Best Mystic Poems
there is a bright side
to the dark
let your I adjust
MagiCicada13
I've sailed across many mystic seas
while hazy moonlight washed over me.
I watched glittering stars shine till dawn,
then closed wearied eyes and stifled a yawn.
By shadowed lantern light I have written verses
about flying fish and Charybdis' guzzling curses;
of humpback whales that breach crested waves
then plunge the ocean's depth to watery graves
My mended sails still flutter in whistling winds,
and as sunset glows on a horizon of sequins,
upon the vastness of the seas, I will ere remain.
A simpler life there, I am sure to ascertain
I almost didn’t make it here.
Not tonight.
Not to this day.
Not to this moment.
Because some days
breathing feels like begging,
and my ribs feel too fragile to hold up the weight of me.
And I don’t tell anyone.
I smile,
In the way glass smiles right before it shatters.
I laugh,
the way a mask laughs when no one’s behind it.
And I pray nobody hears the sound of me cracking.
And then
one day
a hand.
Not a fist.
Not a finger pointing out everything broken in me.
Not a grip trying to drag me where I wasn’t ready to go.
Just a hand.
Gentle.
Steady.
Human.
It touched my shoulder like it wasn’t dangerous to love me.
It reached for mine like I was worth reaching for.
And in that moment
every screaming voice in my head
got quiet.
Do you understand?
That’s what saved me.
Not thunder.
Not fire.
Not some miracle in the sky.
A gentle hand.
A reminder that I wasn’t too heavy,
that I wasn’t too late,
that I wasn’t invisible.
And I learned something that day
gentleness is not weakness.
It’s war.
It’s rebellion.
It’s armor that doesn’t look like armor,
but still keeps you alive.
So now
if I can be that hand for someone else,
if I can steady a shoulder,
hold a palm,
stop a fall
I will.
Because I am still here.
Because somebody, once,
offered me a gentle hand.
And that…
that was enough.
Care not I for the day at noon,
air filled with the humidity of June,
Where is my full mystic moon,
share your golden radiance with me soon,
Bear witness to a lonely cricket's tune,
there you shine on every land, lake and dune.
Will the man in the moon smile bright?,
hill, tree and meadow are bathed in night,
Kill and extinguish the cloudy starlight,
sill of my window glowing luminous white,
Still is my heart as I see a glorious sight,
fills the sky as it reaches it's height.
Why wait there and make me weep?,
shy and slowly over the mountain top creep,
I thought that you were fast asleep,
my wandering gaze I shall forever keep,
Thy orange coloring is rich and deep,
by the time of the fall harvest reap.
It is time to play freely and escape,
visit me shrouded with a sheer silver drape,
Quit hiding and rise in a crescent shape,
sit above every blue snow, lagoon and cape,
Lit orbs eclipse, hued like a purple grape,
permit my wish and my mouth shall gape.
Make the night as bright as day,
lake waves seem to shimmer a silver-gray,
Break through the horizon, if you may,
opaque pearl that evokes a wolves' bay,
Wake early and until dawn, stay,
take all of my melancholy feelings away.
You mystify me as you wax and wane,
knew this waiting would drive me insane,
Do illuminate, please do not refrain,
too many evenings have ended in rain,
New moons alight every street, road and lane,
blue light now gleaming in my window pane.
Beneath soft stars and moonlight rays,
I watch her dance without a care.
Her feet enchant in mystic ways,
as gusts entwine through her gold hair.
I watch her dance without a care.
Her passion lights up the night skies.
A blaze ignites within her eyes.
Her feet enchant in mystic ways.
With swirls and twirls she casts her spell.
In rhythms where angel spirits dwell.
As gusts entwine through her gold hair,
her shadow fades into the dark.
In my soul her light leaves its mark.
UNSEEN THREAD
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
it is the quiet hand that steadies
the stranger’s trembling cup of tea,
the pause before the sharp reply
that lets the wounded silence breathe.
not grand, this thread that binds us close—
a choice to hold what others drop.
Mystic Tinklings
Mystic tinklings
Ancient echoes from the past
Fleeting inklings
Glimmer just beyond your grasp
Phantom footfalls
When you know that you’re alone
Echoed choircalls
Of a long forgotten song
Shadows slipway
From the corners of your eye
Darkened hallways
Hints of time passed by
Brief reflections
Of things you did not see
Vast collections
Of the things that used to be
While rambling like a vagabond in a seraphic poetic submersion, in a remote region, witnessed the most captivated sight ever,
a sleeping valley rippled in wild blooms, as sparkling in mystical celestial beam, in the mesas of the clouds, the Dzukou Valley,
a remote dale at the border of Nagaland and Manipur,
in the untrodden tableland of India's Northeast!
The picturesque landscape was ringing with the
once in a lifetime scene of emerald shades of hillocks
paving the way for azure mountaintops,
luminous flowers waving in the winds amongst the tall grasses!
The vale was tweeting and twirling amidst the virgin vegetations enriched with the spectacular sights of verdant forests,
exquisite flora and fauna,
serpentine streams, myriads of panoramic pink
and white wild blooms that dot
the vast caldera of the valley and its' verdant meadows,
alongside the meandering rivers of Dzukou and Japfu,
appeared as the absolute paragon of serenity and tranquility!
Surrounded by the whispering platonic hills,
with numerous colorful flying creatures,
the valley seemed as smuggled over
the dewdrops' fragrant feral fruits,
Oak and Rhododendron forests are a feast to the eyes!
Half way up and any signs of tracks disappear,
and one is just left with wheezing enigmatic bamboo thickets!
Botanists' delight, trackers' paradise, seraph's psyche,
rovers' riddle, is reclining placidly ,
the untrodden earth's lulling lullaby,
in the abode of the divine Lily's
anomalous nature's absolute pamphlet,
a rich biodiversity hotspots
of endemic species, the Dzoku Valley;
an uninhabited unsullied phosphorus valley
Note:
The Dzüko Valley is located at the borders of the states of Nagaland and Manipur in Northeast India. The valley is known for its extremely rich biodiversity, seasonal flowers and flora & fauna. It is situated at an altitude of 2452 m above sea level.
© Silpika Kalita
Tired needing to sleep,
Relaxing in the comfort of my protector.
Unusual as it seems, I was
Safe in the knowledge....the
Tiger was my friend.
Indicating to others the need of trust.
No good pretending anymore....my
Guardian is my best stuffed toy.
Contest,: mystic rose - image me a poem
I used image 3
Penned 17 October 2017
In many ways, you are immense,
Prevailing in your purpose,
Radiating all shades of Love’s perseverance
As mysteries unfurl
You are restful,
Peaceful, and undulating with a deep desire to teach
Heal, and inspire
You arouse the senses with your fragrances,
The spirits of old heeding along the waysides
The quiet, silent souls nodding in affirmation
“Resilient, meek, and elegant is she,
Giving and gallant in Love’s guiding wing!”
The mighty Lord smiles in agreement,
His beam lighting every shaded flower
For in truth, every precious petal of hers
Draws these hearts nearer
To the root of her works
To the splendor of her unique magic,
Towards Love and Grace
-this was inspired by Mystic Rose’s recent series regarding Love-
Some ancient wisdom
Doth behold; a parabolic
To unfold. Mathematics to
Delight ; resemble crescent
Moon at night! The alchemy
In this I see; a medieval
Fantasy . Behold the dragons
Tooth and claw; from it,
Power I will draw. Mystic
Names are writ in clay; and
Swept away before the
Day. Squalid squawks that
Screech the sky; bring chills
Into the heart that lies.
Fingers bony, nails that
Split; do stir the cauldron
With some spit. “Hail my
Demon, come to me”; if
You indulge my fancy free!
Thus I challenge, this bleak
World; what’s real I order
Inward curl. Tumble down
And thus reform; a universe
“Reductio ad Absurdum “
Is reborn!
Hashish smoke trails her
along a dusky corridor
Aka the hall of fires
where mirage chimeras unleash
Encumbered with hands splayed
her crystal ball lumens
wires ghostly apparitions
mnemonic attachments
What mystery ensues
a phantasmagoria
of horror nudging
the demonic
Sitters drenched
in profuse sweat
fainting one by one
Alas unconscious
their fate met?
Coroners couldn’t ‘ve clarified
Described as an arctic chill
bolting across the sector
through each limp body
claiming mortality
As icy temps rise
Hypothermia responsible!
for the fatality, for their demise
Latter days professing onto
recordings of a gathering that took place
confessing that a séance
performed by a mysterious woman
in a trance—was the case.
The
Moon is waxing
First quarter crescent
The beckoning begins
Nodding, gurgling
Opening realms unseen
to the naked eye
Madame
Mystic, psychic,
a beguiling storyteller
and Medium
Down in a cellar, along with a Ouija
volumes of her writings discovered
delving into société espirita
The Goldilocks of the occults
Esoteric subjects,
a burgeoning interest
Astral travels,
unexplained laws of nature,
powers latent in man
Madame channeled
ascended masters
The Voice of the Silence
The Two Paths
The Seven Portals
"gifts" from the specters
This time Madame stands
to receive between intervals
and only he is seated
Warning him of dark spirits
a dimension outside
of our physical time-space reality
shadowing, making absence
of light a necessity
To invoke them
another nod
Continues unabated
Reveal the truth!
By sacred decree, by order
Behind the phenomenon
details of schemes came to light
Denounced as Black Magic
she was no longer to fright
Marked as a fraud
it all a façade
The moon is waning
Third quarter
Haphazardly,
Infinity and affinity mingled,
In an asymmetry imbalance.
A dishevelled universe,
Grew and shrank as fire devoured,
Yet ice sustained.
Outrages currents swirled,
Straightened, dispersed, and garnered,
Dissipated into nothing,
Only to surge again and again and again.
Until a soft soothing spirit unfurled itself,
Protracting into every nook,
Fire and ice detached their selves
Into their proper assumed place,
Light and darkness found their proper place.
How harmonious was creation now!
Awaken, white and yellow daffodils
Entice the honeybees and butterflies
Bring back the blue birds to my window sill
So I can hear those spring time lullabies
Arouse oh robins, welcome in the green
I long to smell the scent of fresh cut grass
Just splash some color, nothing too obscene
A harbinger that winter soon will pass
Arrange the sun, that it may tilt just so
upon my shoulders warm as summer's eve
The spring ensues the winter's afterglow
And brings with it a touch of sweet receive
Let colors dance together in our dreams
And bathe with love's ensemble by the stream
Written by Mystic Rose and Daniel Turner
Thank you Vie for collaborating with me on this sonnet.
Mystic moon lit sky
Light set sea's face on fire
Ladder to heaven!
© Demetrios Trifiatis
12 July 2017