupulous dictatorship is on the prowl
A clown in the mold of Donquizote is holding sway
Executive mendacity has become the order of the day
Don't cry to me America
Rescue your country from American dream gone awry!
Michael, archangel of the realm, instructed Gabriel and Raphael to be messengers of God's word to man. God in his love for man, stepped quietly back allowing men and angels their free will.
He said, "I'll wait and watch for each to find their way and when they're ready, I'll bring the home to me, if that is what they seek."
From that moment on, each was set free to forge their dreams, to build their empires, to love and live their lives.
On occasion, Michael left the earth to converse more closely with God. In those hours, Lucifer displayed his guile. When women and men felt alone and afraid in the desert, on the sea, in the great forests, Lucifer whispered in their ears and hearts of God's abandonment and therein birthed weakness, fear and doubt.
Then they were ensnared, and in their suffering, confusion, sickness, pain and dying, Lucifer poked and prodded their aching and they lost faith.
Rulers and kings, tyrants and dictators waged war despite the prayers of some. God heard their prayers, forgave them and loved them, promising a savior, a messiah who was yet to come. Mankind waited, longing and looking for a king to save them as the life, time and death passed them by.
Lucifer waited too, not as patiently, rising frequently from the depths, tempting both the women and the men.
Many took the bait he laid, breathing in the pleasure of discontent and embracing the temptation. Lucifer took hold over time, though his satisfaction waned. With pride and power, he was sure he proved God wrong.
The woman long ago was gone and there had been countless sons of man.
Living gods had rose and died and there were many more to come. Pharaohs and Caesars, Herods, Pilates and pharisees, and so many unnamed others would take power and wage war, depriving the lesser men of life and liberty.
Through the fearful darkness, the shadowed spectres and the light, hope still thrived and men and women waited, prophesying that a savior, a messiah might yet come and from the overwhelming darkness and despair, un-believed and un-accepted, there shone the light of hope and love and salvation.
Take her not away;
Lay her in my arms.
As night is bribed and swayed,
May day appraise my charm.
The rain falls in a cascade,
myriad droplets dancing—
a lilt of rain slithers,
serpentine around my skin—
a whisper of hope in the dusk.
In the garden,
the lunar sky still shines.
Through the nebula’s haze,
a new star is born,
a spark of phosphorus glowing,
guiding a way out of the dirt,
like the spark in my own heart.
Covered in petals of roses, the bed in where Felicity is laid...
Laid forever in beautiful white with the most radiant sapphire enlays...
The choir sings a dulcet melody, while a plethora of loved ones softly cry.
The old grandmother clutches her talisman listening to the rhapsodic praise with misted eyes...
The old woman quietly prays for an idyllic future, one where her Precious emerges from her chrysalis afresh and new...
New, just like the butterfly emerges, oh so beautiful from its own cocoon...
One by one the patrons look up to the church ceiling, to view an evanescent image dance in fading hues...
Then witnesses it disappear through the colorful stained glass smiling and giggling too...
Felicity is no longer in her cocoon, off to another world this Beautiful Spirit just flew...
monarch butterflies
decocoon
dawn's fire emerges
The sky beckons me open these eyes and we do
The owl and I
We turn our gaze unblinking to the sky,
The heavens above and together we see
We see as two the clouds are touched with cerise,
Sighing into deeper hues until they merge
Merge with the water drained cerulean tiredness of those many underbellies as if
As if the fresh colour can soothe the storm resting within.
The skies breathe down cool air, crisp . . . and clear
It touches everything
With something more than just life,
Carries with it the promise of tomorrow,
The foreshadowing of nature’s style awakening after the long winter’s cooling embrace.
As if she can barely contain her urge to scream
Scream out in freedom
As if she can barely contain her cries of stretching
Stretching out toes and fingers
Revelling in the these her first movements that bring
Bring forth the blooming promise
Whispered in the sky of summer’s raining sheaths of tresses caressing
Caressing this hungry earth.
With all the tired souls falling rapt by the newly forgotten tears
Tears still lingering in the lightly licking touches of grass yawning from sleep.
Yawning from sleep.
Beneath the timid warmth of our stretched out toes
When our souls are tickled
Tickled by the dew dropped eyelashes of the earth.
And . . .
And as always the moonset vanishes for this first kiss is only false
One like the first rays of dusk across the night swept sky and lands lingering
Lingering beneath the moon’s subtle glow,
That false dawn with all its memories intact of yesteryear.
Where once walked the souls of children undreamed
When we were young in the expanse of this our home
When the dirt beneath our bare feet was still untouched by time
And this
This is what I see in the sighing
Sighing of the midnight star.
March paints a vibrant collage
of charming gardens in bloom.
Birds arrive in entourage
as Spring emerges from Nature's womb.
March 5, 2022
March In Poetry Contest
Written in LIND30 Form - 7/7/7/9
Sponsored by Andrea Dietrich
Entombed alive, (albeit barely)..........Eased
Moisture drops drip from coffin lid...Mind melts
Escape seems implausible................Exhume me
Rigorously clawing.............................Raising the roof
Gasping, groping, grief.......................Ghastly gasses pass
Exit plan nixed.....................................Eyes focused on flicker
Now shouting......................................Nearer to light, (here in dark)
Code red..............................................Calming after my embalming
Yells.....................................................Enlightened, and no longer frightened
Consciousness is the scintillating blaze
alive on a smoldering log,
a flame emergent from complex interplays
of biology and environment.
Consciousness is greater than the cumulative
elements from which it is produced,
a roving free-form swirling cloud,
a wandering storm over the latest landscape.
Consciousness is always emergent
like an undulating flock of birds.
like the windswept grains of sand dunes.
Consciousness is collectively aware,
a normative quest linked to community survival,
a reaching within for a larger knowing.
Our God may be a force outside time and space,
a consciousness of collective consciousnesses,
a vast power offering the ethics of our survival,
an emergent property of our collective minds.
Here I am again
2 am
Dishing out the pain
Washing it all out
Breaking up the rust
So that it evaporates
So I can come out again
So I can see the sun again
God, I’ve missed that
Warm on my cheeks
I can feel it burning life
Into my eyes
In the pursuit of self,
I have lost your sense,
In thee thoughts of contentment,
I have lost your presence.
Solace is still in the way,
Straying me from your soul,
Still in dilemma of thoughts,
Who actually set this mirageous goal.
I am still aloof in the mob,
Surveillance effect lost its fervour,
You were there with me,
Then why this strange behaviour.
Something is somewhere wrong,
This mist ought to get cleared,
With a lost belief in my race,
I am all set be geared.
There is still a hope of ray persisting,
Your existence is still in hope,
I am drowning in sea of depression,
As if charged with a dope.
But then reality dies soon,
Virtual thoughts stays,
Sun only stand miles away,
We only felt his rays.
So It confirms my strayed belief,
Your participation is null and void,
I am a true and free soul,
Why should your orders I abide.
Its better you change your way,
I am up with mine,
No more sorry and misunderstandings,
My journey is starting for shrine.
A Fairy sits upon the leaves
And takes in the wondrous sights,
Breathes in the beautiful aromas
Watch children's eyes, sparkle bright.
It had been a long winter
She's happy to see flowers appear,
She basks in the sun's rays
Warm weather, is finally here.
Copyright Cynthia Jones
Apr.21/2007
Emergence And Layers
Everyone has layers
Unknown layers… are mysteries of your soul
Peeling back layers brings you closer to your core and soul
Revealing your core shines light on your soul
Your core and soul emerges for others to see and feel
You are known…
Sherry Barton