Best Refilling Poems
Aquafirs miles away in my mind
warming with springtime sun
lapping upon the shores of my memory
sending involuntary movements to my legs
moving thoughts to music echoing in my limbs
Beethoven's 5th. Symphony catapults me out the door
into glorious sunshine
hiking trails, dormant for months (seems like years)
staring at boulders basking in the sun
touching bark on trees grooves of my growth
smelling the earth dug up with my hands
sifting my life turning my face towards the sun
warming tidal planes in my mind
recalling the ebb and flow of me upon this land
marking my scent in the woods (as men do)
tracking the sun as
it moves across my day foraging sprouting edibles
as earth releases life
pausing to lay down in prairie grass and nap
in sweet scented dreams refilling all my senses
for the journey...
I have still to travel
I have still to travel...
03/29/14
© All Rights Reserved
She
wrapped in ribbons of light
Oh, so sweet a smile
lit
those pistachios in fiery eyes
refilling the vessel of a soul
counting all strings plucked
in excited thrum -
a beating heart
paradise is never far, no
not for me
walked in her graceful dawn
with blooms that go on and on
beguiled by desire's call
She
Charles Aznavour, Herbert Kretzmer (1974) - She
A single drop of water might be a source of solace.
Since what is unseen is destroyed, allow me to stay.
A magnificent ecstasy fantasy, a dreamlike palace
Dreary midwinter is no match for Elysium malice!
Hiding from prying eyes, a visit under a gloomy sky
A single drop of water might be a source of solace.
With mind two-way mirror, despite how lawless,
Souls glance at each other; let me for a while sway.
A magnificent ecstasy fantasy, a dreamlike palace
We're falling into the abyss, surrounded by darkness.
Yield to the crowds swirling cognitive waters bay.
A single drop of water might be a source of solace.
Come level my solace, lines contain no rare promise
Lazing in wilderness fields, Elysian meadows fly.
A magnificent ecstasy fantasy, a dreamlike palace
Receiving prizes while lying on the desolate display.
Refilling, ripping, and sowing occur after we pray.
A magnificent ecstasy fantasy, a dreamlike palace
A single drop of water might be a source of solace.
Written: February 07, 2023
Sometimes my mind ponders, and I sit in wonder, why does God love me?
Because getting along with me can't be easy.
But thankfully He's faithful, nothing I can do to change Him.
Unconditional, He fills my cup to the rim.
There are days like today that I need a refilling, and I know that my God is forever
willing.
I can gain the world but lose my soul, I'd much rather stay complete and whole.
Because friendships come and fade away, but I know my God is here to stay.
I am reading
"Democracy in Black"
by Eddie S. Glaude, Jr.
but continue reconstructing this title
"Hypocrisy in Only White."
Because
when I let my memory
look back to my own self-interests in history
as archaeological digging and prying and discovery,
adventure and curiosity
of my internal ecological development,
I reweave back
through still on-going matriarchal lines
that include,
are shared with,
anyone capable of reading
and comprehending
these words of regenerating memory.
Back
to darker
denser
richer genes and memes
of cooperative to still thrive today,
saving competitions for survival moments.
Back to
better to prey together
side by side
as neanderthal brothers and sisters
than to grow predative
against each other.
This Golden Rule
of dark Afro-Eurasian
equatorial resonant depth
of historical origin
in normative play
at least until we substitute capitalism's
supremacist agendas
for rationalism's ego-ecocentric
reweaving memory
of this original Earth Mom
magical and mysterious
then worshiped and danced
ritualed and cooperative ownership co-governing,
then more modern radical eccentricities
forgetting our shared matriarchal
regenetic
memory of dualdark
hypocrisies of merely white inferiority
complexes
disease
dissonance
despair of remaining fully
who we together are,
where we have been
predating history
where we could return
each morning
with greatest polyphonic joy.
To paraphrase David Holmgren
(Permaculture, p. 113)
Containers were one essential organic innovation
necessary for this cooperative agrarian revolution.
Opportunities to refill organically produced bodies
are enormous
transitioning into recycling energy descent
for shared cooperative memory.
Reimaging full organic containers
is far better than sending us
away and down and out for recycling.
Most official ecopolitical waste reduction strategies
place little emphasis
on organic reuse refilling re-educating
deep ecologically learning containers,
or confuse WinWin refueling,
reweaving,
with capitalism's WinLose recycling,
switching productive containers
into merely consuming eventual empties,
bleached-out white-washed faded hypocrisies
of purest supremacy against nothing
deeply densely
richly resonantly valued.
10/2/12
-------------------------
Reveled through the world His words are cherished
Many read the peace of His words, yet works be perished
We see the problems without the power to cure it
Lacking the wisdom we need and God’s Holy Spirit
The Feast of Tabernacles calls many to action
And with it comes happiness and endless satisfaction
Five aspects will lead us closer to the mind of God
He shows us a clear path though our ways are flawed
The paramount action is respect to one another
To be present, formal and kind to each other
What we wear physically and spiritually is important too
To be humble and dedicated in all that we do
The second call for action is the call to rejoice
To enjoy physical food and drink—the desire of our choice
To stimulate the mind with gladness and cheer
And be thankful for our trials as we ponder the year
The third act is important and it is to recall
All the blessings and promises of the coming Kingdom of God
To read back in scripture to the great men of faith
Allowing your mind to rest from the wreck of sin’s ache
As we recall we find it necessary to recommit
To be re-awakened in His life—to make something of it
We may want to acknowledge where we have fallen short in the past
Not dwelling in the desires of physical life—the things that won’t last
The last course of action will help us toughen the shell
We must recharge to build—keep refilling the well
By the Spirit of God we are quenched in barren terrain
Releasing sheets of merciful, cool rain
Many will suffer before the peace begins
But continue we must until the very end
I wish all could know just what is in store
God will reveal it eventually—just knock on His door
Encouraged by the Spirit we become the light
Defying worldly governments—refusing to fight
Shortcomings are inevitable and mistakes will be made
It is not difficult to fall—to be easily swayed
“People can be free, but still enslaved"
But in the end, all will have the chance to be saved
Look to the Bible and try what you read
Perhaps you’ll discover where the narrow path will lead
*inspired by David Hulme*
somewhere,
along an intersection of a mystical dance,
I have climbed, levitated and roamed
into a pathway of seasonless space,
where my fluid, heightened breath
circles along veils of astral light
sun eclipsing moon: dark-toned, half-streaked...
one flick of a star nestled on my blown hair
while another winked softly combing a fiery sky,
somewhere: a tunnel shapeless and lucent
enters inside the skin, refilling the airiness
of being flown into a time reborn: ethereal,
radiant , fed by something unbidden in my life...
I was outside of my body as if some god
poured angel tincture on my head…
there and then, the noisiness of a kinetic
earth-world suddenly stopped while
a halo of tranquillity releases
all the pride ( ego) dissolving like evening’s ash,
somewhere
*
7/4/2017
John Lawless' And Then It Stopped Contest
Oh the things I could have said
During the heat of our wrangle
I kept tact and class instead
Of controlling every angle
For every grenade you threw
I had two more on my belt
I chose to let yours accrue
Just to see how you felt
I took the high road
To say the very least
I could have leavened my load
Your humility, my feast
Instead I kept picking up
The insults that you threw down
Refilling the cup
You would spill on the ground
Hours you must have dedicated
Digging for bones in my closet
You must have left so frustrated
From chomping at the bit
I imagine a jarring epiphany
Leaving empty handed
A truly tearful symphony
Not the way you planned it
Quarreling with a nun
Produced no satisfaction
When your rant was done
You lacked my reaction
Surly you know what I left out
The words to fill in the blanks
The severity of stupidity so very stout
You will walk your plank
Young and newlywed, I was
visiting my in-laws
Minus husband that time around
as work took me to their town
Sunday, it was, I arrived for lunch
carrying lilies for them in a bunch
Dressed in the best of my possessions
eager to make a fragrant impression
Mother-in-law had cooked rice and beans
sautéed cabbage and peas for the greens
Kept telling her the food was great
as she insisted on refilling my plate.
I could feel my tummy bloat in much haste
under the skinny belt I wore at my waist
Sucked in as she offered me the fruit
but could not repress the foul toot
Out and loud, it unabashedly came
Pity, there was just no one else to blame!
My face must have been white like a ghost’s
that sound of me will be remembered the most
Written on 07/11/2016
Yesterday, snapshots of life framed the sky
All past timelines refilling mind’s pages;
My chapters from youth’s byways lingered, when
Troubles of identity reached a sharp peak. They
Seemed to question a need to conform, but
So undaunted was I to be my own imprint.
Far the miles my feet wished for something else,
Away from usual paths in need of new quests.
Now, I listen to spirit enlightening my days
It cradles a stillness borne out of reflection.
Looks like the rebel within has withered
As I embrace the beauty of today’s mellowing.
Though rough winds trigger anticipation
They're washed by night’s reckoning;
Here in a space of tenderness, I listen
To the rhythm of moon bouncing: paced twirls
Stay within my center with ease and compassion.
Oh snapshots drift as mere apparitions;
I enter light’s arc blazing, while fluid instincts
Believe the past has forged a sense of rebirth.
In calm acceptance, my heart cherishes this wisdom;
Yesterday brought forth the deliverance of my soul.
Yesterday's Acrostic Contest
by nette onclaud
I wanna tell you a story about a little girl
A beautiful sweet little girl
who enjoys living in her
own world of recluse
hopscotching to the beat of
her own drum
She's a dreamer and boy let me tell you
her imagination loves to run wild
You may find her gazing at the stars
envisioning the birth of an
ORANGE MOON
while love RAINS DOWN
Once gray skies dissipate
Heaven then opens up
as the GOLDEN LIGHT OF THE SUN
sticks to her skin like HONEY MOLASSES
She imagines taking A
LONG WALK to admire
the beauty growing
from the branches of
an APPLE TREE
reminding her that she too
grew from her family roots
to become BEAUTIFULLY HUMAN
She is CROWN ROYAL
BLESSED to have witnessed God
line her journey with FOUR LEAF
CLOVERS to impregnate her
with luck in the form of strength
It empowers her to move mountains
and dismantle walls 20 FEET TALL
Fearing no DANGER
she marches ON AND ON
like a SOLDIER pushing through
rivers of obstacles GETTING IN THE WAY
of her purpose
The SPRING SUMMER FEELING
leaves her SO IN LOVE
as she quietly confides in the flowers
by telling them
"the ancestors are WATCHING ME"
all while dancing to THE EARTH SONG
wearing peace and
blessings on her feet
while basking in the
manifestation of gratuity
He mother nurtured her
with food for thought
refilling her with infinite wisdom
She can hear her mother's gentle voice
telling her "GON' BABY, DON'T BE LONG
TIMES A WASTIN' and
be sure to pack light TODAY so you
don't hurt your back trying to
reach your NEXT LIFETIME"
The sticky sweetness
of an EPIPHANY rest on her mind
She levitates amongst the clouds
to swing on a rainbow
She don't want nobody
next to her on this journey
but the good Lord
guiding her beyond the ROLLING HILLS
and the valley low
holding her hand
until reaching her destination
to the woman she aspires to be
In her possession she has $3 and six dimes
a bag full of scribes
and a book filled with PENITENTIARY PHILOSOPHY
written by Mumia Abu-Jamal
I am proud of this beautiful sweet little girl
who enjoys living in her
own world of recluse
hopscotching to the beat of
her own drum
She's a dreamer and boy let me tell you
her imagination loves to run wild
©5-11-2020
I had my story all figured out
I'd go to prison for a couple of years
Write some novels when am in there
Hopefully some best sellers
Leave the prison rich, maybe buy a house
Never to toil for a job
My only struggle would be refilling the ink in my pen
My only setback, would be family
But then you told me your story today
And I thought, how could anyone go through all that and not lose sanity?
Your story made the chains on my legs feel like cooked spaghetti
Your story reminded me that all I needed to do was to go on my knees and talk to God
He will listen, He will deal with the shackles in my life
All I have to do is believe and trust in Him
You are a true woman of God
From a rib, to a God's vessel
Am blessed to have you in my life
By faith you have taught me that I don't have to go to prison
Or worry about leaving it as a vengeful angry woman
Or even entertain the idea of leaving prison as a mellow and renewed being
Because I don't ever have to see those walls.
Lent
What does it mean?
To take the desert stance
Then walk this path
Of greatest resistance
To tangle your heart
With the rocks and the snakes
To lie your head down
Where the deceiver wakes
What is the point?
Of self-denial
To clear out the bitterness
Of the dark tempter's vial
To empty our hearts
When life's hard enough
And leave behind all of that
Comfortable stuff
Why would it reset?
My fluttering heart
If I take my self out
Setting ego apart..
Perhaps it's a call
To empty the space
So the cluttering stuff
Is put back in it's place
If I speak to the emptiness
And invite in the weakness
Facing up to desires
Crowding out Holy meekness
So Lent is the time.
A Divine invitation
To reconnect wholly
With High inspiration
The physical joys
And their transient pleasure
Replaced, not in part
But in full Holy measure
This is heavenly mystery;
A desire to bless
In our weakest position
Of the dry wilderness
So, embrace the unfriendly
Welcome the stranger
Feed up the hungry
As if gifts to the manger
For all we can do
When push comes to shove
In the emptying out
Is refilling with love.
Jinjagoliath
Ash Wednesday
16th February 2021
Natural ecosystems include biosystems,
like plants and animals,
insects and people,
ourselves,
those we love,
Earth,
enemies we love to debate
and possibly hate
Endosymbiotic systems
living within ectosymbiotic teleologies
of connection and disconnection
Communicating in co-relational actions
and sometimes compelling words
of love feeding health
of dawning light refilling dark despair
of abundant life
regenerating holonic co-passion
Swimming in a vast sacred sea
of win/win symbiotic
in-health/out-wealth becoming
planted together better
so less spiritually good
standing unnaturally apart.
Still wishing
Along the lines of fantasy
with crystal glasses flowing the brim
Soft hands would meet on white linen,
as your eyes take me places I have never been
Silence tingles while our hearts speak
across candle flame and glittered dreams
Such is the beauty of this night
neither belong, yet here we are
Fears generate passion
on this perfect evening so young,
and our love forbidden, taboo
but breathing of temptation
Lips ignite a fire within,
looking over shoulders for whoever
only finding desires calling
in the mist of the crowded city
Scented bliss finds me,
arms reach for a touch, long hot touch
behind closed doors
holding back all but the guilt
Still a fever burns as skin blushes
beneath moon lit intoxication
Silhouettes merge, moist in cravings
lone of simpler moments
Fingers dance and sighs sing,
satin sheets spill to unsuspecting floors
when deep in the throws is found,
words have no meaning
Whispers lose their bearing
as oceans part and white foam pleasure
caresses the smooth shore
on this uncharted island called love
Startled by the waiter refilling my glass
I still see you across the room
lingering in his smile, lost in his hypnotic gaze
and here I sit, still . . . wishing it were me
Good night Soupers