Best Initiates Poems
Butterfly Landings
It’s a precarious perch
High by a skydive
In such a leap of faith
A leap of love
Circumnavigates these boots of Earth
Fellow to the stratospheres
These butterfly landings
Of you in my heart
Destinies lance
Has shot me full to the sun
On the twirling chant sung
Ever re initiates
And sounds the river onward runs
Always
Of your name
Settles red iridescence
To tip the scales
These butterfly landings
Of you in my arms
I see you in precognitions
Flashes
In my obsessions of your hair
Lip-syncing to the kisses
In my passions of your eyes
Where my heady desires evolve
This molecular bonding’s
These butterfly landings
Of you inside my soul
It’s a precarious perch
To expressive to encapsulate
How much I love you
It’s a peculiar laugh
That admits I have never even met you
But all of you inexorable
I am conceded to the pull
I am bound to the groundings
In these butterfly landings
Of you
( Everything I am
Everything I do
Wrapped inside
Those landing butterflies
I cannot express
In any vocabulary of words
Only in the dictionary of unspoken eternals
Lay the definitions of
How much I love
How much I need
How much I want
You
They beg with you
This man on bended knees
How this strength in me
Pleads
Come back to me
Come back to me )
Categories:
initiates, lost love, lovebutterfly, love,
Form:
Free verse
“Daisy Hill”
a garden to please
distant, yet ever near
in splendid hue.
Yet here now
the chill of winter’s
wrath, which initiates
spirited breath.
Tenderness
upon the bypass where,
memory does walk
through days gone by.
“Manor Garth”
place of sorcery
speculator, astute
evil and wry.
Industry
without face without
grace, a mechanical
tragedy here.
A shop floor
for humanity
searching, if only to
plead sanity.
Amber leaves
rattle the naked highway,
like windswept flocks from
mountains high.
Dry stone walls
history riddled shout,
along country roads
and velvet sky.
“Cuckoo Nest”
guardian of the moorside,
stone walls devoid
living blood wilt.
Millstones prise
out a condolence yet,
parched with canopy in
“Nab wood” Built.
Rock’n’Roll
ricochets upon
“Chelker” A mind in tune
harmony wise.
Bicycle
breaks the silence of night,
before rolling clouds
will the sunrise.
© Harry J Horsman 2022
Categories:
initiates, nostalgia,
Form:
Free verse
Along this foggy daybreak stroll,
I tread along the intersection
between Mabini Street and EDSA boulevard,
crossing number 25 Ortigas Road.
I breathe in the same grain
of Manila pollen and dust itching
my throat ; an acrid mound of city garbage
gathered by rain’s aftermath,
as if to beckon another tropical deluge;
and the loud chatter of headlines
from the newspaper stand pierces
the lobes with a burning jolt… a bundle
of political scoops and trade rumors
grating an otherwise neutral hour.
Few distances away, a flea market stand
vibrates with energy; pedestrians milling
around to check buko pies, plum bits,
and homemade guava jams… the exotic aromas
mixing with smoky flavor of dried bamboo leaves
on top of abaca wares; all these catering
to small pleasures of the low-middle working class.
Curving through Francis Square, a deluge
of movement initiates the 7 30 am rush…
buses, cars, and taxi- stands unload
a giant hive of wayfarers coming from
different points of the map; dragging
their skeletal frames like ticks of a clock.
Amidst a Friday hub, I stop to glance at the
towering statue of Mother Mary as a
cart-pusher slowly wanders by; his warm
smile bearing a contrast in a region
where the rat race of man is typical.
Surrounded by a collage of fragrant
eucalypti and mango trees, I breath in
a sense of delight likened to my
yard’s garden, this time, with heady scent.
The plump oaks at the front lobby
of Pharmo Industries are shedding
foliage, while a painted splash
of native robins cruises from laced twigs,
far beyond the clutter of newspaper stands,
market place, and taxi-stands.
My gaze casts inward to balance my thoughts,
as I begin my protracted stay at work.
Stand Contest of Debbie Guzzi
and Nathan's One of Your Best
by nette onclaud
Categories:
initiates, introspection, life,
Form:
Free verse
The greatest minds are mocked and heckled,
but are usually right.
The greatest knowledge, is usually found,
in the simplest places.
Dreams if not a catalyst, to initiate the revelation
of truth; often contain the truth.
Look within for the golden chalice; the legendary
“Grail”; you’ll find it wrapped in the “golden fleece”.
Wisdom is gleaned in flight across the veil;
no soul, seeking light, is abandoned to the dark.
Mind comes from mind, returns to mind, lives in mind.
The enlightened never use the word, can’t.
If “ignorance is bliss”,
skeptics must be the happiest creatures on Earth.
The gift of denial never pays to light one single candle.
Light is provided free, to the open mind;
the greatest minds are the wires, through which,
the human batteries are charged;
universal mind initiates the transfer.
The light in the darkness, the dreams that come true,
should never be doused by the waters of ignorance.
Categories:
initiates, education, poems, poetry, wisdom,
Form:
Prose
The brazen wind flows through the naked trees,
where multitudes of scrawny fingers attached
to stout limbs conduct the aria.
the trill of the dawn
awakes the sedulity…
a wee tad foisty
With each sunrise a regimental instinct, as the craw of
the crow delivers the day, when as the lone Bugler
at his post, reveille resounds upon a torrent stream.
the chill of winter
initiates spiral breath…
fruit rots on the ground
The tempest from the Southern Ocean evokes nakedness
within this place, destroyer of all that was verdant, yet an
act of kindness, to ready life for spring to live once again.
through the morning mist
air is turning icy blue…
the tide rushes in
© Harry J Horsman 2022
Categories:
initiates, nature,
Form:
Haibun
Some gates are difficult to open
while others are open all the time
Tall, low, simple or elaborate
and someone who needs a tightener
To make the path narrow and the gate high
or was it the other way around ... (?)
The grass is not always greener
on the other side
The gate is for the initiates only
so has been,
since other generations passed by ...
When the gate was closed,
it was closed forever
I hear the hum of lazy bumblebees
21/07/2021
Sun :) - A-L Andresen :)
Copyright © All Rights Reserved
DOORS Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Anthony Biaanco
9th place in the contest
Categories:
initiates, inspiration, life, nostalgia, old,
Form:
Free verse
I’m told the pen’s mighty and outwits the sword
but my finger is stronger and won’t be ignored.
It pokes and it swipes and it rants in a roast
then it quickly DELETEs to disguise my last post.
Though swords, they can cut, and pens, they can shame
the press of a button initiates flame.
All humor aside, I’ll admit it’s a crime
when I set fire to gasoline, dressed up in rhyme.
So, I’ll UPLOAD with caution and hold taut my lip
and think before shooting my words from the hip…
and I’ll walk-off responses so quick to offend,
keeping fingers off buttons like RE-ply and SEND.
Categories:
initiates, anti bullying,
Form:
Couplet
Like sparks trailing
from a million, billion fireflies,
a single thought limns a trillion suns.
From the first small bonfire
flickering across four million years,
whose light imprints itself
upon the canvas backdrop
of a feckless, barely cohesive Infinity,
the matter of man, no more than
the past, transmogrifies the future --
denies the import of "real" or "black"
or any other type of matter.
Yet existing, it defines the local locus
of now and when ... and how and then.
The freezing cold of space
burns like energy backfiring on itself.
Somewhere, celestial lightshows
flare across parsecs of near emptiness.
Liquid oxygen fuels
the laboring lungs of multitudes,
singing out the music of the spheres,
maestros of a trillion symphonies,
platelets in the lifeblood of the Universe.
Like a Coriolis wave that imprints itself
upon a formless sandstorm,
a thought burns itself
into the very fabric of Eternity,
opens like a budding flower,
and initiates its own realities.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4ibPT24qMTw
Author notes
Je suis un Capricorn.
]
This is my Desiderata.
Written December 2nd, 2005
Categories:
initiates, 9th grade, poetry, space,
Form:
Free verse
Making the most of our talents and interests,
All around anticipation allows awesome attitudes
‘Xtra ‘xciting ‘xpectations ‘xpand possibility thinking
Illustrious inspiration instigates incentives and ideas
Magnitude of momentous meandering means meaningful masterpieces
Imagination clarifies and entices us to stretch to our limits
Zealous zest zings people into accepting affirmations and actions
Eager enthusiasm initiates additional interest, enhancing ideals.
Categories:
initiates, inspirational,
Form:
Acrostic
FEAR
Feeling tired, washed up, drained
Moody, irritated, relationships strained
Life’s journey just filled with inevitables
Questions answered in mono syllables
What initiates this fearful condition
Invades your space without permission
Starts out small yet urgently this knot in the gut
Leaves you nowhere but sadly stuck in a rut
Attacks your senses blurs your vision
Negative thoughts follow with precision
This surgery will change you to the core
You’ll think a woman not loved anymore
Fear is the venom a tragic lethal dose
Remember when fear comes faith goes
Though this body of death will eventually decay
Just identify the positives in each new day
When negative thoughts your mind assail
Encompass it with faith drape it like a veil
Dispel those thoughts send a message clear
You are wonderfully made with nothing to fear
Categories:
initiates, anxiety,
Form:
Quatrain
How blessed are we to enjoy our relationship* with the Lord
Since we’ve been bound to Him with His salvation-cord
We can come to Him, yielding ourselves to the grace He does afford
Thru the invitation He declares in His Word.
How blessed are we to commune with the Lord without hesitation
Since we’ve become His children by virtue of His adoption
We can talk to Him, expressing ourselves in earnest supplication
Thru the answer He assures by His compassion.
How blessed are we to stay always in the Lord’s presence
Since we’ve been forgiven by His purifying license
We can worship Him, immersing ourselves in His holy magnificence
Thru the cleansing He grants for our souls' effervescence.
How blessed are we to seek the Lord freely for our faith’s refining perfectly
Since we’ve become His heirs by His blood-priced sacrifice truly
We can meet Him, humbling ourselves at His throne sincerely
Thru the fellowship He initiates blissfully.
How blessed are we to cling to the Lord with divine intimacy
Since we’ve been redeemed by His tender mercy
We can cleave to Him, submitting ourselves to His might's fervency
Thru the help He offers midst turmoil of urgency.
How blessed are we to be acquainted with the Lord’s ways
Since we’ve become His new creation to give Him praise
We can live for Him, delighting ourselves in His work all our days
Thru the love He covers us, wrapped by His care’s embrace.
How blessed are we to abide in the Lord to experience His glory
Since we’ve been rescued from hell’s damnation and sin’s misery
We can serve Him, committing ourselves to share Gospel story
Thru the blessings He provides along His promised victory.
*Psalm115:15 Ye are blessed of the LORD which made heaven and earth.
September 25, 2019
Edited on May 25, 2022
Categories:
initiates, appreciation, blessing, christian, devotion,
Form:
Rhyme
(December-January))
The brazen wind flows through the naked trees, where multitudes of scrawny fingers attached to stout limbs conduct the aria.
the trill of the dawn
awakes the sedulity
a sense of fragrance
Each perpetual morning a regimental instinct, drives along the day, when as the lone Bugler at his post, reveille resounds upon the streaming torrent.
the chill of winter
initiates spiral breath
fruit rots on the ground
The tempest from the Southern Ocean provokes nakedness within this place, destroyer to all that was verdant, yet an act of kindness? To ready life for spring to live once again.
through the morning mist
air is turning icy blue
the tide rushes in
© Harry J Horsman 2019
Categories:
initiates, winter,
Form:
Haibun
Tattle cries are just as loud as battle cries,
but the difference is
tears from mannequins dry on untouchable skin.
You may have a purpose, but your attempt at a movement
is motionless because your passion
is a carefully constructed image
replicated in a false ideology
that manifests into something specific
obtaining a manual manipulation.
A self servant visibility is indicative
of an egocentric personality and everything insinuated
to be perceptually believed as sacred
usually doesn't leave further than the tapping of your fingers.
You proselytize by regurgitating the ways
of a preferred deity and establish yourself
by turning your mirror to reflect the angle
of how you want to be seen and adjust your thoughts
for a higher seat in your vanity
in order to possess everything in your hypocrisy.
The feedback you get initiates a sedimentary mask
you proudly wear and give a name to because
as a statuesque representative in an upscale consumption
of physical and mindful gluttony,
it is the exemplary rock to inscribe your identity.
You disguise it as spirituality, enlightenment, or awareness
labeling it as politics, religion, parenting, racism,
abortion, extortion, activism, or sexism.
It does not, in anyway, alleviate
the struggling strong minded from with holding their weeps
on garments bled by friends in unsung tongues and private sin,
in time well spent where the secrets
of the heart are kept for keeps rather than exposed and disposed of
in a widespread generic documentary
for the world to see the effects of their warfare.
Where words of vulnerability and exposed nerves
are perceived as nothing but memes and black sheep
trying to be shepherds making lists of things
to better humanity in articles utilized by a machine.
As if the top ten life hacks will take neglcted children
out of the slums of a poor shack
and stop the hateful attacks on those who need welfare.
The bandaging by labeling and over medicating
will not eradicate the urgent need for eye to eye,
flesh to flesh, heart to heart
laughing, kind, grateful, melting of this
plastic society.
Categories:
initiates, fear, patriotic, planet, power,
Form:
Free verse
Next to my son's anger
plate tectonics are nothing
to me. His unhappiness
was caused by me.
His purpose and mine
is to catch photons and
store them in our bones.
Time measures change
which continues without self-doubt.
There is no self there.
Therefore, why care about
my son's anger
or my guilt?
Is it possible as Deutsch
suggests that the changes
a self-aware organism can
applying the scientific method
instantiate are innumerable
compared to those of the sun
or any big bang?
Therefore, one must care
about the harm you've done
or the good you'd do.
As Stevens proved
the essential activity's
to imagine the world
then test it against the breeze.
What good is philosophy
without a confession
I sometimes hit
whenever angry
and can kill given
opportunity and permission.
My knowledge of enduring
seeds and periodic
elements is limited
by my impatience.
If I could stop
circle with a dot
breathing
perhaps then I would
understand myself. But
what is there to know about the self?
Long ago, according to Borges,
Shakespeare imposed
a self-imposed silence
on himself. He knew
what, that perfect acts,
accurate and factual,
actually requiring
microscopes and telescopes
for growing small and going far
take you to the very space a
gentle breeze and ridiculous bird
occupy at the end of the mind
at the end of your life.
"Death initiates a complex process by which the human body gradually
reverts to dust
but minerals may fill the cracks and voids, bonding the hydroxyapatite
and allowing the bones to join . . ."
in the happy tectonics
of the earth's plates.
Categories:
initiates, anger, care, earth, philosophy,
Form:
Free verse
I was taken from this life
in the black night, blindfolded
to be clubbed to death
so that I
might be born again
in spirit song, dance and name
given by my great ancestor
who, ten thousand years ago or more,
crossed the Bering land bridge from
Siberia to Cowichan and the Salish Sea
warm land of the raven,
the black bear and the salmon.
I have suffered
four hundred years
of dislocation of the soul
in this barren culture, nameless
but for “primitive squaw.”
I have lost
Tamanawas, the sacred ritual dance
the Potlatch feast of giving and
my children and my language.
I will endure
four days and nights
confined and cold and hungry
while all around the rhythmic pulse
of elders’ drumming, chanting
guides me back in time and space
to voices still resounding
stories of a dancing flame
light upon the earth
And I will rise in cedar forests
and walk the clamshell middens
feel our language on my skin
and see with startled eyes new life
the Soulfire I’ve been given.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
This was for the Shaman's Way contest but I think I missed it.
Cowichan --used to be pronounced coWEEchan now it's usually said like, Cow i chan.
The Canadian government outlawed many Coast Salish practices until the 1960's--the Spirit Quest, Potlatch feast and
Tamanwas dance among them. Children were placed in residential schools, away from their families, and were forbidden
to speak their mother tongue. More recently, the spirit quest ritual has been revived as (loosely) described in the
poem. However, it is also now used as a form of "intervention" to help address an array of problems frequently
attributed to colonization (e.g., drug and alcohol misuse). So, where in the past, young people would go off into the
forest voluntarily, it is now often the case, (at least in Cowichan) that young people are taken from their beds in the
night. Initiates are first symbolically "clubbed to death" then "reborn" after multiple days of ritual practices.
Categories:
initiates, history, native american, dance,
Form:
Free verse