Best Gateway Poems
November, as the poets say -
autumn's demise, winter's gateway.
Its shortened days and longer nights
descending, death is in her sights:
leaves fall, as is their yearly fate,
while beasts prepare to hibernate.
November, as my lady lies
so silent, moving not her eyes -
with ashen skin, lips cold as death,
I wait in vain to feel her breath.
Her soul immortal, this I know,
yet in this life I'll grieve her so.
Written 26 November 2020
Intermingled in purpose;
hope, faith, and love
become the catalysts of life.
They are undefinable and yet
undeniable;
enhancing the realm of possibilities.
They remain intangible and abstract,
forming foundation stones
that support our souls
and shape our destinies.
Hope is a gateway emotion,
a precursor to faith,
that provides a pathway to happiness.
And Hope is the spark,
igniting desire's flame!
Faith fills a void in our hearts,
outside of ourselves.
And that feeling of fulfillment,
metamorphoses into love.
Love is the pinnacle of emotions
and the glue that bonds humanity together.
Nothing is more significant than love.
It's the one emotion God asks of us,
and the first blessing He offers us.
Wind can be a bit pushy
at times
Though I would be first
to admit
of needing nudges in different
directions
inclined to linger too long
under shady canopy
or at the seashore
gazing off into dreamy
horizon
my mind inclined toward
repainting sunsets
rearranging stars into
unique constellations
or writing poetry
strictly for sojourners
each poem a gateway
to ports further unknown
In the tissues of the dreams are all the threads of life
braided together into a mysterious image
She will love without shame,
for the man who wakes up in the man somewhere
Outstandingly beautiful, let go of the imagination
Guided by what the heart understands
Physics sets no boundaries
The night opens for a whole new world,
of unknown dimensions
Spread these dreams over high mountains
Obtain strength where it is to find without fear
Feel the sun warm even when it does not shine
Beautiful and emotional in a fate of mankind
The roses of life are born on a new day
23.05.2018
Sun :) - A-L Andresen :)
Copyright © All Rights Reserved
Two Dogs at the Gateway
By Sy Roth
They slurped their saliva,
huge globs,
big, barking mouthfuls
dripping from their jowls like milky icicles
Teeth-bared lips,
They guarded the gateway.
Pleased by their vacated spittle,
their noses now sniffed the air, and
like a marching band of electric ants
they ogled the nearing invader.
Anew, the soppy, conglomeration of spittle
wells at their muzzles
forming a frothy milkshake
determined to expel the approaching trespasser.
His hands stretched out flat in peaceful kindness,
prophylactic, heavy-breathing
moseying him to the gateway
wraps him in a pulsing eagerness.
A satyr’s blessing upon him as he approaches
Where the two dogs growled ominous presentiments--
Twin Cerberuses,
Headache kin of dashed wishes.
Evening shadows stifle all desires.
Lips part in anticlimax.
He rolls to the other side
away from the yapping hounds,
away from the uncomfortable pauses,
away from the anticipation
onto a sterile, flattened field
where done yet reeks of a flaccid fantasy.
A grotesquery of mordant imagination
content to sleep on the other side of the booming roar
away from the slurping beasts,
he drops hands down to his side.
Tomorrows march on and the gateway,
a finale wrapped in the twins’ slurping,
slams shut.
Tales of sacrificed fear
on scared tortured terrain
wild strengths smoldering beneath
tantrums of the fractious.
Gateway opens, rocks vault, liquids spew
fires burn and soil creep
Vented anger, terrifyingly unleashed
scarped lands and chard boulders
tinged bushes, strewn trees
flowed hard blackened beds
Gateway to Hell, Masaya volcano, Nicaragua.
Death, existence, come and go,
Like a tidal undertow…
Waves that toss us, winds that blow,
Raging storms and biting snow,
Hunger, anger, joy, and woe,
Hellish heat with burning glow…
Saints and sages ‘in the know’
Quibble bookish quid pro quo.
Artful seekers high and low
Chase illusions to and fro,
Board their boats and row, row, row,
Partially-illumined, though…
Ever-present, apropos,
Where true wisdom waters flow,
Those mind-opened practice, show
That enlightenment will grow
From the lotus seeds they sow
(Equally for friend or foe)
Of Nam-myoho-renge-kyo.
Mortals here on planet Earth,
Do we see a being’s worth?
Know the gateway to be free?
Realize where lies the key?
Ancient Buddhist scrolls unfurled,
Let us sense our inner world,
Walk around within, explore,
Enter through the Dharma door…
Lost will find what’s gone amiss,
In despair, in want, or bliss…
Humankind at precipice,
Life itself abides in this
Single all-embracing phrase!
Sounds profound, astound, amaze…
Who recites it sings its praise,
Dark of nights and bright of days…
Utterness Dharma
Wholly revealed!
Sentient karma
Lastingly healed!
And we plod on… fast or slow,
With the work in progress, so
As to render what was heard,
Each and every golden word
Of the Oral Teachings by
Nichiren… that is, we try—
Plus some Buddha Writings, more
Handed down from ages yore,
Many from the olden store
Still as timely as before—
Thus to offer, help bestow
This Nam-myoho-renge-kyo…
~ Harley White
* * * * * * * * *
[For Martin Bradley and Gerhard Lenz]
Nam Myoho Renge Kyo means to devote our lives to and found them on (Nam[u]) the Utterness of the Dharma [entirety of existence, enlightenment and unenlightenment] (Myoho) permeated by the underlying white lotus flower-like mechanism of the interdependence of cause, concomitancy and effect (Renge) in its whereabouts of the ten [psychological] realms of dharmas (Kyo).
[ See... .dharmagateway.org/harley_poems. ~ Poetry with a Buddhist Theme ~ by Harley White ]
sing out loud
Poseidon
hold up your trident
juggernauts request to sail
through
your
white cliffs
but
jagged waters
where
we
entered
Poseidon's Gateway
The Gateway
(Poetic End Cap)
The gateway between old and new
Whatever the future shall hold
Desire brings the heart into view
When everything does unfold
Dimensions bringing a new light
Through green pastures and waters still
Looking hopeful and sunshine bright
Towards tomorrows promised will
Love and faith shall bring many things
Soul deep, affectionate with love
Ever so pleasant angel wings
Send with His blessings from above
Evermore with a brighter view
With a gesture and happy smile
Enter the gateway walk right through
Heavenly home to live in style
Erich J. Goller
Copyright 6.16.2012
The world doesn’t care a dot
If I write poetry or not
Until the time when words are needed
To calm to support then poems are heeded
They bring a smile on a dark day
Lifting the soul as if to say
Read on my friend you will find
Solace and peace of mind
The great old poets are read and understood
Time is irrelevant when words are good
In time my words will disappear
to be resurrected another year.
Penned 14 Sept 2018
I was out on the street
I ran the hood like my life
My cash was that of powder
CHEQUES made from tablets
Church folk came to me for donations
Shop owners paid me for protection
I had twelve souls for my protection
& Had too much love for Prostitution
One morning the sun never pitched
One day, morning never came
One afternoon I laid on my back
One evening, my mother, a tear she did shed
I felt it sharp, I felt it hot
Metal through flesh, blood through my veins
I fell hard. Heart beating slow down
Slowly fading, slowly dying
Chest opening up, soul freely escaping
Mortal coil unwrapped, back to the oil
Eternal spirit back to the father
Then met death,
Now I sleep
Lantern Burn A Gateway
I waited at the edge of this deserted cave for you to come
to take me home.
Scatter my ashes in the hillside
Overlooking the blue sea
Paint my face with this red dirt. Harsh is this desert sand
The sun bakes my flesh and dissolves my saliva
My last day’s death a serpent cometh on me
In haste even my lantern bows slowly day by day
Day is night my oil burns fast
Hurry my love I wait.
Take me away from here remember me
The flight soars high always a bloom the exit only a new.
Pen paper all wrapped up my last sweat, last breadth
Last teardrop.
I made it my sweet; slow is your walk, my heels wish you near
Be close yet stay far.
I waited to play my harp for you
Come when the dice man role your numbers
No sooner, better yet later.
©2005 Pamela Creary PAC
Outside the sanctum, clenched teeth, tension,
a sense of being spun slowly, in comical ocean drift
Bobbed cork barely able to rein my orientation.
Luckily, current flux of haphazard happening flapped
a variable vantage.
Blown as though by silk hankie butterfly blessing
launched under lead light detail dragonfly wing
Inside the sluice.
tender seagrass arms greet me, surprise caressed
Silky entry to a tepid tub, a calm community
of smug inner sanctum club members, afloat.
Blind to bedlam, their faces automatically accepting
Smarmy, aloof, knowing the code
Clicked into correct holding pattern
Galvanized now among the longed for,
unlocked passage
Boasts a right angled me, porthole refuge
Catatonic sanctum immune to struggle
Bay of steady abundance
Top step mission for admission somehow granted mine
Spotlight shon on my cloned social demeanor,
Meticulously honed modesty of highbrow gallery.
24th February
Written for Contest: Gateway
Sponsor: Constance La France
Calamities come, nudge humans to pull
Apart from past, to forge their world anew,
A golden move of an olden life school--
A gateway from old world to skies all blue;
If geography wills history to repeat
That, earth gets her youth lost in hundred years,
If mankind makes her mind new world to greet,
No greener fronds might flash to wipe our fears.
Hope, man chooses to walk through this gateway
Leaving skeletons of the past aside,
All prejudice, hatred, vultures' greed grey,
All dead ideas on grandeur growth beside,
If only man sticks to the old adage-
Of walking light with Spartan life's luggage!
__________________________________________
Historically big pandemics have happened with a span of hundred years.
Nearly hundred years prior to Corona virus world suffered Spanish flu.
Before that, there was a plague and huge chunk of life was wiped out.
As a silver line, world always saw some substantive change for the better.
This calamity also can be viewed as an opportunity to change.
And change for a better tomorrow , if only....
Sonnets l 16.09.2020 l
I hear the strings being plucked into music
It surrounds through the mist, smooth and slick
No path to follow or way so clear
A distant figure looms, somehow a mirror
Closer in my arms stands the little one from before
I knew you would be here to meet me at the door