Best Pursuer Poems
if flowers write about love storms
and the moon obeys the heart’s blaze
would you, O Dawn’s King
become my forever flame ~
the wild-blue fire,
finger-locking our besotted souls…
aching obsessively to taste
the sacred warmth
from the Asclepius arms
of Cephisesus’ spring river
ricocheting and reflecting
the burning desire we breathe…
and I listen ~ in amatory silence,
to your voiced whispers
the slow, soft velour laughter
as you caress my sky
with poetic phrases ~
igniting this ink to release
blooms spooned with fervent sighs
lines linear against
the hysterical history
of hurt without healing…
but if only the petals
floating and
frolicking in the wind
could empathize
with how my lips thirst
with flares of jealous heat ~
wanting desperately
to be the trembling skin
the only zephyr
that touches your smooth silk fever…
O pursuer of pressed passion
my reason to remain alive
relinquish into the orchard
of rooted, clandestine utopia,
where I savor the luscious liqueur
spilling from the titillating tips
of scribbled Shizuka ~
kiss me when the sun sleeps
feel me when the Venus stars awake
dress me in dancing darkness.
I will be the violet spark
to your electromagnetic light…
take me beyond time
eviscerate the
evil threads of illusion
unchain the steel of
our imprisoned pages,
let the words flow as one..
for my heartbeat now
is the sober mirror to your pulse
nevermore remembering
the final glimpse
of an irreversible ending…
** inspired by the artwork The birth of Venus, Sandro Botticelli ~
“joy, empathy, compassion
on an upward arc
an effervescence eternal
causes bliss ignition to start” ~ Unseeking Seeker
I unlock the crystal frames
of these honest eyes,
to the sizzling sparks ~
the seraphic wings
of iridescent effulgence,
swirling and swaying in silence
between spaces of rising stars.
It’s a priceless adoration,
this soul’s cosmic compassion
surfing in sync with persistent passion,
in lyrics that Kundalini light illustrates
to the chakras of nameless existence,
where material mists
do not manipulate my faceless muse,
nor impress the magnetic rhythm
of flames entwined in faultless faith…
O phoenix sun ~ peace pursuer ~
my clarity verbalized in calm vowels,
I cradle the intuitive
activator of awakening,
an ambience of amplified auroras
alive and aroused by the hypnotic scent
of ivory roses,
blooming within inner conscience.
For you are the glass sky
that stirs my spirit in patience ~
unclothing the confusions
that cloud the
cerulean of my heart’s eden,
for love is a reborn feeling,
enlightening the weariness of breeze
to return like empathetic embers
amidst the
air flowing in blissful balminess…
Tonight, I b r e a t h e
the resurgent radiance
of everlasting agape,
hold the warmth
of relentless rippling romanticism,
as fingers quiver in quiescence,
as thoughts place their trust
in erasing erratic errors of ego,
that once blinded me from attaining
the divine affection
of desire draped in the formless
flowering lotus blaze,
listening as this ink release
the rhythmic runes of resistance,
engrossed in effervescence eternal,
to feel the
fuel of fragranced illumination…
So move through the pulse
of these metaphors
and alliterated verses,
melt into the unmetered mellifluence
of magical monologues,
so effortlessly,
whilst intoxicated by the stimulation
of deep awareness ~
O beloved dawn, I am the manifestation
of ineffable metamorphosis,
I speak in coherent reveries of peace,
wearing the tiara of truth,
crowned through
woven zephyrs of zestful trust,
as you now remain,
sculpted into these amorous veins
like an unreadable engraving,
a pristine presence;
heaven handwritten,
only my conscious sighs can render…
Your eagle-plumed lips breathe:
hold on to my angel-flying heart,
bite the unbroken
bone of my wing,
...and I succumb to your enticing heat,
O, to be free in your feverish flame ~
the humble fall of hope into
the sun-calmed kiss of your sea,
learning to move
and muse amidst the mystery
as I heed the slow sink
of mundane minutes
into splitting silence,
leaving no note of music,
as darkness dissolves
like the deepening daf
of an ancient ache ~
for whirling waves resemble
dervish devotees,
intoxicated by euphoric ecstasies…
But would you, the divinely placed
speaker of light and fate ~
still love my scarred swell
if, perhaps, you saw
the unavoidable ugliness
of unintentional uninterestedness ~
the failure to seek the sun that hides
when wakeful stars scintillate,
perhaps too reluctant to romanticize
anything that warms the sky
besides the saffron of golden dawn?
I am too tired to test the tides,
to see where they crash.
I am too torn to tease
and treat tribes
of tactful treachery with tolerance…
Take me as I am ~
I am the pursuer and the escaper,
the possessor and the possessed,
the wilderness and the peace,
the destruction and the dream,
constantly pushing and pulling,
learning to normalize
being the siren adrift
amidst aquatic angst ~
So wade with me, O oceanic nomad,
someday we will no longer be
just you and I,
but crooning currents
drawn only to the
magnetic magic of the mermaid moon;
we will rise as
Moirai mystics,
dancing with destiny,
engrossed in life’s pulsing peridots,
devouring Pele’s passion…
We were never meant
to conquer the chaos,
but to candidly claim the clemency
of rippling pearl blooms…
I am an island of love
that is yours truly ~
***Inspired by the artwork; The Sea Maiden, 1894
Herbert James Draper
A pursuer at an precocious age,
Instantly able to set the stage.
Unaware of the glare from a piercing stare,
Calculated thoughts and moments planned; the prey would be snared.
Indulging in oratory flights of beautiful language,
Enticed by a venomous tongue the prey languished.
Striking the first note of genuine eloquence,
The Huntress pillaged without rendering an element of forbearance.
The impending execution of the venom ignited an explosion,
That there was an instant expulsion.
From the impending death,
The prey took a long deep breath.
The craving of the Huntress had grown,
The prey subsided with a shuddering moan.
Towered by the Huntress’s shadowing eclipse,
Impetuous feeling the softness of her kiss.
@ Tunisia Torres
2/3/2009
Last night you entered
'neath a dimmly lit light
Enchanting,perchancing
sensual explicit sight
Red silken scarff dazzling
enhancing my imagining
Flow of allure curve's
exciting my every nerve
Your dance had me reeling
pent up inner feeling's
Your touch baby smooth
immediately unglued
Continually pursued,my pursuer
my erotic doer......
You may have entered my light
but I'm entering you now tonight.....
Above the Blue Ridge hills
flights of stealth owl
glide in from the moon.
Strange how a jungle is never quiet
but these Tennessee woods
sleepwalk along moccasin paths
watched over by the velvet foliage
of dreaming tree.
Owls are the true eagles here,
they hunt the thriving flesh
and distain all that no longer trembles.
They do not scavenge
but scatter prey before them
hunting the huntable on sonic waves.
Sometimes on a summer night I leave a cabin
to walk among the owls and nightjars.
To sit silently listening to the rustle and scurry
of a timid pulse and the silent wings
of its pursuer.
Occasionally a deer is startled
by an incautious movement
sending it crashing through the dark brush.
I do not carry a gun here, but if I did
I would never break the silence of these woods
for the voices of the dead and the living
sing in the air as softly as stars do
when reflected in the eyes of hunting owls.
The crisp-cut, full moon hung high in the sky,
Staring down upon him like a demon eye.
Through the foliage a column of moonbeam fell,
Pinning him in its center as a scream did expel,
Reverberating and echoing like a tolling bell.
Unknowing if it came from him or another,
He stood stock still, repressing a shudder.
At that moment on the outer edges of his sight
City light filtered through the trees like blight on the night,
Neither bettering or worsening his situation, place nor plight.
Forever followed by a malevolent being,
One so inconspicuous, rendering others unseeing.
Fear frozen, he listened, felt and silently stood,
Unable to tread and thread through the wood;
Though, with its open passage, anyone could.
Desolation and depression then danced in his head
Like the dust motes within the moonshine overhead;
Their swirl and twirl did hypnotized and hinder
Bringing forth his dark, death harbinger,
One composed of an inner specter.
Since flight proved futile, his pursuer closer than his heel,
He abruptly decided to embrace the ground and kneel.
Within his consciousness there was a drastic upheaval;
A sudden exhumation of pure, long-dead evil.
The metamorphosis complete; purity lost the fight.
He then strolled down toward the city light.
I fail to sleep by night as
My soul sails away from me
My eyelids collapse, heavy with sleep
As I hear toothless voices
Spouting out truth like a fountain with rusty waters
They inform me of memories I knew nothing of
The memories lost with those who came to pass
The memories of ways healing to my loneliness
And portions to my present sorrows (cause of lament)
Memories of gifts, that promises as heavy clouds promises heavy rain
I hear the lamentations of those long gone as they whisper unto me
Their whispers thin with our desires
Their faces marked with maps of aging
They say child
Long have we sought for peace from the beginning of our beings,
Timeless have we blamed the rivers of being dump purposely because of their everlasting endurance
But now as you can tell, the pursuer has caught up with us, the weary
So we chose the dry shell to arouse
For you the eggshell when planted with the right yolk, the outcome is
Gifts available in abundance
Run and never grow weary
You may live calmly as you please
A life of slow life style
And never hurry or rush
A life of patiency, for you need not hurry
The yoke is in you
As i try to reason all this
I notice that of all these writings I scribble
I am beyond age to understand
For I wrote in ancient vowels everyone seemed to have forgotten
For sure I am a hatchling
Simplify your riddles you whom dust has claimed
For I am a hatchling compared to your knowledge
Pardon I ask
Puzzled as i was I asked for translation
Ask who my child?
The great voices turn to trembling voices as they say
Ask the florist where to find the rose of Sharon
Ask the builders which is the chief cornerstone
Ask the physicians which is the greatest amongst them all
Ask the Einsteins for the source of eternal data
And when you find the lily of the valley
He shall lead you wherever He goes, He shall carry you through difficult phases
For He is the good Shepherd, the greatest amongst them all
He shall renew your shell
Fill in the yoke
And the river of flowing living waters shall flow in you
now voice.
A glorious sunset in an opening
Never before seen. Miles from nowhere.
Dimming iridescent sunset.
The forest shines light to the East
Eyes can't adjust to the shadows of the West.
The light of the day led to this throne
Breaking trails though walls of green
Opening like a curtain revealing anew
Wanted to leave early but decided against
Opting for just one more moment of awe
Faced with uncertainty direction is known
Only because backwards was in hours ago
First steps are easy as the forest denses
Ruckus of movement echoes away and back
Lumbering clumsily full of strength
Sticks breaking, leaves brushing
Thorns sticking, bits of bark blinding
Blackness of night dimming. Steps weakening
Shins stopped by logs. Bruises throbbing
Straight lines becoming circles
Faint remnants of twilight rotate on horizon
Ducking under widow-makers blindly
The tree fogs hums rising
Deer huff sightless upon approach
The lonely wolf between here and home
Draws out a far-to-close harmonious note
What was that? A sound I didn't make
Stopped abruptly, heal to toe tipping
Heavy breaths echo from mouth to ear
Holding breath with throat rasping starting to crackle
Ears perked pinging the darkness.
Faint white noise increasing in volume
Sharp cracks penetrate the silence
It's coming right at me.
Fear races, body tenses
Bear on a charge with it's prey in sight
Heavy limbs breaking, small branches twanging
Thrashing closer as hairs raise on end
Skin of scalp tightens sloughing from the skull
Legs begin running before being told
The brain is still interpreting failing senses
Gnarly fangs of timber tearing at cloth and flesh
Anguish escapes with a primal face crunching growl
As crag hooks foot in a hand-less fall
Ears ringing as pain numbs in anticipation
Louder and louder the pursuer above crashes
Veering right past me
Another wayward traveler surging aimlessly
Thrashing the darkness as if being chased.
Trying to find his way home in the Dark.
In the Dark
9/11/17
She filled her shopping cart to the brim.
Warm clothes to wear on cold winter nights,
Some food for the flame and whatever else,
Many things, that seemed to have future value.
She walked the streets night after night.
Bubble gum rings and plastic beads, her treasures.
A colorful existence responsible only to herself –
One night, she ran across the street
In front of an oncoming car and was saved.
Her pursuer gave up and went home.
It was abandoned in an old neighborhood.
Without her cart of goods and with hair strewn,
She went to the department store.
There were plenty of grocery carts there.
Each one waited empty wanting to be filled.
She did not have a job, but she loved things.
This time, she walked inside and looked around.
There was food; there were clothes; everything.
She looked wantonly at it all and at many people.
She took an empty cart to freedom and fresh air.
She walked the streets, night after night.
When her cart was full of found items,
She slept on a cardboard bed beneath the stars.
Huddled alone in a warm coat from her cart,
She rested until tomorrow, which always came.
2/14/2017
Written for “Theater of the Absurd´ Poetry Contest
She was running for her life
feeling his hot breath and his
clutching at her clothes. Crashing
through the trees and thick undergrowth.
Stumbling, still feeling him getting closer
She gave a muffled scream as tumbling over
and over she fell down a steep embankment.
Lying there dazed a tongue started to wash
her face. Opening her eyes she realised that
her pursuer was a friendly boxer who thought
she was playing, never realising he had nearly
scared her to death as he grabbed her clothes.
thankfully she threw her arms around his neck.
Completely lost, she said, you will have to find
the way to her new friend, swiftly he led her back
to the road and sat by her car. Looking closely
she could see he was a stray and let him into
her car. So all turned out well for both.
A funny thing happened on the way to my house.
Another balmy spring evening whiled away in the park,
Swinging through examination blues and unrequited crushes.
Those rocky teenage years!
Homeward-bound, my best friend and I,
Via avenues bowered by cherry blossom in the prime of life.
Tranquil thoughts and cheerful chatter.
Dusk was falling.
Suddenly conversation was curtailed.
A twinge of anxiety.
Panic over, the crawling car advanced up the road.
And stopped! Window down this time!
It waited for us to pass then resumed its creeping tempo.
The tension rose. We picked up pace.
There it was again, the menacing vehicle,
awaiting our approach.
No words exchanged but a fleeting glance
triggered the alarm;
A grotesque appearance repelled the eye.
Decision made. At the nearest house we rang the bell
And explained our anxiety.
Our liberator ushered us into the lounge,
Where a sea of eccentricity greeted us.
The doorbell rang. It was him!
Behind us the latch clicked firmly closed.
We stood face to face with our ‘pursuer’.
And then the penny dropped.
He had been checking the house numbers
Simply wanting to locate the address
Of the fancy dress party.
Our ‘good Samaritan offered us a drink.
We sheepishly declined,
eyes lowered, faces reddened.
We made our excuses
And laughed all the way home!
Isn't it amazing when I have it all
I see the world's dark, it's pall
I have naught but light around
Yet focus on inequities that abound
With sustenance I am stocked
With security I am fenced
Impecuniarily blocked
My ignorance washed, in enlightenment rinsed
The simple stirring of a tree in breeze
Are to me inspiration, wind a-lee
Its shudder and shake in the night
A ship of time I travel, hurled alight
Peoples who are seen evil, seen as naught
I see other side, their cause in blood bought
They who history castrates, denigrates
Yet cast down, brought low, victims of fate
The man who stood for principle at one time
Is cast down as liar, as pursuer of crime
He Who spilt his blood for his cause
Is made pointless, victim aft-printed crime
The hero who in his time was God
Is now scorned, in home abroad
He who leapt and strode with giant step
Is called a rebel, traitor and shunned, leper
I stand for those who were downtrod
Truly forgotten
Who charged for glory misbegotten
Lost, as rebels in cause now darkened
In my veins runs their blood memory
Here I live, a man they wouldn't count free
I study their past and for what they fought
Learn daily, reminesce what their blood bought
They cried for freedom for release
From a system corrupted, that now we don't see
We take it for granted, think not why they died
For principles below ground, buried, denied
October 20 Praises to God Bible Meditations Based on Mark 15-16
Key Verse – Mark 15:39 And when the centurion, which stood over against him, saw that he so cried out, and gave up the ghost, he said, Truly this man was the Son of God.
PRAISE BE TO GOD FOR SHOWING US
TRULY HIS OMNIPOTENCE
Praise be to God for showing us
truly His omnipotence as our:
Proven power-Performer
Pleasant pasture-Provider
Peaceful protector-Pacifier
Prodding progress-Pursuer
Productive prosperity-Propeller
Mark 16:20 Praise be to the Lord for
His resurrection that manifests His:
Victorious greatness against death
Virtuous goodness against destruction
Valuable graciousness for our deliverance
Vibrant grandeur along His glowing dominion
Visible governance over despair and discouragement
Mark 16:20 Praise be to the Saviour for
working with us:
Counselling us with His wisdom
Confirming His Word along our walk
Counting on our commitment in His will
Charging us to watch against worldliness
Commending our worship by His worthiness. Amen!
October 20, 2024
POEM 17 A DREAM
I HAD A DREAM & THROUGH MY VISION
MY DREAM CAME TO REALITIES.
I AM A PROFESSOR OF LIFE THROUGH
ADVENTURES MY EXPERIENCES BECOME
A LESSON.
I HAVE WISDOM OF WORDS THROUGH MY
SKILL MY WORDS BECOME A STORIES.
I AM A PURSUER OF HAPPINES THROUGH
MY JOY, MY HAPPINESS BECOME REALITIES.
MR. PROFESSOR. JERRY”BIG PAPA” WELLS
AUTHOR