caged in form, memory erased
constrained by a fragmented mind
sensory inputs leave us dazed
to light of Self within heart blind
scriptures cajole us to explore
truth of being and so awake
by being still, making heart pure
lust and fear choosing to forsake
with head and heart poised in balance
viewing life like a lucid dream
mood and mode vibrant nonchalance
we sing a song on love’s moonbeam
in timeless time, ego recedes
we dwell in the eternal now
through our hands God performs His deeds
with each heartbeat in joy we bow
with thoughts rested, time too slows down
we recognise space is a veil
at peace within, in bliss we drown
soma nectar our preferred ale
in as ordained, our ego drops
the dead leaf falls off from the tree
the universe fades and time stops
revealing our Self, at last free
living light, shaped like a heartbeat
is who we are, outside space-time
self-existent, feeling complete
in peace it renews heart’s love chime
holy scriptures point out the way
prompting us to metamorphose
that we may see God, clear as day
whilst resting in blissful repose
Kill the Boer, kill the farmer
A song sung in a stadium by thousands
Reverberating a chorus of spine-chilling fear
A call to incite hatred and violence
Tomorrow, we mourn - another farmer
Umshini wami (my machine gun)
Paralysing fear runs through your soul
To wipe out the Boer and the farmer
A call to genocide, they cajole
Rat-a-tat, see how they run
There is no defence against this genocide
You must die, self-defence is a crime
Hundreds and thousands of crosses, erected
For the innocent these numbers climb
The Boer and Farmer in death abide.
my dear, let's stroll
barefoot ...we laugh 'midst jeweled night
my dear, let's stroll...
old stars envious. they cajole--
Maytime taps our feet, to delight
tender the waves, nuptials in sight
my dear, let's stroll...
First Place
I am a merry me frisky fey a tiny man bragged to me
Please join me at my explosive enjoyable revelry
A jollity in his overzealous ambiance was brighter than I had ever seen
Magical merriment and meshugga craziness was about to convene
Are you a leprechaun? I asked the adorable trickster, right away
Name’s McCindlesticks and I’m Celtic Irish, all the ever-loving day
That was good enough for me, being the daughter of a McCormick.
I am a bit Irish myself, and not easy to fool, cajole or trick.
As darkness falls without, it also falls within;
where listless slumber slowly takes me by the hand,
leads me to a place where I relive every sin
while Lilith does foretell what fate for me is planned.
The darkness not yet deep enough for me to drown
the fading light not bright enough to shine the way;
I fear the rabid laughing of the coming clown
as he performs his ghastly, nightly cabaret.
Old Harlequin will dance and whisper in my ear
and tell of all dark things that lurk within my soul;
for these, not those without, he knows, are what we fear.
Come here, my dear, abide with me, he will cajole.
Then, as he ventures forth to give his foul-breathed kiss,
unkindness host of ravens swoop, take out my eyes;
then, slowly I dissolve to silence, darkness, bliss;
another night, I have denied the devil's prize.
Eight Words 2 Poetry Contest - Joseph May
Lilacs, Weary, Misty, Guitar, Cajole, Sigh, Slumber, Etching
-------------------------------------------------
Quote: “A man sees in the world what he carries in his heart.”
- Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
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One such spring, away from his muse
WEARY night, jaded SLUMBER blues
every other color looked grey
every other flower looked hay
betrayal sadness choked like noose
his MISTY eyes tried to confuse
his heart stabbed with brutal refuse
a tear not shed that heartless day
one such spring day
wasted, he sat under the spruce
LILACS blooms had such little use
to CAJOLE him to GUITAR play
he tried ETCHING letters away
softly sighed a SIGH of excuse
one such spring day
Eight Words 2 Poetry Contest
Sponsor-Joseph May
As the land danced to the moon
An artist took her hand in his
As he primed LILAC skies of June
His MISTY lover hung on this
The SLUMBER of paint rising fast
As the land danced to the moon
The WEARY artist had a blast
To the landscape's ETCHING he swoon
He paced with her and played her tune
On his canvas a lover springs
As the land danced to the moon
His brushes rock, like GUITAR strings
Though he tried to CAJOLE a tryst
She escaped his picture and croon
With a SIGH his paints drain this twist
As the land danced to the moon
Relaxing idle mood at evening,
playing a sad tune on GUITAR.
Scent of LILACS flowing in Spring.
Butterflies sleep, sipping nectar.
On sundown encompassing dusk.
Relaxing idle mood at evening.
Eve merging night with MISTY mask.
Birds back to nest with WEARY wings.
Without you , life finds no meaning.
You are to CAJOLE steps of mine.
Relaxing idle mood at evening.
Moon wakes from SLUMBER, now to shine.
Reminiscing your touch, I SIGH.
On vase , your name I am ETCHING.
Praying your closeness to be nigh.
Relaxing idle mood at evening.
Inside fortress* that offers rest
my weary soul breathes out blest sigh
lulled to slumber midst noisy pest
while to the Saviour I draw nigh
My heart welcomes music of hope
inside fortress that offers rest
as misty eyes serenely cope
with guitar strums reaching love’s crest.
Etching my mind with winning zest
Word of God prods me to fight pain
inside fortress that offers rest
smiting doubt’s cajole --- by faith’s gain.
Now, I’ll soar for triumphant flight
since revived, warmed in prayer nest
as lilacs waft courageous plight
inside fortress that offers rest.
*Psalms 18:2 The LORD is my rock, and my fortress, and my deliverer; my God, my strength, in whom I will trust; my buckler, and the horn of my salvation, and my high tower.
August 17, 2024
1st place, "Eight Words 2" Poetry Writing Contest
Sponsored by Joseph May; judged on 8/27/2024
So, I'm now fine with misty eyes,
Right from my slumber my heart cries,
With my weary face full of fears,
I still played guitar to my dears,
their smiles made me sigh in disguise.
My moans cajole grief to revise,
Etching joy to place me on highs;
oils of lilacs restored my cheers,
So, I'm now fine.
My newfound joy is a surprise,
Just last night, it waved me goodbyes,
Leaving me with eyes full of tears,
That couldn't be dried by my peers;
meaning if I fall, I can rise.
So, I'm now fine.
In misty dawn, where lilac blooms croon,
Weary heart strums a bluesy tune,
To cajole the sun to day-spring,
From its dream-time, and join and sing,
To lift dark's slumber veil and swoon.
Etching sun-beams through the dank dune,
Guitar player and sun attune
The dawn is lifted from mist's cling,
In the dawn expectant.
With a sigh of relief the moon
Lifts the pall of the night's cocoon.
Propelling light, the sun will bring,
To end to the glum soul's aching,
For the warmth known to come at noon.
In the dawn expectant.
In still the night, the beaks slumber.
The weary wings, of great number,
In lightest twitch, upon the dark
Etching on oak, wait for dawn’s hark.
In common sleep - sigh encumber.
The scented air, lilacs cumber
With bluebird-lull, silent slumber.
No need to coax the dormant bark,
In still the night.
Quickly, stars found in low number.
Red guitar pick awakes slumber.
Birds nestle under branches’ ark.
A cloudy mist sets off a spark.
Storm’s cajole - raindrops outnumber,
In still the night.
As I sat under moonlit sky,
playing GUITAR Grandpa gave me
taught me to play, I was knee-high
I feel him close strumming these strings.
Remembering his voice clearly
as I sat under moonlight sky.
His love filled me, I sang with glee,
he adored LILACS and peach pie.
ETCHING 'song' to my heart, I SIGH,
tears flow as I think of that time.
As I sat under moonlight sky,
CAJOLE memories in my prime.
I get MISTY-eyed about him,
He was WEARY, the end was nigh.
SLUMBER came quickly to rare gem,
as I sat under moonlit sky.
08/15/2024
Sunrise on Swift Creek starts a new day
The sun is etching magenta 'pon a misty sky
And fog settling low 'pon the ground will stay
Changing in the sky a red giant ball shows its dye
I wonder if old saying will come true and I sigh
Mankind hasn't made much of an arising yet
Down where lilacs once bloomed in years gone by
But doves awaken from slumber still sing my pet
They cajole weary whip-poor-will where sun and earth edify
To settle in the brush and quietly lie
Down where fuchsia crepe myrtle blooms are open
Enjoying the heat of end of a summer's day
There's beauty against even the coyotes' den
As turmoil goes on, guitar music stops, places decay
Dear Lord, let me praise You, and constantly pray
When lilacs with the springtime rise
and weary hordes no longer slumber,
music from God's own guitar now flies
to cajole the misty earthen number;
begin etching the kaleidoscope of summer.
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