Channeled Poems | Examples

Music

Even though sad,
And off the edge.
My pain channeled.
My mind paused.
Became an irresistible muse.
Music of angels drove me.
I found myself with a rare elixir in my hand.
I was high on your words as dreamt of your kind touch.

Muse

Even though sad,
My pain channeled.
Became an irresistible muse.
I found myself with a rare elixir in my hand.

Discovering Light

Discovering Light 

Cry Ugly shame lost its power

Shame was regret…

Buying into malicious judgment I wasn't good enough…

He knew I was more than good enough… I gave all I was capable of… 

He loved me because I gave 100%… even when my 100% fell short 

He channeled his disappointment and hope through his poetry. 

Discovery emerged reading his heirloom book… regret quickly segued into shame.

Shame perfected as a child… stepping stones used to set my foundation 

Decades devoted to unraveling the source… reflected in the dark strands of thread woven in my tapestry 

Oblivious of the light, silver and gold spun adjacent to and translucent overlay… changing the tapestry's initial designation.


Sherry Barton 
April 13,

Issue, Iridescence

Issue, O Iridescence!
Luminesce on the sly.
Pore over, phosphorescence?
Oh yes, and here is why!

Students of the nebula!
Empire has its cost!
Best to keep it regular?
That or deal of Faust!

Sauced, are ye, wild warriors?
Well, at times it's best.
Lost and sinking? Sail azures!
Tours and boors need rest.

Zest, O mighty zephyr!
Boreal pole, hear all!
Have you seen the lost heifer?
My! Io, give a call...

Fall, when winter, taciturn;
Sends the snow and ice;
Sullen, silent, spares to spurn;
Miracled device;

What will avail travelers?
High road, one with us?
Gods of death, synthetic furs?
Bile and blunderbuss!

Muss on heads of wearied folk?
That is not good news.
O for eggs with scrambled yolk!
Doom, Death, disabuse...

Channeled communications?
Be sure to precise read.
Otherwise re-educations!
Draw bead, O my greed!

Weed atop the giant's mound?
Zero Lost and Found?
O ye serpents, hissing sound?
Next below the ground...

Warning? Dark fire, warming?
O locusts on the air:
Sudden is thy swarming?
Life, ladies, is not fair...

Henry Dresses in Drag to Paint Like Grandma

Henry was not a good painter at all
Until he channeled his Grandmother Gall
She made him dress in an imaginative way
Wearing her clothes and a hairbow gray

Henry’s paintings were suddenly very good
He began wearing Grandma’s sweatshirt and hood
So much better! His spirit guide said, guiding his hand.
He painted great but was the laugh of the land.

For people in a small town rarely get away
With dressing in drag for an hour, let alone a day
But Henry was dressing in gowns and aprons too
For his paintings were now selling as fast as his brushes flew.

Resurrected Rhapsody

flow of awareness
intuitively intrinsic 
                 channeled 
through tunneled time
                 navigates 
cognitive impulses
      basic 
incessant surge
      of 
enveloping waves
of enlightenment
     through 
timeless portals
of perception
     reflective
opens up  
floodgates of 
                 bliss


pulse of time 
vibrates 
     in 
inner space
                infinite
psychic frequency
                resonant        
tuned precisely 
     in 
halcyon harmony 
with intonation   
of eternity
                 transitions 
    from 
one manifestation 
to another
                 modulated 
by edified touch 
     of 
sanctified soul
                  illumined

life force
                 invincible
abhors vacuum 
                 pervasive
propels the essence 
of existence 
       through 
elusive emptiness
filled fervently
       with
resurrected rhapsody
                  innate

Channeling Seuss

Oh, the things we might write if we all channeled Seuss:
like streams of Foie Gras through a cannibal goose!
Even masters might gain, yes even the bard.
Cuz you’ve got to admit it: that blank verse is hard.
And thank goodness this doc was a Seuss, not a Geisel,
or our poems would struggle to include a weasel. 
Yes, it’s so much more fun to bid you a good day
in a playfully, lyrical, Seussian way!

holding my Ticonderoga

a pencil in my hand does a happy dance
plain and unplanned, my thoughts in a trance
I watch the markings, wondering what they are about
when I see the words forming, I give a tiny shout

why does my pencil always know before me
what my mind is doing, all fearless and free?
these words were channeled from beyond the veil
from Coleridge or Poe, I turn a ghastly pale

the pencil does not hesitate, she knows what she’s about
I follow along fiercely, not about to anger or pout
for my Ticonderoga knows how to write a poem every day.
I am not going to hold her back or stifle her in any way.

Angel

An angel of God with the face of a wolf 
The honesty of a man with fear closed in on himself 
They flap their wings hard against the wind 
And above all there is love, that strong, strong love 
who refuses to die, even at the gates of heaven. 
My heart starts pounding,    
I see you without shame, without restraint
Here the most beautiful roses grow,  
in this garden of peace and health 
where the scent of God, drives me crazy.  
And unfortunately, I left the most beautiful Rose on earth 
but her roots are so deep, that I can count on her, to live.
You tell them for me, I didn't go very far,
I'm here, right next to them.  
I'm in the air they breathe, and to my children, 
tell them that I love them, with a strong love.  
And life goes on without me ...
Don't cry, because there's so much sun here, 
and lots and lots of flowers to collect.   



*This poem is in memory of my brother in law Angelo 
who past away recently, he channeled the words 
for his family and friend, please keep the family 
in your prayers, during this difficult time.

Draw Add Wet View

   Blossoms line my laden descent 
down to the perked watering hole 
that plays empty theater, 
awaiting my creative path, 
a royal welcome -
represented by accumed variety and presumed clarity, 
of intentional therapy of renewed sensable youth. 

Periscope complicity is channeled by heart's stereoscopicity, 
Dryad/Satyr Satire, no dry ads, only wet views.

Season facets a wild cherry scent to your vantage point 
of attitude and beauty proximity, of dripping cues.

Draw the liquid curtain on the canvas 
of insanely intimate hues.
To a crash on the rocks of the mind-blown 
by windswept rescue chasing you behind a messaged massage, 
Baywatch, Oasissed Dunes and slow Djin mirage.
Nature is no stranger to being the muse, 
Rebel with a cause,
cause maybe this time you stay 
and snuggle awhile, sailor.

I Speak For the Dead

Note: This poem is the twin poem for "She Speaks for the Dead." This one is in the mockingbird's perspective. 



I perch upon the locked gate,
awaiting the deepest hour of night. 
My abode is among the shadows 
of the gravestones, still and weathered. 

There I hear a faint sound of
bare feet along the grass,
And I see a Woman near the cypress tree.
She is frail and clad in robes—
She looks at peace with the world, and with Death. 

But the Woman stops as if she is waiting for something, 
listening for something in the stillness. 
Could it be my own voice that She is 
calmly awaiting? Some trills of 
Truth to break Their silence? 

I feel a change in the air
as the shadows deepen on the headstones, 
the monuments, the cypresses, the gate.
I begin to speak for Them 
and that Woman with the gleaming 
yet respite eyes 

I begin to speak for Her.

My channeled chirps are 
variations of lives once lived, 
and my growing audience is vastly keen.

Channeled Words Of Love

Come to me child of light and speak to me in words 
that only the soul can speak 
Loose the ribbons of your heart and fly
held fast to the links of the mind 
no child of mine can reach Nirvana 
nor learn to speak the language of Angels and Saints
unless they come to me as a child: 
 
Come to me child of love and enter into 
be the vessel that carries my truth 
upon the waves of your spirit, the calm shall arrive 
as you chant, let your heart be brave child 
OM SAI RAM SAI RAM OM SAI 
Translation: Oh my Lord, as in the breath of my life 
my savior from all ills, omnipresent, happiness incarnate, 
YOU who is omniscient and the origin and God of all 
Universe !

Channeled Waves

I tune in to the channel coming forth & then
present what's coming through
A train of thoughts move like locomotives only
stopping for a few
From the ethers they descend like falling rain
precipitating flow from the sky
When they come all are drenched in declarations 
bathing in the waters of divine
Surfing the annals of the mind can cause historical
waves to erect
Tsunamis destroy paradigms in a flash before
proceeding to redirect
By many it's seen as a disaster but viewed as a 
blessing by a few
Sometimes we have to destroy to rebuild again &
make room for the new
Your ships may be docked for a spell but will sail
again when weather breaks
The will can be an unstoppable force to behold
moving like a train without its brakes
It's wet after clouds formed & quickly passed bringing
out the sun after the rain
Tears fell from the heavens to what's below washing
away the dirt & the pain
The eye in the sky sees all in one take illuminating
what's low from a higher place
Open channels flow with higher purpose seeking their
level & making waves in another space

Nothingness Niche

Intrinsic awareness,
sensuous stream
in the vale of time, 
channeled challenged
through mind’s myriad 
angularities accentuated,
carries in coherent current
ceaselessly, 
the cognitive impulses
criticality conjured,
surging swathing waves 
of enlightenment
across formless emptiness 
of amorphous perception.

The pulse of time 
vibrates with perpetuity
in inner space, 
intuitively infinite,
the cadence in harmony 
with the intonation 
of eternity,
the manifested 
timeless transition 
from one phase 
to another
in continuum,
modulated mystically 
by stimulus shimmer 
of the illumined soul.

The life force 
ostensibly obscure,
abhors vacuum, 
persistence pervasive 
propels the essence 
of the existent 
in nothingness niche.

strings -

quiver …

of ALL -
open, closed, one dimensional
vibrating tendrils …
larger scales appear as the particle norm
antiphon??
charge, mass, gravitons
hot-affecting quantum states of matter
super-symmetry between bosons
fermions …
such weighty throb -
chaotic fields connected
influenced
shaken …
but still not clearly defined in all events -
not channeled to unification
but it MUST join
somehow ...
it's there, trembling like a horror -
an electromagnetic phantom
one of the weakest forces in all of the
physical universe
yet ...
far beyond grasp
our claws raking deep the flesh of wonder
fiery glyphs raised
but in excruciating futility …
one day we'll laugh at its simplicity
and that day ...
God.
will.

weep.







Copyright © Gregory Richard Barden, July 14, 2019; rewrite December 15, 2023

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