Best Interiors Poems
Darkness descends,
And the destination lies far behind
God! Let the fire that burns in you eternal ,
Which is the only true fire,
Light up my eyes to perceive the right from the wrong,
The genuine from the sham.
I ask Thee, blaze my spirit with your fire
So that I get the prudence to escape the snares
Laid by wolves in lambs' clothing.
I ask Thee, the courage to dissent,
When forced to act out against my will.
The glitter of gold or the sceptre of power
Let them not dissuade me from my resolve.
I ask Thee, to grant me the fire,
So that I get the power to resist,
Justice denied, rights violated,
The weak exploited, the poor smothered,
The innocent accused and the guilty acquitted.
I await the true fire to ignite my whole being,
As the darkness of gloom envelops my spirit
Where fear like worms eat into my core.
I await the eternal fire to break into me,
To see myself bare and naked!
My cavernous interiors hide designs - malign.
How I put on appearances to suit my designs!
As I burn in the fires of worldly passions
Oh Lord, send the flames of your fire,
And with their tongues, swallow the darkness within.
March.6.2023
~ Placed Fifth
What Fire is Eternal Poetry Contest
Sponsor- Joe Maverick
Back then,
backyards were big enough
to nurture a growing soul
and provide a space
for the earth to play out
its seasons in full rehearsal.
There were wide tracks
of grass, trees to climb,
old sheds to rummage
with their interiors full of tools
and bric-a-brac
webbed in history.
There was food - ripe tomatoes
and corn from a vegetable patch,
grapes swelling
under a cool canopy of vines,
soft skins bursting
their dark sweetness
inside expectant mouths,
almonds, apricots and the luscious
dribble of a warm peach
down sticky cheeks.
Some had roaming chickens
with their bounty of eggs.
Backyards were blotting paper
for a child's hurt, a hiding place
to get away, a theater
for projecting the phantasies
of a sheriff or a princess
high in a golden tower.
And in summer, a sprinkler
casting a gauntlet of cold spray
for tiny feet to challenge.
Then it all ends
when backyards become
too small and more exotic places
call a restless soul to leave
its Eden and break the spell
of its beginning.
Winter has cast its strangling hold inside and outside.
The joys I have known are gone.
Cold winds blow bleak and harsh.
The flowers in my garden have wilted and withered.
All things sweet have passed and flown away.
Flakes of snow, layer on layer, lie piled within,
And harden as rocks with worms of fear inching their way,
To eat away all the delicate buds of hope.
Spring, Oh! Spring grace me with your regal smile,
Brightening my sky with constellations of stars.
Crash down the walls that segregate, leaving me a fugitive,
And pour love's balm into my bruised soul.
Possess me as an unseen benevolent spirit,
Thawing the frozen interiors with your warm sunshine!
*Hot & Cold*
“The Professional.”
only in my eyes
supports
the temperature.
Mercury, rising above:
Boiling point of no return,
Injection,
Rejection,
like heartfelt tears
on the surface,
pouring of dryness
from the deep
complete.
Bare
Plot
Both
Dot
Cold
not good enough.
You stay,
Numbness against the impression
of adoration
wallows off
Venus, the frigged interiors of:
Freezing below zero,
from my form,
Swallow knots
intent look
nowhere to be found -
in the zeniths
radiation.
Core
Depth
Beauty
Death
Hot
I grasp it all.
The secret of you
I hunger!
Cannot have,
nowhere to be found-
no, lease.
Stay…
A kiss so endlessly,
I need!
I want!
endurance
reassurance
your vibes
confused,
not fixed
your placid
hallucination
during
muddy waters.
And still I may be smitten: -)
By;pd
I had seen - her calm, cool, composed - like a soft soothing breeze,
Though she could turn tempest or tornado or weakly wheeze;
Like a formless cherub in an endless garden of love,
She covered the earth while racing on cloud-Morgan above…!
Lovely you are! I said to her, Love's living conqueror!
Aren't you, yet, noisy nomad, gypsy, or mere wanderer?
I am vagrant sure, she said, and a tireless traveler,
I have jailed you, yet, in my sachet, like a prisoner…!
It was when I moved much away from the maddening crowd,
And when pondered over her bewildering words aloud;
Enlightenment dawned in me like the wisdom of Buddha,
Many great truths got revealed slowly like Brahma Chakra...!
True as very truth is my brief existence in the breath,
Who on this earth exists, devoid of her, from birth to death?
She murmurs, whispers, commands, demands, like Divine Spirit,
She creates! Destroys! Takes to zeniths! Grants highest merit…!
Soft, serene like nectar secreting in a rose flower,
She sleeps in; grows glows like a flower on a green bower;
Consciously conscious! Unconsciously unconscious! Solace!
Plows through the interiors, like Yacht through water, flawless…!
Shifting my state of mind, working like a leaven within,
Sleep, wake - like my mother - in feasting and fasting she's in;
She is the beginning! End! Center! Whole! Totality!
She is the starting and ends of the whole humanity…!
What an engulfing like a fiery inferno and smoke,
What an empowering and overpowering soul-stroke!
What a change, like unique bloom! Great is the life-giving breath!
What Calm! Peace! Tranquility! Bliss! Awesomely saving meth…!
With her, no stress! No strain! No phobia! No mania!
Her free-blow within free from frightening insomnia;
Abandoned to her eternally evolving Spirit,
Body and soul reach zenith beyond the mundane limit…!
Growing high, I gladly come to the realization,
That I'm part of the classic universal cognition;
Wherein my inner unity freely fondly extends,
And to the external eternal harmony, it tends...!
Knowingly? Unknowingly? Willingly? Unwillingly?
Breath has adopted me - calmly, cutely, and cautiously!
Has made me a flute, lute, melodious rhythmic consort,
I play on! I am played on! Till I reach restful retreat…!!!
16 September 2021
Line of inquiry:
“Yes, I affirm, I have seen God
But He appeared and then disappeared
This knowing that transcends mind, left me awed
But until what’s imbibed is assimilated, by fears I’m seared”
Once I felt the power of God
It seeped into me like lightning,
Illumining the track it traversed
It settled somewhere down,
Within the vibrations of light and sound.
In my heart a delectable music swelled.
My life was deluged with song.
His guiding light led me through devious paths.
When was it that I lost connection with that power?
It happened gradually without my knowing
In course of time, it got veiled and eclipsed,
By the darkness of worldly desires.
I was caught in life’s swift current.
Wishing to stay afloat, l drifted,
Into the midst of peripheral comforts,
Like one chasing the deceiving mirage of the desert
My ego bloated like a balloon
I walked on stilts that I forgot the feel of my feet
I felt the stream of love narrowing into a trickle
And then drying out completely.
I was busy making money
In my mad rush after power and pelf,
I threw my values to the wind
Soon storms began raging into my life.
I was befriending gnawing anxieties and strangulating fears.
My dreams shattered like glassware
My world lost its rhythm and I lost my calm.
Life seemed to go on, leaving me behind
Never more I could endure the desolation
That hovered over my me like a dark shroud
Like a mother's despondency at the loss of her child,
An emptiness enveloped my spirit and being.
I knew it was not too late,
To recover all that I lost.
I decided to trace my steps backward,
And travel in reverse gear.
In all earnestness, I turned my downcast eyes heavenward
Soon I started breathing with greater ease
I began getting healed in love’s gentleness
Binding me to God through an unshakable bond
Like sunlight arching through the dark
Once more He came into my life to light my interiors
Now he resides within me, not at the periphery as earlier,
But deep down as a living power, changeless and timeless!
Nuancing Andrew Cohen
"If we are interested in learning how to engage with consciousness
at higher and higher levels,
to consciously facilitate its evolution within us
and between us,
we need to look more closely
at the extraordinary phenomenon of [nondual co-arising] emergence
in matter,
in biological life,
[in economic life,
and in political systems,]
and most importantly,
at the level of [Anthro-mind/Earth-body] consciousness.
We need to cultivate our capacity to visualize
and to emotionally connect
with what it would mean
for [positive] emergence to occur
within our own interiors [mind/body landscapes,
co-dominant dipolar Left-Right bicameral Yang-Yin balance],
within our subjective
and intersubjective
[peak-crown-head therapeutic
and valley-root-sensory/sexual body]
experience."
We LeftHemisphere hear
and eco-politically translate
in orthodox paradigms
of prior enculturation
to speak
and mind-0 zone
body-1/0 co-empathically transpose
co-engaging win/win
bipartisan reformation.
They suggested that I was just a toddler moving fast.
As they wine and dined, I heard all of them say
She will be sent to the best schools.
I was only three.
The living room was elegant.
Expensive furniture and beautiful walls of wallpaper with silk drapes were the interiors design.
When the sun shined through the windows, the splendor was defined.
I love to just see the flowers bloom free - so divine.
My mind ponders on those days.
Walking to school was always enjoyed
Until one rare occasion where I was chased by German shepherds.
I was eight years of age walking the tracks.
Do you believe I am alive today?
Natural life can be whimsical.
It provides you the acumen of a scholar.
In that room was diversity in the races, there were colors that delineated tomorrow.
There were struggles to never be departed.
Impulse urges notion prophecy foresaw.
The chandelier chimes when the wind blows.
__________________________________________________|
Penned April 05. 2015!
Under mountains of coal and ash
two, cold, porcelain figurines withstand
the years, as they grind away slowly
their lines and composition turning
to dust.
I was the culprit, tearing down the
house you built, now a stranger to the
pillars of your sunlight laughter
Embarrassed I bow with only a huge
gap I created...lifeless with no
interiors… only regret.
I knew you when there was only a small
one bedroom apartment…no monuments
to your name…when you were nervous
and alone. I loved you with my blinded
heart, at risk with too many intimate scars…
and now with memories and
no words ever spoken.
© Julia Heckman 2011
“When all you thought was true, isn’t ...”
When all you thought
was true,
isn’t
an interesting
conversation
sashays in
opening
channels
has begun
quite alien
epistemological
holy smoking light ray
stun gun
(LadyLabyrinth / 2022)
“Narayan”/The Prodigy
https://youtu.be/bzVjZu4fl4o
“UFOs, Religion & Technology”/UAP Society
https://youtu.be/FoWKTjSUx3s
Kyiv Astronomers capture “UAPs everywhere” using meteor-tracking software
https://youtu.be/E2ZSlLH0TzE
“The nitrogen in our DNA,
the calcium in our teeth,
the iron in our blood,
the carbon in our apple pies
were made in the interiors
of collapsing stars.
We are made of starstuff.”
Carl Sagan, Cosmos
“Science is not only compatible with spirituality; it is a profound source of spirituality.”
Carl Sagan, The Demon-Haunted World: Science as a Candle in the Dark
“You're an interesting species.
An interesting mix.
You're capable of such beautiful dreams,
and such horrible nightmares.
You feel so lost, so cut off, so alone,
only you're not.
See, in all our searching,
the only thing we've found
that makes the emptiness bearable,
is each other.”
Carl Sagan, Contact
Chris Lehto Channel / ex-F16 Fighter Pilot, American
https://www.youtube.com/c/ChrisLehtoF16/videos
UAP Society Channel
https://www.youtube.com/channel/UClS2K-Pxom6vuURf4t_42mw
Devouring, destroying, decaying. For your eyes only.
Inside, interiors, innermost. Then reflects on the outside.
Eaten, eager, eroding. Tap it, let it pour.
Disdain, disease, departure. 'Twas been driving you.
...reconciliation, with what is left.
...acceptance, what it offers.
...accord, to what you have become.
Peace, in the soft embrace of oblivion brought through demise.
Hotel terraces art nouveau ironwork and interiors
Mother of pearl cufflinks painters actors musicians
Scooters racing around an antiquity filled Italian city
Mediterranean charm "How do you like your breakky?"
Feeling faint she lay on the comfortable chintz couch
And began to doze off to sleep...two cherubs red hair
Sea-green eyes turned up frecked nose sniffed air
Clove cigarettes perfume of sandalwood musk rose
Fresh strawberries slithered onto his awaiting lap
Beautifully chiselled shaven jawline elegantly poised
Handsome blue eyes dazzled like secret treasures
Gathering odd bits and scattered pieces
I lay on silken sheets of pristine white,
a soft, lavender scent, aired, releases ...
daily sorrows and fears of painful night.
Rising on an astral cord, I hover
all smiling at my earthly nascent self,
wandering, wondering, fractals a glow
we light beings uncover
a unifying geometry ourselves.
Do come, come and join our playful tableau.
Dark interiors pale, as outside I rise
peeking but briefly within where I lay
and I nod to self, then up to the sky
with spirit animals along to play.
The wolves howl with joy, the owls soar high
we stitch herringbone patterns gray on blue
as we loft like birds above forest tall
giving bedside good byes.
High above the earth, we have quite a view
as with rainbows of lights we're enthralled.
From space earth's sphere seems an implausible dream
continents and oceans blue, brown and white
as refreshed we gleam, streaming home on beams
fired solar flares of brilliant delight.
Down, down, we go to just outside the pane
and giggling, I peek through the window shade
myself wound in, on umbilical thin,
whole without a complaint.
Four guardians, I hug and thank for their aide
and slip beneath the silk sheets, all tucked in.
Sweet memories haunt me, roaming into the thoughts of my past
I scan through my life , from first to last.
Through the days of struggle, my mom held my hand
Till I grew up and on my feet could stand.
As I traveled through the interiors of the land
Through the forests and plains and fiery sand.
The sun that rose from the east looked beautiful red
But the plight of women was not as said.
Though Sania & Aishwarya have won international acclaim
We still don’t treat the girls and boys as same.
Why then should there be female foeticide
With the parents wanting to see a boy on their side.
It’s the 21st century lets not forget
Times are moving at the sped of jet.
In the name of religion and society our minds are stuck
Ethics , norms , beliefs , we have gone into the muck.
Mother, sister,wife ,daughter are a part of our life
Love,compassion,sacrifice,they have been with us through strife.
Women,rise, we are with you
There is light at the end and a morning of dew.
We will all stand and salute the girl child
For the hand that rocks the cradle, rules the world.
Form:
On the anvil that’s the dorp
The noon-day sun beats down.
So between twelve and two
Life in the place is suspended.
Doors to the stores are ‘toe’
And in their dusty windows cheap
Mannequins sleep with open eyes.
The air is still and heavy.
So in the sparse foliage
Of small pepper trees
Feathered creatures perch,
With beaks agape,
And wings spread wide,
Trying to beat the heat.
At the door to the bar
Of the ‘Royal’ Hotel,
In a sliver of shade,
A mastiff lies panting.
Inside the trade is slow.
Manne on barstools
Nurse brandy-and-coke.
House windows are closed.
In the darkened interiors,
Hidden from sight by
Slatted wooden shutters,
People flop on chairs,
Avoid all movement, in
Attempts to beat the heat.
At two a slight sputter of life.
It is ‘government’ employees
Returning to work.
The magistrate and two clerks
Dawdle back to the court.
The post-master and staff
Re-enter the GPO.
It’s still quiet at the ‘Royal’ Hotel.
With no shoppers the doors
Of the stores remain closed.
Under the shade of pepper trees,
Outside the shuttered Co-op,
And alongside the ‘Prokureur’s,
A bakkie and tractor are parked.
The ‘garage’ is deserted
Save for its two Caltex pumps.
From all sun-baked surfaces.
Hot, dry, and dusty air rises.
So every now and then
The wind-pump in my yard
Creaks as it turns a little.
In school classrooms
Pupils slump on desks.
Teachers no longer teach;
“Lees jul voorgeskrewe boek.”
Two-thirty! At last!
The school-day’s over
And also the worst of the heat.
Now en masse
Pupils scurry out,
Head for home, then
After something to eat
It’s back for athletics
On a grass-free track, or
Tennis on concrete courts.
Eventually the glowering sun
Sends streaks of colour
Across the western sky
As it slowly dips out of sight.
Then when twilight is over
The moon is bright and bathes
The town in silvery hues.
By nine o’clock
It’s cool and still
Save for the flutter of moths
Around the outside lights.
And I lie on a bed
Outside on the stoep
With my dog at my feet.