Best Inwards Poems
Skulking between the thinning clumps
Of tattered sedge
A balding coot despondently calls,
Scratching Blackbirds scutter deeply
Into a Hawthorn hedge;
Whilst, creeping stealthily,
Gathering darkness onwardly crawls.
The blackened Moorhen washes the clinging
Soot from his feathered form,
Rising above the mirrored pond in awkward
flight.
Gathering clouds mumble softly of an
Impending storm,
When, silently menacing, inwards marches
The approaching night.
Listening intently, between murmurs upon
A breeze,
I check my step and briefly pause -
To catch a low sigh whispered from among
The sullen trees...
A last desperate plead of their lost cause.
For now billowing cumulonimbus sags
And begs to stall,
As, slowly homeward bound, I gather
About me to hastily make;
Where, circling high in rushing element,
The ragged Buzzard begins to fall...
Upon Heavens gathered Furies -
That so conspire to thunderously break!
the sea lures me
as waves run
one after another
splashes over the silvery sand
and moving shingles
slow tide flows inwards
holding me
in its spell
crabs are carried
towards the deep salty sea
I stand mesmerised
listening
to its melodious thrill.
seagulls invite me
I just jump into the sea.
Placed 8
I don't look at stars anymore.
As a boy I would sneak out into the night
to hear the horses and barn mice
chewing over their hurts and simple hopes.
I could smell the waking dreams
of dogs and cats.
a nocturnal alchemy I considered
to be an extension of my integral soul.
I did not look upwards
I looked inwards and saw where I was
in that sensory cauldron, the broth of being.
One clear and cold night,
I looked up and knew that I was far away,
far away from this farmed backwater,
far from these backwoods,
the barn, the flagstone kitchen, my mother,
my father, myself.
The stars, those blazing guardians
of eternal silence, held me
enthralled to a distance I could not imagine.
I was only this tenuous stem of blood,
left here to sway on the edge of an horizonless night,
a vastness that held my breath and heartbeat
in the limbo of its indifferent favor.
That night, the stars spoke to me
in the language of the dead.
For a moment, the far away echoed close,
while I, like a moth, felt pinned to the void.
I heard the starlight sing and if that song had words
it would have said:
We harvest your dreams,
set fire to them, use there ash
and your ashes to come, for fuel.
Only we exist among the doomed.
Only the stars.
The Dilettante Diaries: “Freshwater”
This is how it begins
Opposite side of the chequered board
Black and White, a game to win
The 50 Move Rule flirts consequences
of a burning mind
Through windows
Freshwater
is now lapping at his shores
She calls his bluff
Menu: Sardinian
he’s a soft Diamond in the Rough
Two travellers -
A Writer and another Writer
change course,
Two travellers on a journey
turn around, tack inwards towards the other
change the plot, rhyme and verse
Freshwater
The 50 Move Rule flirts consequences
of a burning mind
Opposite side of the chequerboard
This is how it begins
Black and White, a game to win
No Deer in the Cross Lights
She smiles
He grins
Freshwater
Lunch and a swim
(Lovejoy-Burton/September, 2018)
"Slow Air", Still Corners
https://youtu.be/h10-Q4vJGVY
1. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fifty-move_rule
2. Pilu, Freshwater
Tonight
in the Heavens sky
A journey inwards
Begins unravelling out
Golden moondogs kiss
Sweetheart sparkles
Drawing one circle
ring around a rose
Warmly embracing silk feelings
A slim
milky lunar smiling vision
Sharing darkness with stars wishes fly
Frogs sing
a croaking choir
capturing one lullaby
In the stillness of night
Thoughts alone
They drift away
on a breathless air
As your baptised in the heart
Bathing
in the living water
of beauty
Which flows from deep inside
Salt
you will
always remain
undying beautiful
I sit on my couch on the terrace watching the dawn.
The struggling sun is still hugging the eastern mountains.
It shines with a shy orange hue casting no shadows.
A sweet breath blows inwards from over the placid lake.
Upon the roof, I hear the low murmur of wild doves.
Spring is not so far, may it arrive quickly enough.
I look down on my lawn, alas the white crocus spent,
It matters not since fragrant flowers will now flourish.
Wild plants can already be seen, their buds opening,
Cyprus sedge, Winterberry holly amongst others
Will provide the water's edge with grandiose landscape.
A skein of geese in usual formation flew fast enough,
No doubt eager to find a place for their mating spree.
And as the sun begins it upwards trajectory,
I languish so pleasantly in the countryside's peace,
Wait with enthusiasm, as my wife prepares breakfast,
Inhale the fine aroma of fresh roasted dark coffee.
"The Internal Garden"
Inwards ever inwards
overgrown with jungle
my weeds bloom
eventually into
the most exotic flowers
colours exquisite
vibrant and unknown
breaking the external barriers
within the one called home
their perfume singing
and sending gifts
whisper soft now
tickling
all venomous and
benevolent muses
escaping Amygdala
sliding through Alcatraz
with diamond dogs and snakes
silver crystal glistening grass
softly gorgeous green and gecko like
moving emeralds
velvet eyes 'neath
dark and dusky fringes
piercing light waves
shining changing shapes
and shades
I am fresh
for taking red apples
ripe and delicious
juicy, a taste for hot living
twin blue lakes as mirrors
stripped naked now jades
breaching new skin
for moving limbs
and skinny dipping
(LadyLabyrinth / 2020)
I looked at the horrible faces,
agnostic,
I look at the beautiful faces,
pristine,
I looked for a summer in the midst of winter,
and for repose in a gruelling duel with death and oblivion.
I looked for salvation,
looked outside the door for breath and bread.
I looked towards the sun,
and inwards,
and moved upwards and moved closer to the stars,
within the cyclone of your scars,
within the summer of your love.
I looked before overlooking anything,
and beyond hope,
and before tomorrow and happy as I was
I kissed life on the chicks and sat
next to a pumpkin
and read limericks.
I looked within your eyes and tried to find out if they were true,
and since they were true I looked further into your heart,
and without further I do I said can we be one?
I sat under the bodhi tree and said can I be a bodhisattva,
and I was open to love and open to desire,
and open to freedom of movement
and the amorous rain fell on my toes and it felt so free.
I looked into your eyes and within your heart and saw love,
and saw possibility and discovery and laughter.
For I had tasted your love so much,
and tasted your dreams in my sleep.
I looked within you, within me, and tried to find your peace,
our peace.
From near and far, I hear the bells
their clear tones ring an ancient hymn
from long ago, ‘oft sung by men
in pure white robes, at belfry’s end.
I hadn’t heard the bells for years
for I had wandered far from home
their simple notes from long ago
were soon forgot, my soul grew cold.
To hear these joyous bells again
resonates within my heart
with no avoidance on my part
and from them I will not depart.
A rising reverence overtakes
my weariness, for in their sounds
the bells reach inwards, all around
restoring faith, where none was found.
With plaintive chimes, the tolling bells
entreat me to believe and come
before His throne and praise the One
who bought me with His precious Son.
Written 2023
the human entity that feels
employs body as a springboard
in bondage to gender and tendencies
looking outwards then reviewing inwards
the pulse of duality from fulcrum of oneness
celebrating even delusion made possible by form
thus both captive and free
03-December-2022
Not a true Choka...but uses a 5,7,7,5,7,7 format
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Chill, steaming vapour;
Silence over pale water;
Faded, thin wisps of ribboned
Pink
Above the east gate;
I dip oars...and silence
Breaks.
Trace of flame in lilac sky.
Raise, lean, dip and pull;
Sculling forward little
Twirls
Swirl away from dripping
Blades;
Uplifted soul -- soaring!
Remembering how, when young...
Each new day would bring
New hope.
Extends the shoreline --
Sweeping inwards at the
Point;
Green bulrushes in the bay;
A bittern booming:-
Rising up like slow thunder
Drifting out of jade mountains.
My busied childhood,
Hidden pate not yet shaven;
Shrimping with a fine mesh
Net;
Loud, boyish laughter;
Brimming jars crammed with
Sunbeams --
The golden, darting minnows.
Horizon widens,
Shadow retreats from low
Hills;
Gathering orb comforts me;
Selfsame warm comfort
When held by sleepy women
In cold grey of early dawn.
The vaguest murmur,
Faint as drowsy breathe,
Of the soundings of dim chimes...
A call to prayer?
Hands hard-clenched on the
Staid oars;
Restrained by yesteryear.
Time folds inwards,
like paper cranes in cosmic flight.
Time folds inwards—
a twist of clocks in glass-bound wards,
its orbit skewed by quantum might.
We dream in loops by neon light—
Time folds inwards.
You stir your latte slowly
an old habit of yours
a delicate studied frown.
I wonder when your mannerisms
became perfectly packaged
fashion statements?
When did you turn a camera
inwards into your scripted life?
Just when did you begin
to act-out this caricature?
As you turn your spoon,
as you gather together
your carefully prepared replies,
my interest in you
flat-lines.
Written: December 04, 2023
_________________________________________
Desensitizing me—destroying my delusion.
Snapping sight of the kaleidoscopic illusion.
Delving into eternity of utopian ecstasy
Shimmering in an ethereal golden fantasy
Drifting inwards—yielding inner space.
Flamboyant with a nectarous embrace
Playing an intricate oboe of tenderness.
Drumming along to the tune of gentleness
Invigorating my soul—infusing my barren cup
Embraced me wholeheartedly the wassail up.
Sitting on grass, smelling delicious lavender.
Gulped divine ambrosia, wild or scavenger
Syncing wires up to my celestial essence
A haven where my bosom can quiescence
A tranquil haven where my spirit can soar.
A tranquil haven that my heart can't deplore.
A sanctuary where my soul can find peace.
Somewhere, my soul may relax and release.
Nothing can be concealed in my quiet spirit.
The whole day, one can both sense and hear it.
Heady sounds that make one curl inwards like a snail within its shell
Achy grating noises like a fingernail scratching across a chalk board
Every velvet ear deserves sounds of the ocean and water falls
Retire to your room, let the music ooze and fill your stratosphere
I for one never enjoyed the cacophony of a thunderous world at large
Naked ears can be trained to listen to so many Nature resounding peals. So,
Give thanks for your ears and all that they do, take care of them.