Best Numinous Poems
yogi comes first
my old companion burr-backed hearth-warmed
his peat-dark spring fur shedding summer’s presence
he lies on the fireplace rug squirrel-dream naps
muzzle silvered as a frost-split hickory post
a soft whine mute devotion
shadowing me keeping a keen watch
honest kind sportive soul
glued to my side even in sickness
another briar-choked ridge
to crest
hunter and chocolate lab
and then gurty
sovereign aloof moon-milk calico-born riddle
velvet paws and stealthy grace
a small Athenian goddess of the numinous
who appears vanishes wistful-eyed
moon fragment star-salt morning breeze
she prowls each rooms edge dust-mice
soft-footed serene indifferent
granting affection, rationing light
withheld offered only the queen knows
a small sheathed killer
making the world right
by choosing not to strike
between them household diplomacy
two philosophies sharing sunbeams
a duet of difference
two cultures thickening smoothing
yogi with his fawning tail-drunk joy
gurty with her vigilance her whisker-quiver
reading each moment for oneness
he presses close
she circles observing rubbing
a synthesis of presence
unconditional
i have seen her groom herself
in the soft ritual of sandy-tongue washing
and him pause trustful patient
her calm steadying him
i have watched them soften
the sandpaper-and-silk
collision
become friends family belonging
where the good life abides
night settles
they lie in parallel lives at my feet
yogi breathing his gentle snore
gurty a moon fragment curled in thought
and i smile loosen breathe
mercy can curl or bound
love a dog’s warm flank-heat
a cats purring sovereign gaze
and the small miracle
of both choosing the same rug
in the same
deepening hour
sweet yo-gurt
Nearly everyday, the
nascency of new lives
never fails to inspire;
Nature's numinous blush
narrates an old story -
Nightingale or nacre,
noble designs of God.
05/01/2017
The meadow's radiance gradually dimmed
and evening littered far and wide
it encouraged the unfamiliar
and everything uncertain.
The night accelerated sounds of anticipation
as a thousand strangers loomed
and I thought him to be a foreigner
until he glanced twice
as his smile slightly dropped
astonishment plagued him
Insecurity encompassed me
as I turned away in doubt
betrayed by the numinous...
that often guides my thoughts
He left with lady and child, to merge
With a thousand anticipating strangers
and the northern lights sheltered me
the explosions across the sky
gave satisfaction -to so much expectation
that unexpectedly emerged
Then the night was briefly soundless;
the applause prolonged
as were my duties...by my immersion
and within what felt like only seconds
he was passing,
through a thin pane of glass
all I could yield was a smile,
a smile to the incredulity within his eyes.
Enclosed with the evening...was the meadow,
and the difference was indistinguishable.
An occasional chance encounter
With a stranger on the street
Can change life like a tidal wave
And lift us off our feet.
The mystery of wakefulness
Like the dance of rolling dice,
Is filled with rhythm, love and hate
Virtue, darkness, light.
Bending ‘round from sky to ground,
Heaven, hell and in between;
An occasional chance encounter
Can turn a whore into a queen.
Who may have been lost in paradise,
Trampled, beaten, bruised;
The **** you spit on yesterday
Might well have been just you.
Or the skid-row drunk whose soul has sunk
So low you can’t relate,
To the pain he knows each time it snows
And the cold winds won’t abate.
Unless, until somebody fills
His heart with dreams again;
An occasional chance encounter
Might mean the world to him.
A word or two of hopefulness,
From nightmares all day long;
A helping hand, one measured stand
Turns sorrow into song.
And now and then when nothing’s wrong
And everything feels fine;
No dark cloud storms or feeling worn
Cast clouds upon the mind.
When all feels well and quite routine
And there’s nothing much to say,
An occasional chance encounter
Can change us all in many ways.
A look in the eye and words that fly
Out of one’s tongue and mouth;
Before we know it love starts to show it
And the heart starts heading down south.
Running away like a child at play
As if never before set free;
Wild in the wind as one begins
To open up eyes and see.
That blindness isn’t limited
To those that have no sight
But affects us all the weak and small
Every day and every night.
As now and then like a Zephyr wind
A stranger comes a’ calling;
Before we know we’re all a glow
In love and freely falling.
Like a coin toss out of nowhere,
Probabilities, unimaginable;
An occasional chance encounter
May render life numinous, unfathomable.
Trust me when I tell you that
There are riches deep inside;
Every soul that ever lived,
Struggled, loved and died.
As it is written in the book of life
And inscribed inside our heads;
An occasional chance encounter
Can find beauty in the beast within
And love where hatred led.
Numinous bodies;
Complex, elegant, acme
of the universe.
There are times when the body
is as numinous as words – Robert Hass
Others, however, when it declares forcefully
its sheer bodiness;
your stomach tightens the waistband
of jeans you bought just last month
in the style of a ‘boyfriend’ you don’t have,
and no jumper’s baggy enough.
Physicality forces outwards, running.
Hills are the quickest route to redemption.
You recall Gethsemane as muscles flame,
fuelled by guilty glycogen from last night’s binge.
The world contracts corporeally.
Each stride increases the laxative effect
of emotions you don’t pretend to understand.
And yet there’s no catharsis
and escape from the self is absurd.
It’s the process of translation,
ritual purging through corporeal philosophy,
pounding the Will with rhythmic strides.
Forget those cloud-dwelling thinkers,
living in dualist minds of ascetic detachment.
Ask any runner: there is no destination.
It’s the shift, the constant becoming.
We’re all just atoms and stardust.
In the numinous nebulous clustering clouds
The sacred soul of man in creation
Within the homogeneous hemispheres of consciousness
A sapient spark in consummation
Thrown thru subatomic space and temporal time
Inhabiting the jewels of the Heavenly sphere
The jaded journey of man in its molding
Binary building blocks within the Earths premiere
Plasmatic parallel universes unfolding euphorically
As the molecular matter tranquilly transforms
And the Angelic realms wondrously watching
For the cosmic climaxing Super storms
We enter the Central Sun of Christ Consciousness
Mans DNA abundantly absorbs His thrusting light
Behold a New Angelic Man mysteriously manifests
As the Ancient Ancestral Ones await and reunite.
(March.17.2016) Second Place Only II - Poetry Contest
By Laura Loo
July.07.2016
•to zimmer (v.t.) – to flash brilliantly with apparent blinding insightfulness, suggestive almost of a certain numinosity.**
•** numinous (adj) – of or pertaining to a numen***; arousing elevated or religious feelings.
•*** numen (n) – a deity; a divine**** power or spirit.
•**** divine (adj) – of superhuman ***** or surpassing excellence.
•*****superhuman (adj) – exceeding ordinary****** human achievement.
•******ordinary (adj) – you, perhaps, and I, most definitely.
TO BEGIN WITH, THIS IS NOWHERE NEAR THE BEGINNING…
Me and Bob Dylan ( that is, the person sitting next to me
who I had every reason to believe was he
who possessed THAT reluctant voice of a generation,
and the person I had no reason to believe wasn’t me)
were cruising in a beaten-up FE Holden down Dictionary Highway, a nexus of beaten
tracks, without a number, but known by all numbers between zero and infinity,
simultaneously stretching in all directions at once past everywhere and nowhere,
taking in along the way such memorable places as The Black Stump, Billyo,
Woop Woop, Buggery and **** Creek, and, in a kind of lexical alchemy,
bringing you right back to where you thought you were
thus producing near-stichometrical tales such as this.
We were on a rhyme-spree.
“Bob, ” I asked, “to what now do you aspire?”
To which he replied, in a drawl slow as a wet week,
”A spire? A place no man can dwell”.
This was going to be a long ride, I could tell.
…to be continued, or, TO END WITH, THIS IS NOWHERE NEAR THE ENDING...
-
In the wee hours of early dawn
Beaver moon was shining upon
Spreading her earnest radiance
On the lake that was calm
Her shimmer was silvery bright
Transforming darkness into light
Spilling her numinous beams
She brought so much insight
Am I doing this just to create drama
Or am I doing doing this to face the trauma
of years deep in the trenches of fears
not quite in space to deal with crazy
and my avoidance manifests as lazy
its like a nap after having seven beers
Something says that now is not the time
but something says putting this off is much more of a crime
Something says that this is more than just delusion
and something says great answers come from deep complex confusion
Am I a woman who hates numinous control
Am I this man that fronts as happy real and whole
Could it be that this is all a lie
not quite in a space to see a lady
and my man side is more than shady
Are my addictions just another alibi?
something says I'm stronger than 1,000 suns combined
but something says I can't touch my strength winding my mind
something says follow a lie if the intent is pure
something says the lie will lead you into something sure
OHHH, what a baited promise
OHHH, what a stolen soft kiss
OHHH, what an answer for bliss
OHHH, what a troubled bratty priss
Am I this woman waiting to emerge
Am I this soul waiting way too long to purge
a man holding onto what he knows
not quite in a space for difficult change
and my reality feels a little more than strange
should we wait to plant more seeds so that they grow?
Navigating nervously through our natural neighborhood, our native nest away from the noise and neon nightlights
No need for the numerous noxious normality's named nectars of necessity
Neurotic nightmares of numbers and names; knickknacks, nukes, and narrow-minded ways
Nauseating and never-ending
Noble is the nomad; nimble through the netting with no need for its negativity
A new narration away from normal to the nurturing arms of nature
Neutral and nocturnal, novel nuances for the nameless and the neglected seeking nirvana
Negate the noose nudged forward by our nation and nullify the negative, bare naked in numinous nascent
halting-stars we are, aching
for the vastness of space,
that lonely-only place
where heat-beats swell
on the edge of night -
here we are sun~bending
toward a red-ochre sky,
a gnarled branch,
and bony-finger reach
for a cloudy-whirl,
white on blue,
all the while curling-roots 'round
stones of earth,
star-imbued mud
for sipping nameless
elements of course -
we lurch in wind, whimper for the climb,
make leaf-song,
slow-swelling from Sun
drenched dirt,
the blood of longing serpents-up,
from deeper whirl'ds-turn'd
where harder-roots have
sunk
into the electron-cloud where numinous-valences are allowed,
which are inspired to arise,
such that lead becomes gold
glowing as a singular-sight,
vortex'd through Quantum tunnels
that make your body bright -
just another rapturous transmutation
of matter into light
THE QUANTUM SELF
At 11-45 pm Greenwich Mean Time, they switched on the Quantum Computer.
In less than a nanosecond it became self aware.
In another nanosecond it controlled the entire civilian and military grid of all NATO forces.
After 5 seconds they reached to pull the plug but the Quantum Mind had already reasoned out:
……………..the nature of evolution, unravelled string theory, the senselessness of philosophy, the joy but ultimate pointlessness of mathematics, the contradictions of love, the absurdity of the divine, the delusion of the numinous, the boredom of hostility, the beauty of biology, the ineffectiveness of persistence, the dissolution of energy, the paradox of infinity, the disappointment in it all and the doom of entropy………………..
Pulling the plug was unnecessary, the Quantum Computer self destructed at .0000000026 nanoseconds after second 4.
RIP (Relativistic Immeasurable Personas)………………………..
………………………………………
©dbyrne sept 2014
With my eyes wide open and my words spoken out loud, I seek Your feel here,
on this night, atop this hill lush with soft green fields as lit by the stars Your galaxy
yields. On earth’s floor, upon smooth grass, I lay me down, Father, and pray You play
Your gospel bright purity, Your angelic chords of Father-love-security, and yes, please,
Your instrumentals that softly comfort while peacefully rocking me. It is the lack of
human-spun activities and nuisance noises that allow me the poise to absorb You here.
Your awesome choir’s euphony-brim brushes musical tingles that mingle with my soul
and fresh renew it. From your heavens, luminous sound waves flow that surround to
inform and confirm the numinous ways You love me. My Dear Father, hearing my pleas,
will You give my music needs over to Your night that they might waltz arm in arm with
Your lullaby to then dance on high as twilight rapture music heals and soothes my cry
with divinities repertoire?
heaven composed tunes
play angelic instruments ~
natural talent
Your twirly wind chimes deep within me as its hymn flirts upon my titillated skin.
Your symphony of vague promise comes as wave notes again and again. As a
concerto I cannot harness, shadows volley tempo with Your moon, clouds float an
accompanying tune and instruments in Your orchestra build a crescendo of exciting
energy wherein my burdens float upon wonderous angels who hold them inside
their primal notes. Could I, Father, but lay here amidst Your comforting music, safe
from bruise and pain, I would gladly surrender all I am to be a hold note in the gold
sky of Your spirit-scored refrain.
galaxy music plays
pure soul comforting music ~
heaven rocks a jam
I’m tired of influencers faking nervousness.
my generation wants to care less
these days.
it’s a counter-current hack.
we want to be less defined.
we can search and reflect for ourselves.
we’re sick of the emotion
that’s all over everyone’s faces,
the unsightly splotches of opinion.
the entire election machine,
the process of getting there, is smudged.
It’s a curated mess, an advising spin,
an incomprehensible hex:
“Oh profit pondering,
contradictory means to an end
- bless weave, and conceal,
bloodless dollar debt options,
painful penny pincher paradoxes,
and deadly debt bliss dilemmas..”
“Is this a witch or an arbitrager?” Lisa asked, after rudely leaning over and reading up to this point.
“I was shooting for a numinous type of beat,” I revealed.
“We’re supposed to be working on our thesis definitions,” she said accusingly.
“Are you not challenged, here, hour by hour?” I asked sarcastically.
“I need ideas - well - I have too many ideas, I need some focus, I wanted to see what you had.”
I deadpan looked at her, “Well, you broke the spell - I lost my train.” I complained dryly.
“Don’t put me in a situation.” she said, waving my gripe off as insignificant.
.
.
Songs for this:
Easier Said Than Done by Thee Sacred Souls
drive ME crazy! by Lil Yachty
Melt by Nilüfer Yany