Best Pulsations Poems
Ten Thousand White Butterflies
Soft walls undulate like liquid steel
Metamorphic pulsations
Iridescent glow
Spiritual guides
Ushering departed souls
Rippling contractions
From cocoon-like womb
Bringing forth new breath
Replenishing blown out candles
Eyes scrunched
Painful cry
Drowned out by the rustling
One thousand butterflies taking flight
Soaring
Luminescent
Snowflake-like beings
Spreading their light
Within the night
Eternity is born
A baby raises his tiny fists
Mother's tears turn to joy
Floating heavenward on delicate wings
Announcing
Beating
Singing
A child is born
Written with Monterey Sirak.
Thankyou for letting me join you in flight!
He said, “Everything about lust
has already been written!”
Every person, man or woman
at some time will be smitten
Lust can be fetish,
she dresses like a kitten
Romantic and soft
on a bed of white linen
Others want it hard
they long to be bitten
A few have been rubbed
with a sensuous mitten
Some search for lust
they are okay with paying
Choosing a body
pushing deep until they’re weeping
Who knows the secrets
many people are keeping
Lust can be confusing
it messes up our feelings
Yet somehow lust’s pulsations
are way beyond appealing
Clinging and groping
looking up at the ceiling
Holding hands while walking
or lust on a table
Wheelchairs or walkers
each will do what they are able
Images in fairytales
or sexy found on night time cable
It gets under our skin
makes us feel so insatiable
Although the faces change
lust is still the right label
No one has been immune
not even Adam Eve or Able
In the heart of the blackest abyss, down,
Down, in fathoms deep crypt, where light
Does not penetrate, and the structured protective hauls,
Of men, are crushed beneath pressures massive
Weight, of the oceans deepest depth.
This is truly inner spaces aquatic zone of the
Unknown, a realm of stilled silence frozen
In the icy currents of the barren straights.
Where prehistoric giants dwell, amongst the
Tidal flow, ambush predators, forgotten beasts,
From long ago, living krakens whom devour
All life, hidden within their dark domain.
In Poseidon's mighty anger, the waves answer,
To his fists of fury, hurricanes wrath of vengeance,
Gives birth to the perfect storms rage,
Vessels rise and than fall in the tidal surging
Waters.
Nay do the sailors cry out to the Lord God on high,
For redemption's salvation, but the sacrificial altars must
Be appeased, by flesh and bloods sacred offerings.
Summons does the mighty lord of the seven seas,
To release the last of the ancient Leviathans.
Two thousand hands, of a thousand dead men,
Heave and pull at the tethering heavy chains,
To this devil of the depths cage.
From within interments vaulted keep,
Captivities living spawn from hell, is
Unshackled and released, to reek havocs
Devastation above.
An aquatic spider, a maritime widow maker,
Flexing and in-flexing, its body’s motions,
Towards the surface, in pulsations rhythmic
Orchestrations, the gray giant is ready to strike,
With its killing arms extended wide, to grapple
At its unprotected prey, to engorge itself with
All living matter that it surveys, within its icy reach.
As bubbles shoot upwards breaking the waters
Surface, suction cups and talon claws are drawn
Outwards, aligning his eight legged tentacles of bone
Crushing death, behold the Giant Squid, instrument of
Lethal torture, a living killing machine from the fathoms
Deepest depths.
For it is the beast, the true essence of evil
Incarnate, and none survive its destructive wrath.
BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN
Kim's song in French
Lent son du saxophone ; je m'allonge
et j'écoute les paroles du bon vieux temps,
quand Paris était à la mode,
et que le temps de l'amour est révolu
pour la vieille fille sirotant du vin
à la terrasse d'un café ; fixant,
sommes-nous, les yeux d'un tableau
pluvieux et coloré ; romantiquement
par le son frémissant du saxophone ;
ses notes flottant sur la Seine.
Gouttes de pluie grises, bleues et cerisiers en fleurs ; un sourire subtil sur des lèvres rouges,
rappelant la beauté et les heures passées ;
claquement de talons et belle robe.
Paroles et vocables posés et assurés
régularisent mon cœur, réchauffent mes pulsations.
Une voix fredonne, tandis que les doigts du phoniste s'agitent,
fourmillent tous les sens ; variateur de cabernet.
To uphold clean ethics you may strive,
But which unfeeling fool does not know
That stolen honey out-tastes that of your hive,
And that the grass is always greener over the fence?
Silver and golden rings do strongly bind
And vows of chastity nail heart to heart,
But the pulsations of newfound love
Rock and rewind things back to the start.
So return that honey-coated flirt with a flirt
And let the tides of destiny take their course;
Nothing ever happens by accident or some luck,
For it’s the hands of providence that gather and toss.
Feel the warmth of newfound love invade your heart
And, babe, return that sweet flirt with a sweeter flirt.
On a cold November morning
Frost wrapped the world in an ashy hue
Sucking the heart from silence
As an optimistic sun gazed through
Naked branches of oak and maple
Peeking through the limbs of gray
Lighting the indigo skies with grace
Dancing, flowing, praising
In waves of enchantment, such riches
Radiating warmth and awaking
The crackle of leaves, stunned
By the bitter air, the chilling stare
Of freezing sparkles on thoughts
Met by the luster of dawn
Revelations caress the mind
Of those who listen to the pulsations
Rumbling through the thoughts
Echoes of dreams, dulled
By reality’s dark plans for the one
Who listens to shadowy feelings
Deprived of hope or faith
Lingering on the edges of silhouettes
Who dread the moment, stirring
To life – the sense of delight
Inspiration and insight
Peppering the darkness in joy
Pleasures like seeds who’ll be growing
Love, the anointing
Of a life full of glory
A frosted November Sunday
Breathless and murky with hues
Of obscure inklings twinkling
Like the hesitating stars
On a quiet night
Flooded with desires, dreams
Amazed by the creation
Blessed by His presence
Even here – among the thorns
Who hasten to bite soft flesh
With frozen barbs, like wire
Bringing the ooze
Of crimson flowing over
Icy cool thoughts
Enriching the heart
With feelings from a deep
Longing, a need
For the belief that imagines
Love is forever
A never ending feeling
Forever giving
Never leaving
Always satisfying
On a cold and vibrant November morning
Love melts the heart
Who is yearning for the promise
Of a feeling that brings
Joy beyond words, more alive
Than the dance that inspires
Poets to write, artists to paint
As hearts unite
To share their life!
the ether is alive with oscillations
pulsations and electric frequencies
satellite and shortwave intonations
invisible, yet carried on the breeze
neutrinos and photonic modulations
infrared and x-rays, promptly spun
ultraviolet streams and applications
gamma rays and ions from the sun
ozone filled with radio transmission
microwaves pass thru us constantly
the residues of past nuclear fission
all that we have yet perceived to "be"
I've always had an issue with believing
the paranormal "ghosts" phenomenon
yet, with all the atmosphere's receiving
who am I to say what's here ... or gone?
~ 8th Place ~ in the "Ghosthunters And Spiritualists" Poetry Contest, Kevin Shaw, Judge & Sponsor.
Winter's Perfect Heat
“Snowflakes gather in crystalline drfitings”
Lifting your hair, kissing the nape of your neck
Warm flesh waits on tippy toe desires
Lips brush skin, lower beyond silver chain clasp
Sighs slip past moon shadow echoes
“Frost bitten warnings fuel whistling winds”
Candlelight flickers in illumined frenzy
Strong hands caress velvet curves, moving
Satin petals excite at the touch, firming
Mouths meet across milky shoulders
“Chilly coatings mingle, drafty windows squeal”
Reaching behind delicate fingers guide, slowly
Passion emanates from quivered partings
Honey drippings moisten, sticky, sweet
Whispered moans tantalize, moments ignite
“Wind chimes sing frantically behind icicle curtains”
Down pillow yearnings, grasped, held
Eyes look back, smiles meet motions
Held closer, breathless exhales on dreams exposed
Deeper finds the pristine moment
“Algid gusts wail through frigid echoed alleyways”
Names loudly called, enchanted nirvana
Faster still, bodies in charged friction
Two become one, senses explode, flooding oasis
Eruptions quake bodies in perspired heap
“Arctic blast pierces sweltering pleasures”
Ecstasy sings in midnight harmonies
Melodic as the polar pulsations beyond
Numbed in devotion’s destinations
Wondrous snowy white blankets chill the world
“As our love provides winter’s perfect heat”
Good night Soupers
Winter’s Passion’d Heat
“Snowflakes gather in crystalline drfitings”
Lifting your hair, kissing the nape of your neck
Warm flesh waits on tippy toe desires
Lips brush skin, lower beyond silver chain clasp
Sighs slip past moon shadow echoes
“Frost bitten warnings fuel whistling winds”
Candlelight flickers in illumined frenzy
Strong hands caress velvet curves, moving
Satin skin excites at the touch, shivering
Mouths meet across milky shoulders
“Frost coatings mingle, drafty windows squeal”
Reaching delicate fingers, soothing touches
Passion emanates from quivered partings
Honey drippings moisten, sweet syrup yearnings
Whispered moans tantalize, moments ignite
“Wind chimes sing frantically behind icicle curtains”
Down pillow yearnings, grasped, held
Eyes look back, smiles meet motions
Held closer, breathless exhales on dreams exposed
Deeper finds the pristine moment
“Algid gusts wail through frigid echoed alleyways”
My name, loudly sung, enchanted nirvana
Faster still, bodies in charged friction
Two become one, senses explode, flooding oasis
Eruptions quake bodies in perspired heap
“Arctic blast pierces sweltering pleasures”
Ecstasy sings in midnight harmonies
Melodic as the polar pulsations beyond
Numbed in devotion’s destinations
Wondrous snowy white blankets chill the world
“As our love provides winter’s passione’d heat”
Good night soupers.
In our crimson embers lie the snowflakes
In our snowflakes rise our whispers
In the downward valley
You asked
Where are gone the embers
My bird asks your roses
The maniac cucumber
That would change your proses
to hankering lyrics
In sync with the drumsticks
and melt the burglar ice
seated in the starving slice
of my days and nights
into my tissues and veins
calling the fire that ignites
the fragile glass of window panes
pouring the dances of rose-fragrance grains
in the lanes and bylanes
of the churning existence on supreme fire
Dancing with the strings of lyres
Squeezing the pomegranate
desire
The snowflakes have robbed us of the curls of earthquake
No tales of ripples in the frozen lake
Purple pulsations have left my neck
Gone are the hours of scarlet cheesecake
We must wait until the white flowers into colors
Our arrival in the scent of sun and showers
Can never end in the frozen bower
Embers proceed with death in snowflakes
New sparks are born to infuse a break
Gather new embers
The golden spurs
of life in spicy strife
The poetry goes on
From Babylon to Houston
From embers to snowflakes
From heartbreaks to handshakes
The sunshine and the tree
The lemon and honey
The blending spree
The blossoming cherry
January 3, 2018
For Embers and Snowflakes-Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Anthony Slausen
I see the light of the morning dawn
Rising across the mountains of emerald
Daylight comes, cutting through the
Silence, whispering a caress across
A azure sky which beckons to the heart
To listen and feel the grace that appears
With the fluid, humble touch of
Hope filling the morning’s ambiance
Hues of heavenly sapphire and cerulean
Misting the ridges with impressions of
Stillness found in the voice of One who
Rides on clouds of harmony, keeping
Serenity awake and alive within the soul
Who knows what it is to breathe in feelings
Of musical notes shaded by the painter’s
Brush, which touches down on the surface
Of pulsations which long to break free from
Melancholy and sigh softly through the breeze
Which answers the sun’s dance along the
Raptures with a creative gesture from the
Pen who feels so strongly it erases the night
As sunshine erases the moon’s glow and reaches
Down with a touch of pure hope that knows
God lives in the heart who knows that this sun
Is merely one more echoing reflection from the
One who looks down on souls with the assurance
That this day will give back gentle colors of love
Lingering on the surface of a beginning for the
Day which reaches out to destiny with faith!
“You are not earth, water, fire or air
Nor are you empty space
Liberation is to know yourself
as Awareness alone
the Witness of these”
As the kundalini ascends
From root to sacral to plexus to heart
Either straight up or through bends
Even as breath flows in and does depart
There are stirrings within from a source enigmatic
We see no difference between form & formlessness
And whilst within form we are enlivened & ecstatic
We feel within our heart the Absolute awareness
We know too at this stage of energy centres above
Which may endow us with enhanced enableability
Yet having awakened at the heart we know only love
Our awareness as love is our being in certainty
Knowing love alone our awareness thus free flowing
Observing & witnessing happenings upon earth
We are as we are in sync with love so blossoming
With blissful joy and an equal eye in bubbling mirth
Epilogue:
What’s love got to do with witnessing & liberation one may ask
Well says the witness when we truly know ourself and so align
The knowing is in the warmth of divine love within which we bask
Both receiving & transmitting exalted pulsations of the Divine
(19-August-2019)
~~~~~~~~~~~
Verse revisited on 22-October-2021
Here we are
We no longer spar
With matters of loss or gain
Equal, as of now, be it sun or rain
True it is, kundalini has risen
Yet did we truly wisen
Sushumna ignited
Heart delighted
Seat of our soul
That makes us whole
Beckons us from the heart
Where bliss ignition renewal starts
We sail through earthy illusions
Tranquil , free from confusion
Revelations intermittent
Yet heart is content
Both light and sound
Within and around resound
Reverberating like soundless thunder
As we imbibe bliss elixir in rapturous wonder
Teleported in a continuum of bliss delight
Renewing within through day and night
What to say, touched by God’s hand
Open secret we alone understand
What was once important is now mundane,
since we look neither ahead nor behind,
resplendent in light of Self, free from stain,
with pulsations of divine will aligned.
There is no time, yet dream images flow,
enlivening existence with their glow
and yet they are but shimmers in the void,
orbiting our heart, pure and unalloyed.
when Medusa feathers
of midnight fractals
dip in my soul
and smear
soft hemlock stardust
across the
celestial ceiling ~
smothered with spinel
my shadow seethes
in the scent
of flaming jasmines ~
as I slip
a n d trip ~
drunk upon opium,
cruising in
cursed ventricles,
and pleading
for the release
of my muse ~
perfumed with
pensive passion,
that burns in the
chamomile craters,
courageous
yet clawed
by the cowardice
of your corvid
cruelties …
this heart is a hostage
held in the heat
of hypocrisy ~
hypnotised to the hues
of your heather hush,
tamed to obey
the time-travelling tunes
of the sun and the moon,
who impersonate
the aura of aurelia
yet, breathe the blush
of bitter-silk butterflies ~
illuminated within
the ivory incandescence
of my inkless innocence …
but, still I am immune
to your illusions ,
as I am nevermore ~
an oasis-rose ash
plucked from the
desert of oblivion,
desperate to deem
this desire my own,
before I stretch
these hands of hurt
and block
the periwinkle
pulsations ~
flowing
in the arteries of
arrhythmic
attachment …
The existence of ego depends on thought,
a magical illusion conjured by mind,
web of incessant motion in which we’re caught
but if we drop desires and leave fears behind,
in the void of silence we become self-taught,
no longer floundering about as though blind.
Attuned with the soft pulsations of our heart,
in restful watchfulness God search we jump start.
As an actor in the dream we’ve manifest,
we take as real, the domain created,
the dream ending only when thought comes to rest,
which occurs when we’re not by desires baited,
that then ambling through life in light hearted jest,
the truth of Self is by heart validated.
When thought flow stops, we are then dehypnotized
whence truth of our true being is realised.