Centres Poems | Examples

Remembrance

Placed First in Standard Contest
Specular Fugue
Sponsor : Suzette Richards

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watching passivity in activity
sad, sombrely sad
memories from womb rise and fall
little miracles of remembrance 
holding the hands of Fate we wait
Wheels of Fortune revolves, race stagnates
we do not cry, hankerchiefs dry
timeless we watch, clock ticking

clock glancing, mindful of time   
unseen cry, tissues wet lie around  
loss centres, race proceeds 
there is no Fate, only Self-determination
every forgetting is a miracle
uterine amnesia ~ stumbling and ascending 
sombre joy replicates in silence 
active we look away, passive and still

An Open Fire

I miss an open fire.
Warmth, these days, 
is breathed out of the thin lips
of a plastic vent commanded 
by a button.
There is nowhere now 
where I can sit 
and stare into the depths 
of a dancing flame, 
enter that sacred space
where thoughts and mystery 
meet and reconnects something 
in me to its earliest roots. 

I miss how an open fire 
centres life around its glow, 
how it works to draw us in, 
gathers us to share 
in its living warmth. 
I miss how it fills in the silence 
with its sounds,
the crackle, the whispering hiss, 
the sudden bump 
of a falling log.  I miss
poking and prodding 
the charcoal remains, breaking
them apart and seeing embers
ignite into a bright spill of flame.

I miss the smell 
of burning wood, the incense
that first sanctified our ancestors
humble homes and awakened 
a wonder that set us off
on our human quest.
I get it that an open fire is now
not an environmentally friendly
choice but a polluting relic 
of the past. I know 
the romance of it
no longer thrives.
It's rather like old religion,
better gone, but it leaves
a hole in our lives.

Kundalini

In the opaque night across the space of silence, 
enfolding the languid landscape of my existence,
bereft of the beguiled essence in indolent life,
my pathway meanders in the labyrinth of torment.

Trudging at the fringe of trying forbearance,
I hear listless the whispering wind of wisdom 	
tell me, this journey has no meaningful end.
I’m entangled in the nebulous mesh of ambiguity. 

The ill-conceived venture of the errant mind 
finds gloomy dead end in the introspection path.
That’s when the serpentine force opens the innate door,
releasing the feminine energy of yogic awareness.  

My soul shines then with the ethereal radiance
in the infinite depth of the discernment space,
like the flaring brilliance of dormant tantric power,
flashing through the seven chakras of perception. 

In my self-searching spiritual odyssey 
toward the edge of the enlightened eternity,
I perceive the acuity centres configure consciousness
and turn it into living beacon, lighting my inner self.

Zen mode

petal by petal
heart lotus opens
orientation celebratory
there is no one here to discern
meanings our mind tends to assign
for all that is, is but a splash in the ocean
wherein presence savours soma nectar potion
in time dissolved stillness, poised in the void
becoming the flame of awareness itself
transmuting all energy centres within
in a slow motion dance beauteous
so thus we learn as we burn
within body-mind urn

From darkness to light

Truth’s metaphor bemused and confused lost ones,
trapped as yet in labours of thought forms conjured,
thereby failing to cognise flickers in space …
   revealing God’s light.

Breath by breath thus, feeling not God’s magnetism,
living by instinct, higher centres dormant,
darkness deepened, engulfing bleeding aura …
   ego blamed on fate.

Love’s touch tender stirred the soul, freezing thought flow,
causing ego to recede, enlivening
heart, whence divine bliss mists rose, transmuting form …
   into living light.

Zen mode

energised palms
whirring third eye
enlivened spine
tingling soles
the Bindu point
and open fontanel 
orbits toroidal heart
as the energy grid
hums with power
graced by spirit

all centres in unison
echo bliss pulsations
signalling cooperation
in the dance divine

The birth of chaos has begun

The alienation that leads to human tragedy 
it centres around the irreverence shown towards the truth 
Nothingness has this strange way of manipulating something 
Take for arguments sake can a liar become truthful 
or bad in sinful manners become good and serving faith
murder is considered an act of kindness getting rid of burdens 
What way do we model this insecurity to be addressed 
forgiveness is considered the weak minded's choice 
to barter they say what right have you to judge yourself worthy or a better person for that matter 
The altered facts underneath transparency can be seen as the guilty ego gutted with this twisted speech
has now shaped those lacking soul purpose 
Cold heart's will always see negative promoting hell 
some beings they lack any source of moral stability
 to be truthful 
put a snake in a suit and it certainly will wriggle out of it

Path strewn with rose petals

Strobes of light emanating from our heart,
brings to life energy centres in form
and with each breath we feel ignition start,
erasing delusion in this bliss storm.

Over time we dissolve to so become,
the vital essence of magnetic beats
and as the emanation of God’s hum,
we delight in love’s refrain that repeats.

With fortitude in mindful quietude,
choosing to dwell in the vast, vibrant void,
we grant not ego cravings latitude,
that we reclaim light of Self unalloyed.

Recognising light as our quintessence,
we enrich soul with God’s loving essence.

Small pleasures

Small pleasures, with love partaken 
The way entwined hearts pair
Our higher centres awaken
Making soul self-aware

By feeling not thinking
Head-heart with love linking
Attain bliss unblinking 

Life’s treasures
Small pleasures

Politics today

On Jerusalem's  shinning spectre
London wastes away
On bus Non speaking Englishman
in England's fair open land
The border centres have a heavy load
from your tired, tireless migrants
Tent cities erected in West End
human capital indivisiblely wasted
Crisis queues at A and E
14 years of  Tory waste
The Bird of prey
on England's blight
Give Labour a chance
invest in peoples power
stop unequal development up North

A call to Earth

In shopping centres, bright and wide,
Where our dreams can fly and glide,
We wrap our hearts in things we've bought,
Forgetting stars, by city lights caught.

Yet, whispers of change might find their way,
As people stand up, by the ocean's spray.
Our Earth, they say, is worth more than play,
A future where green and blue can stay.

We must think over, our habits laid out,
With seas of plastic, and skies of doubt.
It's in our actions, clear and stout,
To choose to live, to truly shout.

To save our home, we should all band,
From dawn's light to night's last stand.
It's up to us, to lend a hand,
A fight for right, across the land.

But history's glance, so sharp and keen,
Will judge what we might have been.
In future's tale, it would be seen,
Our legacy, like a lost green dream.

Yet, it must have been right in our clasp,
To mend the breaks, to free the grasp.
And we could have chosen a kinder path,
For Earth, a haven, not aftermath.

Beware

I know its Spring but it can still be cold at night
so hold on putting things into your garden yet. 
The ideal time to plant things out is at the end of April
anything planted before then runs the risk of frost.

Garden centres sell plants much too early
these plants need to be nurtured indoors
They need to harden off before going out
place them out in the sun and bring in at night

Don't spend your money it will be wasted
you will have to buy new plants to replace them
same goes for baskets don't put them out 
frosts can appear until May so save your money.

Not Hopping

Not Hopping
Some trainers in the BPO industry
Have worked in 20 or 30 different places
Brian met 2 or more such trainers
Both had worked in dozens of centres
Between a month’s training and years
Finally settling down to train others
Being Hoppers no more job to job
Instilling their skills info knowledge
With wisdom guidance mind set
It takes skill to be a trainer
And something else to excel
Getting the next generation ready
Reps support trainers OMs

Always

Always
There are those who are always humble
And those are arrogant and full of 
Who work in the call centres
They are agents or bosses
Each has their own agenda
Either good or bad ever indifferent
Which one are you
Who do you aspire to be?

An honest rep or scoundrel
Brian didn't care for money
He cared for success
For success had a sweet taste
Brian knew what was what
And what he had to do
He was one of the quiet ones
Simply doing his job
Are you like this?

Quite An Experience

Quite An Experience
They said the Philippines and Thailand
We're both Third World countries
Yet the glittering business centres
In Manila and Bangkok were superb
Among the world's finest in design
Bringing in top revenue
Employing the best minds 
Pushing what was possible
Brian worked in both cities 
In his six years and counting
He was quietly proud of his career
Always doing his best getting average scores
Sometimes the highest never low
Except in the early days
When he was a new cherry
A German in Asia doing a new job
He came here for a gal	
Long long ago it went from there
Flitting between countries working
Not on holiday or chilling out
Using 21st century systems
Taught by committed trainers
In time becoming a good rep
Aged in his forties and fifties
Keeping up with agents
Half his age in work and drinking
In a million years when
Brian died he would look back
And think was all that real
It was quite an experience

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