Best Urgings Poems
As quiet blackness deepened
I lay awake my heart in check,
The cool night wind blew
And welcome silence grew…
_______
Unanticipated music exploded
Roused me from bed rest,
I tiptoed to its source:
Dark sounds from downstairs,
Nearer, higher, and louder
Till it reached the hallway.
He grasped my hand,
Whirled it to turn me twice,
Held me close, went on trotting steps
Slow, quick, quick; slow, quick, quick;
Slow, slow, quick, quick...
He never gets tired, he liked the dance.
He led; I followed - his greatest joy;
In perfect timing to his bidding,
I swayed wherever he flung me,
His steps were full of variation –
He liked it that way;
While I only had one reaction –
Receive his urgings.
Perfect dance he'd always say because
It is with such ease when partner is open
That controlled movement is played.
Ungraceful dance I never liked,
But all this time it kept me alive:
His music and diverse steps I sought
And to it I humbly swayed.
Tonight I let him led again,
Just like the other days and nights.
The darkness of the night was strained,
It was only the curtains that were swaying,
To the night breeze with grace,
Stark of light peeped out from the room,
My hands and feet went frozen like ice,
I heard a different tune within, sad, weary,
But slowly roused with excitement
And anger underneath... Heated me up
Ablaze, my eyes red-stained -
He held me closer to him, and I -
Pulled myself too tight to him
He was pleased I saw it in his sated eyes
As I meekly submitted… for the last time.
We did slow, quick, quick steps for a two
Or more and then he let me go; I trotted
Far away from him then back to him
Without his behest, and out of rhythm
His steps were outside our dance floor…
Down the stairs...In open position he lay there,
In his face I saw his dance - the macabre
dance - I never liked at all. His eyes dazed –
He had his final dance with me after all.
_____
The night was cold, yet I felt warm, and the music gone,
The curtains stopped swaying at the night winds’ prodding.
-maria
8/11/14
restless sleep, struggle out of bed
walking like a zombie, newspaper read
thought patterns familiar rise, am in their grip
over cravings nurtured thus far, we once again trip
recognising piquant dilemma, distanced from joyfulness
we reverse attention polarity, choosing playfulness
as an experiment to begin with, soon addictive
before we know it, our orientation meditative
continuous consciousness correction
whereupon we choose our hearts expansion
erases gently aberrations of our conditioned past
memory images of yesteryears now leave us all aghast
we know not about God or any esoteric spiritual technique
discerning mind lays aside urgings that make us weak
as we go in within in deepening tranquil silence
we rekindle flame of love by this dalliance
feeling lighter now, carrying no burden
shifts were slow although it may seem sudden
treading now gently, flowing like the breeze, at ease
we amble along in wonderment, aspect embrace-hold-release
31-March-2021
Today, the local daily papers highlighted a man of honour...
Deserving of his honorific title Datuk bestowed on men of honour...
Given his loud and strident calls for those holding the reins of power....
To better buck up in all matters of governance, to honour pledges while in power..
From relative obscurity, this quiet man has been religiously executing his duties...
As a number 2 man in the high office called the Special Branch, overseeing matters of security...
Given that his beloved nation now staggers under a yoke of suspicion and bad governance....
He is steadfast in his intergrity pledge of topmost quality service to the king and nation...
Loud is his urgings for civil servants to uphold pledges of intergrity and loyalty...
It is obvious his strong conviction is born out of a man of the highest principles...
Befitting the post of the Special Branch deputy director....
Today's interview in The Star provides an insight into his character...
Clearly it shows he is not easily cowed under political pressure..
And most admirably, not seduced by subtle promises from political masters...
Headlined as From Special Branch top cop to enemy of the state...
His candour in this news piece is credit to his character...
He knows where his loyalty lies and he is highly principled...
Admitting that he deliberated well and hard before he launched....
Some very personal and opinionated statements that jeopordised his career.....
When in fact he has merely 1000days more to see the tail end of his career...
What a ignominous exit for the country's top cop because of his stand on integrity...
How many other officers in the goverment dares stand up to uphold such integrity....
This dedicated man daringly calls each spade by its name and no other names will do...
Even as in this complex society we live in, a wrong can be whitewashed with blinded loyalty...
If only there are more politicians and statesman of this datuk's quality...
Our country will not be suffering from escalating racial prejudice...
Or economic ills that is plaguing our posperity and currency...
Are there more men of integrity and high principles..
Are there more such men to help steer this troubled country...?
I look upon a dam today
That nature didn't build
The water wasn't gentle
As the rocks will soon reveal
The danger it is producing
From rain and melted snow
Has caused problems to others
Where the river flows below
The rocks that surround the dam
Have for centuries stood
And gave into the urgings
Of Mother Natures mood
Cracked and crumbling
They do a danger pose
But the man made bridge below it
Allow the mystery to unfold
Their colors and their shapes and size
Were finally brought to light
As the waters and the wind
Pushed the dirt aside
Some of them are red
Some of them are brown
Some of them are green with moss
And some of them are tan
Native foliage in cracks are found
Purple lupin and yellow clover abound
Blue sage brush and mountain dandelions too
Give new life to this awesone view
And as we leave this scene of scenes
The mountain walls do grow
Some rounded intermingling humps
The sharp ones behind could have snow
I look upon the huge red wall
Its remindes me of red clay
The kind I used to play in
Which are now three states away
The white rocks on top this wall
Near match the clouds above
Each rock is different and like the clouds
Change at natures touch
But half way down the red wall
White and blacks stripes come into play
And there on the ground below
Pieces of the stripes do lay
The grassy mountains lucious green
Beckon cattle near
But the forests here are all dead trees
From a fire just last year
Mear words can not discribe
What I really see
No matter how hard I try
It's a small bit of heaven to me
Cile Beer
(my mind hath looked
upon the speaking face of earth and heaven
as her prime teacher......[Wordsworth])
I saw two butterflies wrapped in silent passion,
Her heart-shaped wings splayed flat against the sill
Her torso throbbing in anticipation...
Himself, hovering gently to hold her still.
I saw their sleek brown bodies tightly pressed,
His feet clinging to her lest the wind
Tear him away. I saw the shadows rest
Around them and the midday sun descend,
And still they lay outside my window pane...
I wondered why it is that we must rush
And why my timid touches are but vain
And useless gestures, why he must always crush
The urgings. Nature’s children seem to know
That love is best when cherished soft and slow
Promises of passion,
my urgings unspoken,
a glamorous gossamer garb.
Sexy, sultry, shameless,
I'm luxurious lace:
enticing and ethereal.
- - - - - - - - - - - -
11 November 2017
Entered in the "Knit Your Fabric" contest, sponsored by Nette Onclaud.
(5th Place)
Hail Mary, full of grace,
the Lord is with you.
The Lord is with me too.
He whispers in loud soothing words
that resonate like
liquid softly fluent.
His watchfulness always lingering
in the pushing of
this steel plated city
where I am trapped.
Hail Mary, full of grace,
the Lord is with you.
The Virgin Queen of Heaven
intercedes for all of us.
She intercedes for me too.
She prays in splendid atmosphere
anguishing over every
sin I am thinking.
Her once-flesh hands twinned in
ever steady prayer.
Shapes populate in my always troubled
daily life.
They upset and tangle the soothing
urgings I feel God placing
in my contemplations.
Hail Mary, full of grace,
the Lord is with you.
The pleasing phasing of spiritual halo's
surrounds me in constant
reassurances.
I'm praying mental rosaries, intoning
words familiar, yet, so loved.
So firm in comfortable places where
I come to God.
This straggling pretence of reality
that we call human-kind;
is not as clear as the affable prayers
of Blessed Mary, my holy Mother.
Standing or sitting does not matter.
Nothing of flesh
ever does.
What is critical are the prayers of
faithful gathered
in presence in Christ's Sacred Mass.
I shall be there too, joining my voice
in time honoured assistance,
"Hail Mary, full of grace,
the Lord is with you."
A displaced soul drifts lackadaisically on a lukewarm tide
Of drugged confusion
Eyes blind and ears plugged with her own bewildered ramblings
She does not know where she floats
Nor how she came to be there
Her mind is a murky haze
A miasma of amnesia born of overwhelming strife
She comprehends only the primal urgings of
Self preservation
The inebriated machinations of her heart & lungs
As they keep her obediently alive
Keep her coasting
Everything else is a fog
A shifting quicksilver illusion, swirling like clouds
Obscuring love & passion & rage
The islands of emotion she needs to reach
The bedrock of comprehension & crucial human instinct
Cruelly they elude her
And still she drifts
Limp spaghetti fingers grasping at straws
At bottles of cheap wine & the soothing firefly
Glow of cigarettes
Caustic chemicals that inject her with false animation
That spur her through the mists towards some kind of
Clarity
Until the cold dawn-spangled hands of sobriety drag
Her back again
A slap of reality right in the face
And yet again there she is
Drifting
A puny twig, swirling on the goliath currents
Of displacement and despair
Swallowed up by cold grey infinity
(Dedication: For Ann, the love of my life, who walks with me smiling. Thank you.)
Opt for a path that observes life's pulse and play,
Deeper and clearer as experience vivid,
Etch a present moment fragment in plain stay.
Sense oneness in all nature speak so candid,
Emotive knowing as beauty now reveals,
Etchings and markings of truth and sheer magic!
Here in this moment watch miracle appeal,
Align heart, mind and body to glimpse fine view,
Image and idea juxtaposed in factual feel.
Keep watching as stillness reveals to you,
Urgings of natural wonder that unveils,
See the world change in a fragment deep within you!
Now moments fling messages to blaze a trail,
Open your heart and mind to embrace belief,
Words only capture a mere fragment unveiled.
Seek to go deep within where silence achieves,
Enter a continuum that whisper hints,
Embrace a journey gift that calmness receives.
Mind and matter and motion and stillness mint,
Encounter a passage where miracles hint!
Leon Enriquez
08 Mar 2014
Singapore
WordScape Triptych #1
Coming from the Underworld as a ghost, just sauntering out of the depths like you did;
With all the rest of us just watching and wondering what you were going to say;
Tell us young Beatrice what shavings you encountered in your intrepid sojourns;
Regale us with splendid tales, and grand dishes with squid meat and fried barnacles;
Intrigue us with your newly-learned dances taught by dead men beneath the grasses.
Manipulate us with your pouting grimaces when sad phrases turn inward the head screws;
Sweet Beatrice, there is no relief or recourse from these exacting heart exercises;
These time-stopping surrenders to the moist touches of absolute skin arousals.
Please lovely Dulcinea, guide us to the far-away stones piled atop the ancient green expanses;
Where screaming armies once pondered mortality amidst the spreading proliferating weeds;
Soothe us with your tender eye gazes which shoot through the airy spaces with calm affinities;
Made immaculate with silent prayers and lifted legs around the shoulders of the nobilities.
Create us for your strange mansions and your strange universes made of chalk, and fingering fears;
These soothing squanderings of doubting time, and the strange splashings of forgetful mercies,
Made manifest with the urgings of the stones, and the apex gods with the sharp plastic crowns;
Please Dulcinea, sing to us with your tenor gyrations made of pickled stardust and squid meat.
And proffer for us, sweet sweet Laura, your lilting songs celebrating the recurring exhalations;
From the lips of bearded nomads coming like leopards across the squared-faced, death vistas;
Expose to us your battle-scarred appendages where bleeding arrows found the stringed lattices;
Reveal to us your arched spinal bridges which flatten and turn with the seeking wind shears;
Gather us, lovely Laura, to your immense home hidden in the spiral ferns for tea and secret games;
Teach us how to be present and aware of the artifices, as rendered woodenly by the blind gropers;
Yes, sweet sweet Laura, we are at your service, but finally, kill us, destroy and annihilate us,
With your slithering clandestine movements behind dripping tombstones in the snoring graveyards.
If ever I should sigh, humor not my sadness,
Lavish upon me not your ready sympathy,
Nor soft urgings to slip hard work’s harness,
Banish for me woes chanted in a tired litany.
The bitter fruit of my failures turns sweet,
For the spirit rises on what defeat has taught,
Lost are the ones whose hearts grow meek,
Let me mourn not the triumphs vainly sought.
When against me Fortune raises its hand,
It’s as a blacksmith’s hammer it should fall,
Each blow hardens me to more blows withstand,
If fate wants me bowed, I shan’t heed its call.
If ever my soul should weary, comfort me not,
Speak only to make of my despair a mockery,
Save your pity, lament the battles not fought,
Rouse me to covet the treasures in life’s lottery.
With tawdry complaints I shall have few flings,
Hardships I’ll laugh at, dreams I will not abort,
Full-throated I will yet sing as I consort with kings,
In the garden of the gods I shall soon cavort!
Gentle Spirit let me hear You.
Let me hear Your tender voice.
Let me feel Your gentle urgings.
Let me not yield to my choice.
Draw Ye ever closer to me.
Let me feel Your presence near.
Holy Spirit Thou art welcome.
Enter in and dwell Thou here.
Give me wisdom, give me courage.
Give me strength my race to run.
Blessed Spirit gently guide me.
Lead me to the Holy One.
When my time on earth is ended,
Let me face it unafraid;
Knowing full well that The Savior,
With His Blood my debts has paid.
So oft I'd heard its soul intent
the performed center, not rebound
could bury once and then compound
the years between, cycle's renown!
Now given over to the Earth
no search or wandering can contain
the final call, summized in worth
and vestige given, subtle gain!
What final makepiece can entail
a journey's fare or life's enslave,
does hold in bondage, fortune's quake
and guesswork yonder not remake!
Conditions squander for the take,
the spirit of coward's, sentiments fake
for counterfeiting sameness sake
relying on its own uptake!
And tears can last beyond the grave
arrangements scattering the poise
a lifelong treasure, so denounce
all moments contrary or brave!
My footsteps falter, not held up
by urgings from all else, so mean
this only once, my saving's cup
respect my feelings with esteem!
Oh, childish pondering, to and fro
so wasted, while the dead lie still,
a life too soon has gone to flow
some spot eternity will fill!
Teenaged girls are rushing to grow up,
The dating game is calling their names,
little do they know, that the game
is filled with sinister twists and turns,
fatal errors that can make a life unfurl,
Nevertheless, thay all want to have first hand
experience, despite all the urgings and resistance,
teenagers feel as if life is passing them by
while they nourish their minds and cultivate their
personalities, if they only knew.....
The best years are filled with innocence and carefree
dalliances.
Standards rejected
by pulpit acceptance
of degradation,
send age old values
spinning and spiraling
open mouthed
into
immorality’s dung heap,
frosted with
the new normal
from godless kitchen.
This putrid dish is
fed into hearts
through entertainment
propaganda machines,
along with urgings,
of public figures,
who say it's okay,
to eat devil's ****!