I find myself seated within a chest of angel fare,
I see the cherubims fluttering around merrily,
I experience, each moment, an unknown tender care;
A cavern of calmness engulfs me voluntarily...!
I feel as light as the aromatic zephyr with cense,
I go through the feeling of love flame merging with stillness;
No fears, like a child in the mother's arms, with trust immense,
Not upset over birth or death or wellness or illness...!
No avarice nor anger nor anguish, whatsoever,
Conscience and consciousness in heavenly culmination;
Awareness of enlightenment becomes an endeavor,
Transcending all temporalities I gain salvation...!
Grave or crematorium does not matter anymore,
Existentially, I've already reached the other shore ...!!!
Categories:
cense, faith, hope, life, trust,
Form: Sonnet
If there were a tomb to hold my thoughts alone
where only those who seek it, meditate,
guffaws would echo on the heavenly green;
ideas will not live beyond their youth
unless they catch the glint of steel beneath
the torch of battle. So
let now be the arena for my wars,
my intellect, my flooding heart to charge
at enemies who rise today
but cannot raise the dust of my posterity.
This very hour I choose to fight
amid the phalanx of the white-robed clan.
No! It is a field of bloodless strife
where victors search beside themselves--
for ripening flaws to extricate,
for keys to open doors
that never should have closed,
and for regrets that festered, unexposed.
Then as a spirit leaves its body to embrace
an unknown paradise,
down at the end of that long corridor
a dying candle flame blinks twice
and gives its rising smoke
to cense the larks above.
~
Categories:
cense, death,
Form: Free verse
To have a poetic li-cense
There can be no charge-since
This kind of license can not be reprieved, nor received.
It is a license that can only be achieved.
This license is something you won't need to show.
A true poetic license like ours Has it own distinctive glow :)
Categories:
cense, poems, poetry, poets,
Form: Rhyme
If there were a tomb to hold my thoughts alone
where only those who seek it, meditate,
guffaws would echo on the heavenly green;
ideas will not live beyond their youth
unless they catch the glint of steel beneath
the torch of battle. So
let now be the arena for my wars,
my intellect, my flooding heart to charge
at enemies who rise today
but cannot raise the dust of my posterity.
This very hour I choose to fight
amid the phalanx of the white-robed clan.
It is a field of bloodless strife
where victors search beside themselves
for ripening flaws to extricate,
for keys to open doors
that never should have closed,
and for regrets that festered, unexposed.
Then as a spirit leaves its body to embrace
an unknown paradise,
down at the end of that long corridor
a dying candle flame blinks twice
and gives its rising smoke
to cense the larks above.
~
Categories:
cense, allegory,
Form: Free verse