Best Whence Poems
From whence do poems come?
Some say--
they're children of the heart,
others say--
they're born in the mind's maze
but I say--
poems come from deeper
than any heart
and from somewhere
far more vast
than any mind....
I suspect they come
from that part of us
that lies under
the unconscious,
so quiet, so subtle
many never sense it--
but there, in the soul
(the endless mind,
the imperishable self)
are found the words
to percolate through
the blind and dense
unconscious to appear
sudden,
unbidden,
unexpected
in the daylight mind....
But their journey is still
only half-done:
when read by a stranger
those poems transcend
disparate worlds,
making their return journey
from a daylight mind
through the unlit unconscious
until the reader's own soul
feels brushed by Wonder...
yet from where
do the poems come?
They come from Eternity.
WHENCE WISDOM
Sins of youth, are not rare, I confess to many as mine
Include brazen claim we knew more than last generation
We may come to see our error with passing time
Or press on with obstinate determination
Demagogues have used this trend to push their intention
Seduced young with promised Utopian innovation
These are willing recruits to the myths of state ascension
Though communes brought hunger and death to many a nation
Let us observe to observe and learn from past history
Use experience and reason deciding which way we go
Grant to each their own diverse choices, allow them to be
That could be a greater gift that we might bestow
While at any age, we may merit such epithet
Subject: OLD should not precede ‘FOOL’ as the blind predicate
It’s October, we find time to go by the spring-house to get the tulips. It is time to prepare for winter and the inevitable coming of spring. The bulbs look hopelessly dead and ugly, rather pitiful in fact. We nurture them tenderly.
fall gardener
tucks the bulbs in bed
till spring's alarm.
Through many snows and chilling temperatures, we do not consider at all what is taking place under the ground. One warm March day we see tiny noses poking up through the soil around the back porch. By April, we are sitting in the swing admiring the result of loving labor of last fall.
seeing the blooms
brings to mind
dried-up bulbs
How could such ugliness have turned to such beauty in the cold, hard earth? As May approaches bringing other flowers, our short-lived tulips drop their blossoms and say good-bye. But as we've discovered, the wisest of gardeners do not hasten to bother the beauty in its passing.
dust to dust
all blossoms shrivel
with time
food for the soil
wilting leaves nourish the bulb
hidden in the ground
The bulb remains unattractive throughout the whole cycle of growth. Along in mid-July when all external signs of life have faded, we remove the unsightly bulbs from their bed, putting them back in the spring-house until fall. Without them, there will be no blossoms next spring. It is the care we show the bulb which bursts into the beauty we bless in time.
entry for contest: Carlton D. Kennedy's Love of Nature
Alive in me,
A crystal sea.
A growing tree,
It needs to be.
Incased in flesh,
A Spirit's breath,
A vine, a mesh,
Past time or death.
Words flow,
I know sometimes,
They're mine...
Others though seem
So sublime.
Where do the springs
Of poems flow from?
A universe of awesome things?
They flow, they fly
As if on wings.
Words wake us,
Take us,
Lift us up,
They pour out
Onto paper cup.
We drink them in,
We sing a hymn.
We sink, we fly,
To depths or high.
A poet's life,
Through joy or strife,
Poured out to see,
Complexity.
Let the seeds grow,
Sow and plant.
A joyous song,
A tear, or rant.
The living ink well,
flows through a pen,
It ebbs or swells
In us again.
We're going back from whence we came
Answering her ancient call
It's almost as if she whispers our name
That she knows and owns us all
Salt in the blood still proves the link
Urging hearts to soar, brains to think
Salt in the blood
Salt in the blood
We admire her with breath and ink
We're going back from whence we came
She beckons us there, somehow
Leaving only questions, no trace of blame
Does she wonder at my clammy brow?
Salt in our sweat as we work and play
She watches o'er us night and day
Salt in our sweat
Salt in our sweat
We hear her calling and we obey
We're going back from whence we came
When we sail or watch her wave
She's our greatest mother and a grand old dame
Revered by the shellbacks brave
Salt in our tears when the world gets rough
She's there to listen when life is tough
Salt in our tears
Salt in our tears
Always there, mothering, just enough
So sung on, sung along,
Whence we carried the sun,
And miss the moon till noon,
No breakfast is cold.
Nothing is really old.
Everything is fairly new.
The present time being the only being there is.
Whence, whence...
We are at that place.
Whence Love Came
A raindrop falls,
As her tears fell,
Her heart recalls,
What she cannot tell.
Thoughts of the years,
Seem almost wasted,
But her heart endears,
The love she has tasted.
She reaches out,
To no avail,
Doing without,
But wanting to bail.
Did he love me,
Questions crusted?
Why didn't she see,
The man she had trusted?
A new life to begin,
A suspicious heart,
But a new love within,
Hoping never to part.
She needs this love,
Without hesitation,
To come from above,
True love from Eden.
Whence love came.
1-06-2009
From whence doth evil come?
It erupts from the twisted bowels of hell
it roams and wanders, recklessly
throughout the landscape of the earth
creating moral chaos and hatred
blinding the eyes of godless men.
It captures cold hearts, hearts of stone
devoid of emotion, unstable minds
delusional and corrupt, lifeless
minds that become a breeding ground
for the schemes of the devil.
Wicked thoughts and dastardly deeds
ruminate and fester and quickly culminate
intent on carrying out an open grave
of disaster and destruction.
Evil looms, then strikes in an instant
a lone young man, creeping slyly into a school
slaying young innocents with his guns
a bloodbath of hatred, poison among the lilies.
Over and over again, too many times!
A crime and a shame, blight of madness!
No more should evil overtake the land
No more should a young life be snuffed out
Let the innocent ones have their tomorrows!
May the people rise up against this evil
this wicked spirit that destroys us
and take charge, demand a change
fight the enemy with petitions and prayer
and return our land to safety and peace again.
Written on 2/19/2018
‘ Whence Day Touches Night … ’ ( Metaphysical Poem # 5 )
Does Not Day … Touch Night
At One Instance of Time ? …
When Setting Sun … On The Horizon
Draped in Robust Pinks and Orange-Golden Capes
of Flowing Attire … Gently Retires
from Stage … and Engage, One, Last, Glowing Smile …
which Close 'Act One' and Cause … Applause
from Rows, Upon Rows
of Verdant Mounds, and then Bows
Half-to-Sacred-Ground … Half-to-Sanctioned-Crowds
… So, The Day Withdraws, with what We Saw
in Theatrical-Display … Threw One Last, Soft-Kissed-Sunray
in a Humble Gesture … of Divesture …
… and then God Be Praised! … Day doth’ Raised
It’s Fingers of Fire … to Admire the Purple Haze
And Indigo Hues … like Oncoming, Enveloping, Opaque Pews …
a Prelude to Darkened Glory … as Black as a Pitch Curtain – Oratory
and Us … as Observatory – Standing-Ovations
Spectators, to this Tapestry of Mastery
… Relieved Only by Moon-Cast-Light
and Thespian Star-Rings Bright …
Upstaging The Day, and All It’s Props For Height
Which had Performed With All It’s Might …
So, that We Remember … in Our Low-Sky-Sight
Whence One Instance of Time … Day Touched Night …
In regards to contemplating life
What do you yourself think you will see
Flash before your very own eyes
Supposedly if what they say is true
That what actually happens and you see
Just before you are about to die
Personally just for me
I hope and pray and trust
It certainly isn't or will be
The color of money
Or any of the faces or heads
That have ever appeared on them
As I cannot miss what I never had
Or placed no actual real true value in
Otherwise I might as well have
Never have been here
Or been alive in the
" 1st place "
As I have gained nothing of worth
Over my entire lifetime here
To take with me
Or memories to leave behind me
And therefore also should in real terms
Not nor never be
Missed
As after all what on earth did I or my life
In actuality really stand for
If all I actually loved and truly cared about was
Money
As money can't buy me love
When I eventually died
And was medically pronounced dead
What remained of my body after I was dead
Had to be disposed of eventually
Cremation and burial being the only real
2 currently viable available options
The only other 1 choice was
The ceremony of ones in particular
Chosen own religious denomination
But because I am not a Christian
There will not be a priest performing
or giving me my last rights and consequently
therefore I will not go to heaven
And because I am not a Muslim
Paradise and 40 odd virgins likewise are
not waiting or in my future either
And because I am also not Jewish either
I am not going and am going to meet
or be welcomed by there God either
And so too goes for the Devil himself
as well be didn't even bother to
R.S.V.P
And as a non believer I also myself
Therefore also should expect and
believe that is no more or no less I
should deserve nor come to expect
Which in effect actually just reaffirmed
my faith and belief in death and I am
totally okay and alright and onboard with
The fact that when I am dead I am going
absolutely nowhere and neither is anyone
waiting to welcome or greet me there either
Last night Rose won the
2021 Final of BBC
Strictly Come Dancing
Please do yourself a favor if you
possibly can and watch her winning
Dance where the Music Stops
And tell me your faith in mankind
and humanity is in some small way not restored
***************************
Once upon a time
A miracle of such magnitude occurs
that all the world's tomorrow will never
be the same from that magical moment
hence
Unto the most beautiful , precious little
deaf girl called Rose and so to the rest
of the world as well
As you see she danced and danced with
such deftly joyous pleasure and zeal
Not a single note of music could be heard
above the tears
As she herself rose and rose and rose
Until she rose to such dizzy drunken heights
She could eventually be seen as she had
always prayed and had wished to be seen
As merely simply a girl after all like
any or all the other girl's
Never did she knowingly realize she
was in fact by far so , so much better
She was in reality the real Cinderella
whom the fairytale foretold all of us
1 day indeed would not only get to
dance at the ball
But be the Belle of all our heart's
God Bless you Rose
I shall go hence
back whence I sprung
to shed, disgorge, eviscerate
all that I have ever known
all that I have ever learned
all that I am
all that is me, I be.
A full hard refresh
to be what I could be
untainted, smirched
unbiased, neutered.
Hence to whence
and thence I be,
freely
impotent.
What can presence possibly write about,
except bliss that enlivens feeble form,
caress sublime, that erases all doubt,
engulfing heart in love’s magnetism warm?
Transcending fear, we plunge into the storm,
one with the universe, penning a verse,
of soul’s vibrance, with no need to rehearse.
.
i had thuh one
Such hern
she
Kiss'd mine lips
Pled uv me
oh did
she
Ink by thuh inch
Az hern frenetic mitt's
Digits
Stir’d
mine see’z think
mine imagine
vanish’d
unto whut
y'all
uv my
spill'd
read
tap
*yourn: 1350–1400; Middle English, equivalent to,
your + -n, as in mine 1
(i uv course)
')