Best Fusing Poems
through a tiny lens
held firmly with hands
eyes gaze in awe..
with a simple twist
colours explode harmoniously
bright, sparkling,blinding..
the colours are stunning
so vivid, so alive
with truth as in life..
this ever changing vision
is but broken glass shards
not whole, not complete..
simple, plain, tiny pieces
they don't fit, they don't belong
different shades, different sizes..
fragmented, swirling on command
no direction,they stop; at one's touch
and through this seemingly disconnect..
therin lies their beauty
for these tiny glistening pieces
imperfect jewel tone shades, dance; together..
revealing the essence of life,
humanity and all who breathe
for they gloriously join; naturally..
to inspire joy, excitement, wonderment
the green piece could be a used wine bottle
tiny violet piece from a castaway vase..
regardless of their origin
these magnificant, illuminating pieces
unite as one and magically dance..
with truth as in life
beauty is as beauty does
fusing together, naturally, effortlessly..
kaleidoscope..
broken shards now glistening jewels
the spirit of every man, woman and child
is part of this most magical creation..
for every size, shape and gorgeous hue
is us; in every race, age & size
coming together, to create, to inspire..
tunnel vision seamlessly vanishes
as eyes are opened; captivated
at the wonderment, joy and harmony of..
becoming one; beautifully and with faith..
kaleidoscope.
The Dark Side of October
Late October moon is waking, through this cemetery shaking,
shaking as the cold wind breaking, walking ‘neath an old oak tree.
Stones like sentries undertaking, guarding graves as hearts are aching,
aching for the still ones staking, such an eerie sight to see –
dark and dreary, I’m so leery, such an eerie sight to see –
is this but a reverie?
In the graveyard shadows shimmer, dark of night is growing dimmer,
dimmer still without a glimmer, shadows ‘round the old oak tree.
Shadows dancing ever nearer, nearer still and getting clearer,
clearer like distorted mirror, twisting ghastly sight to see –
growing vastly, looming lastly, such a ghastly sight to see –
certainly a reverie?
Piercing sounds are penetrating, ear drums deafening pulsating,
ringing louder, devastating, echoes off the old oak tree.
Echoes bouncing screeching grating, ever louder agitating,
instigating, fears creating, from this ghoulish sight to see –
Am I mulish, maybe foolish, such a ghoulish sight to see –
surely just a reverie?
In the dark my head is spinning, round and round these sights imprinting,
fusing on my brain beginning, questioning my sanity.
All these sights and sounds are weighing, weighing as the ghouls are playing
playing as they do their preying, preying on my vanity –
I am praying, ghouls are swaying, preying on my vanity –
have I lost my sanity?
Eerie night just seems persisting, lasting as my mind is twisting,
waiting for daylight’s assisting, lighting up the old oak tree.
Eerie sights and sounds now fading, dark of night for daylight trading,
light of day is now invading, leaving me to clearly see –
seeing nearly, life so dearly, oh so clearly now I see –
must have been a reverie…..
or have I lost my sanity?
July 26, 2018
I will always remember the moment we met.
(Haunting woodlands in springtime, your slim silhouette)
The glint in your eyes sparked a tempest at dawn
overwhelming the dreams of a slumbering fawn.
I will always remember your singular smile
(Fusing fantasies, fancies and phantoms the while)
when I brought you a daisy, then fled from the room,
weaving dizzy designs on a mystical loom.
I will always remember first touching your hand.
(Like the wing of a sparrow, frail fingers were fanned)
With my heartbeat aflutter, I jittered with joy -
on the surface, a man, though inside still a boy.
I will always remember the sound of your laugh
(Merry mermaid amused in a summer sea bath)
as we strayed 'long the strand, for a moment, alone,
with your tresses a’ tousle and tumbled and blown.
I will always remember your breath on my skin
(Seeking castles in chaos, a spirit in spin)
as you drew me aside and our tongues first entwined -
tangled twists of amour had begun to unwind.
I will always remember the fires of love.
(Shades of autumn ablaze in the tree leaves above)
Crazy passions ignited whenever we lay
painting stars in the night with the dazzle of day.
I will always remember the nightingale's tune.
(Divinations awash neath a ruddy blood moon)
When we kissed to its cadency, laughed as we danced,
lurking lanterns in limbo forged shadows enhanced.
I will always remember the shattering knell -
(Wanton words tolled in winter... ‘Adieu, dear... farewell’)
just a note near a nook where so often we slept
which I read and reread and reread while I wept.
I was cursed with ink
intoxicating blank canvases
with toxic scribbles,
releasing twisted tales
of suppressed troubles.
I was a forsaken ebony rose
in satan's grasp,
kneeling on ungodly needs
in a gothic fortress
of woeful odes,
surrounded by black knights
and colorless blossoms,
searching for legitimate sestinas
and versatile villanelles
to ignite my quill to bleed
without semantic barriers.
Swaying like a pendulant,
on the edge between
light and darkness,
resembling midnight's
black ice queen,
I thirsted for a
universal prophecy.
A poet who would engrave
perennial verses upon my
discoloured healing heart.
To paint antique stones,
during sunless days
in a moonless kingdom.
A calligraphic catharsis,
adorning the sincere crown
of an imperial ivory king,
whose angelic voice
glitters like gems,
soothing insensitive beating drums
within my pondering pensive mind.
A majestic master of his quill,
reviving poetic intimacy,
fusing his musings
deep inside untouched chambers
with an unscratched itch,
of my undanced fandango.
F a t e has a way for
versifiers to assimilate.
From the first drop
of his couplet,
he had my tongue
rhyming to the rhythm
of his unspoken lyrics.
Now, I am a slave to
what I have become.
Handcuffed and blindfolded
by preserved petals
between perfumed pages
written from the tip of his
magical wand like fingers.
I am weaving crystal quartz
words in witching hours,
whilst he pours dulcet musings
incensed in white sage
over my rustic bronze silhouette,
as I am his willing mistress:
a submissive subservient pawn
to his silent slavery.
Throned in intricately carved
prose and poetry,
where monochrome strokes
of thin lines no longer perish.
There’s no need for a sorcerer
when his sentimental sonnets
are an addictive elixir.
I am deliriously comatose
and chained in piercingly
euphoric sagas of his saccharine soul.
Even Lilith seized the moment
to behold what belonged to her
In the name of infatuated love.
So this is me, stealing
scented seeds
sown along parallel paradigms
of his rightful Parnassian paradise,
d r o w n i n g in
metaphorical monograms,
leaving memoirs of a poetess~
seething glitters and gold
reborn from the depths of
a savior that saved
me from burnt chapters
of darkest oblivion.
Love,
where do you bloom, unseen?
Have you become absorbed
in a world, where I do not belong.
Once, when I sat upon your shores,
lost in the depth of infatuation,
I held you tightly in
the palms of my hands,
hoping promises of 'forever'
would not only be words
but you evaporated like a
cloud in the darkest night,
abandoning me within the
realms of recycled emotions.
I had read about you in poetry,
so I wrote a few verses to honour you,
portrayed your grace through artistry,
so I could gaze at your soft pastels,
yet, here I remain
devoid of your devotion.
Now I ponder,
from all the beloveds and
all the versions of love -
which one is for me?
Must I,
search for you among mountains,
or sandcastles upon abandoned islands.
Is there path I must seek,
is there a guide that I can follow.
Must you,
veil yourself behind metaphors,
whilst fusing through musical musings,
frustrating through lyrics,
still unheard to my soul.
I wonder
if you are only true in fairy tales.
And in your betrayal,
if the world really knew you,
would they still yearn for your complexities.
If only there was a marketplace,
where I could barter and
purchase you for a fair price
but when has love ever been equal.
The horizons keep mimicking romance
and I hope those who follow the moon,
can eternally dance under its moonlight,
but every night there is a hidden
solitary star sparkling all on its own.
My heart fluctuates between
new sunrises and old sunsets,
hoping love will wait for me,
before my spirit fades,
so, I can have a love,
which I can call my own.
"Brave New World"
In a Clear Blue World
spirits strike matches
inner flames capture
dancing magnetised
towards intimate
Shining Light
melting like
liquid diamonds
Ultra Muses
fusing bright
magic lyrics
healed compositions
mirrors merge tight
no division
hearts forever blooming
unfurling like sweet
Anais Nin’s Roses
they’re salty divination kiss
sheer delight, rapture union
hear their kindest war cry
Revelation's arriving -
LOVE REVOLUTION,
it’s a
Brave New World.
(Lovejoy-Burton/2018 Jan)
1.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eJSik6ejkr0
2.
Psalm 13 For the director of music
Matthew 14:22-33
Colossians 3:14
3. Anais Nin Roses
He sang sweet songs, sweet needle point lullabies
His eyes were crystalized, their awestruck blackness ate me whole
I stayed mesmerized by his carelessness and smooth complexion
He spit ease and promised comfort
His perversions helped to define me
He fed off the helpless story my eyes told
Like a rat chewing holes in already worn socks
The deeper the needle dug, the closer we became
2 more strangers brought together by a spoonful of pretty crystal flakes,
Praying for something better
The dope trampled through our veins, fusing us together
I take the shot and let it break me to pieces
I become fragments, collaged together to make one unnecessary disaster
I am legs. I am eyes. I am lips. I am warmth. I am sultry. I am body language.
I am delirium. I am carelessness.
I am 37 flavors of wreckage
I am the thrust in his hips and the look in his eyes. I am property.
I am the dope sack and the remains left behind
I am just weight on the mattress
I am another girl on another motel bathroom floor
I am the holes in my arms
I am confined, super glued to a picture of a drug addicted whore
Yet, I still believe I am endless
I stay paralyzed in this moment, in my fear of a better way
In this ecstasy
I stay paralyzed in my regrets, in my remembrance of all things lost
In all the moments I lost my control in an empty dope bag
It wraps around me like lights on Christmas tree
My bad decisions and remorse surround me
In a cheap motel room with broken windows and a broken tv
It breathes in my heartbreak and exhales my defeat
I am alone but my broken parts fit right in
The sticky windows separate us from daily life
This is a place of isolation, not escape
The morning sun doesn’t shine on us
We’re just chasing after freedom in the wrong place,
Singing our needle point lullaby.
My poems are words with soul - Silent One.
As a monotone morning sketches
charcoal trees under
smoke filled foggy skies,
rain casually falls,
sliding down slate roofs,
causing havoc for traffic
on bustling roads.
Red lights seem to shimmer,
shining through shades of grey,
as the sound of raindrops drip
against my BMW's black bonnet,
my mind drifts nonchalantly,
discarding beeping horns and FM beats.
I ponder
is it an act or is it an art
this thing they label as life,
living with a formula formed and forged
from a mix of experiences and emotions.
I begin to question myself.
(why do we do that?)
I seem to have adopted a sense of vulnerability,
fusing feelings of fragility,
since my hair infused into silver (yes I chose silver over grey) -
something my father warned against.
But I'm not as tough as him,
although he wasn't half the man I am...
Yet what I have seen and heard,
has ultimately made me who I am today
and in all the suffering I have
always searched for the light -
Rumi was right.
Maybe I'm too open minded,
too fair in this field of selfish spirits.
Maybe I'm not loyal enough to my beliefs,
which contradict my moral compass
and philosophical projections,
but I've never claimed to be saint.
My soul is telling me to shut up..
I've always wondered if I'll ever be understood..
At least I understand me - but is that any consolation?
It's not as simple as wisdom accumulating.
Sensitivity of a smile can never be underestimated.
You have to peer beyond the verbal,
non verbal - comprehend the action.
Sometimes I feel unloved,
many times invisible,
yet I seem to come alive in loneliness.
Would I be a plaintiff or defendant
in a court of your judgment?
I will always represent myself.
Words with speech have never been true confessions,
as my thoughts are too deep,
sometimes too unreliable,
that's why I never pen them down -
it scares my soul (who tells me again to shut up).
I wonder if I make sense. Soul calls it nonsense.
Green flashing circle says I can go.
An abrupt end to contemplation.
Sadly grey tones and
tints of tiredness remain.
Simple Musing
8 December 2023
I wished to ascend,
so I called a friend,
who knew of such things
and how to grow wings.
‘God’s abode’s within’,
he said, ‘so begin,
by simply choosing,
head and heart, fusing’.
‘Each impulse distil,
aligned with His will’.
So I set out thus,
aboard God’s love bus.
I reached heaven’s gate
and there chose to wait,
for the gate was locked,
so I stood there docked.
A voice then affirmed
that I’d have discerned,
the gate’s my ego,
which I must forgo.
Once there’s no blockage
and no desires rage,
cleansed of every sin,
I may then walk in.
I cowered in fear,
for my life was dear.
What’s left, if I die?
Is heaven, a lie?
Conscience egged me on,
ego shorn, reborn,
the false dropped away;
I saw then God’s play!
I was living light,
shining day and night.
The gate was but thought,
fears, ego begot.
The manifest world,
but intent unfurled,
to know all are one,
each being God’s son.
Life’s a lucid dream,
where thought forms do stream.
To exit this game,
simply take God’s name.
The rot’s sunk in deep.
How long will we sleep?
There’s no gate, dear friend.
Vaporise! Ascend!
23-June-2022
One In Five Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Joseph May
Syllables: HMS
My body’s friend, the Chiropractor
gives me exactly what I’m after.
A reduction of serious pain
in my skeletal frame is my aim.
To be enabled to be able
keeps me mentally stable.
For years in my pain, Doctors said “no don’t go,
those Chiropractors are your foe!”
So doctors fed me pain pills and charged me too much,
talked of expensive therapy, operations and such.
Possible fusing could be motion losing.
The therapy never did the trick,
And the pills just made me sick.
So I tried to be believing and nice,
but went against the Doc’s advice
because I could barely walk
and had to work,
my body in shock.
Saw that Chiropractor, took his advice
and at a very reasonable price.
That was my first whose name was Dr B.
He helped me immensely.
The pain left quickly.
I was no longer sickly.
My current Chiropractor uses an activator,
He’s a dedicated rejuvenator.
A friend recommended him twelve years ago,
For needed maintenance, I still go.
So many times to my elation,
he’s saved me an operation,
because of the sensible characteristic,
That his Chiropractics are holistic.
Doctors have their place and if it needs be so,
My chiropractor will tell me to go.
So Doctors, curb your pride and make the confession,
CHIROPRACTICS is a Most Noble Profession !
copyright : Written by Robert A. Dufresne 7/23/11
( A heart felt thanks to my Chiropractors, Dr B. in Vt.
and Dr. R. S. here in Florida. God bless you both. )
Unrest is the tempestous,
world seems out of favor...
malignant beseem the superflous,
sour,ill-tempered neighbors...
But...
The grass is always greener,
at your side of our choosing...
you've made me a believer,
love's hallmark unites fusing...
You are,
The soft to my hard
a sheath for my sword,
like whisperings of a bard
you are the calm to my storm....
Petite she may be, but her words say otherwise
Extremely intelligent, simply read through her writes
Themes of mix, appropriates my eyes
Inner thoughts of her peripheral, leaves me to sigh
Testament to her faith
Everlasting, it's in her eyes
Poetry plays a part, massively in her life
Outwardly there's that smile, wonderfully rife
Emitting, oozing warmth, infectious she be
Thermal is her heart, fusing you and me
Exceptional she, and she will become
She being the Petite Poetess
Simply, she's the one.
Children of summer yearn for Gemini moon.
To gaze at porcelain light beaming from high.
As twilight kisses stars in mild midnight June,
stalwart sun-kissed blooms soar towards sable sky.
Soul's at peace, fusing with nature's mellow tune,
but knowing scents will fade, brings tears to the eye.
Fate seems fragile for blossoming butterflies,
who crave to migrate where seasons harmonise.
'Vanity of vanity, all is vanity... and chasing after wind'
evokes a mood of despair, precious few grins
Ecclesiastes is read in most synagogues on Sukkoth
though it might not win any congregants' votes
Yet after chasing rainbows and riches throughout his life
King Solomon, who after all, married hundreds of wifes
Came to the conclusion that most eventually do
Our fortune is there in our home, right in plain view...
Be kind, do good deeds for others
All men are your brothers
Fear God and fulfill His every command ~
The ultimate purpose of Man
______________________________________________
Notes: The first line above is quoted from Ecclesiastes 1:1.
The last two lines above are taken from 12:13.
The Festival of Sukkoth (rhymes with 'boat') begins 20
minutes before sundown, Sunday, Oct. 09, and (the first
part) ends 45 - 90 minutes after sunset on Tuesday, Oct. 11
(There is an 'intermediate portion' of the Festival from Tues-
day night through next Sunday afternoon, followed by a con-
cluding Festival, Shemini Atzereth, from Sunday evening
through Tuesday night next week. (And yes, it can get con-
fusing, esp. with a Sabbath during the intermediate days).
How our flame seems to burn
like a wildfire on mountainside
only to become coursed by the wind
changing directions to begin again
All of nature from a distance
across the rivers bank
can only stand in awe
in view of our flaming fury
burning with every touch
melting each to the core
as fusing the finest ores
I am your wick to your lantern
you are my deepest resevoir
of limitless oil....
you are my infinite universe
unexplored spaces
which I can't ignore
my venusian heaven of love...
You are all that....and more