Cloaking Poems | Examples

To Know The Truth

Does life to anyone really make sense?
Or is all of mankind, really this dense?
God offers his wisdom and truth to man,
Yet it still seems we seldom understand.

Are we blinded by reason, and logic?
Surely, it’s not genes or biologic?
While meditating on things I don’t know,
It came to me; the culprit is ego.

Its goal is to always self-edify,
Secretly cloaking what’s seen with the eye.
The illusion creates a false belief,
The deception ends up, leading to grief.

To receive God’s truth, just look through his eyes,
To know the truth, just reject ego’s lies.

When Even the Pen Can't Heal

I place my pen so painfully on the page
Ink stains so sinister
Too dark for the heart to feel over again
   And over again
       And again
I feel my heart launch inside my throat
Choking me
Breath which used to come to easily
Thoughts once produced so placidly 
So readily 
Fade suddenly
Fog sets in
Cloaking the terror for a moment
Momentarily I detach
   Again 
It seems the pen must wait
   Again
Patience must abound for again to have its chance to shine

crows

crows caw, 
    cloaking catacombs~ 
      beneath cataclysmic clouds.

Clad in Winter

Whirling flakes of fantasy softly tango,
cheek to cheek, or modestly waltzing strangers.
Blizzard whiteout buffaloes moon and starlight,
   cloaking the lovers.

Frozen fountain, brazenly fetching, catching
coins of ice, those stupefied flattened pennies.
Queen of snow and fairies do bluster shavings.
   Breathless the statue.

Snowmen slurry tottering, wayward listing.
Melting, baring, chattering cherub crystals.
Water flowing merrily whistles sport at
   winter’s undressing.

The Ways We Fall Asleep

Sometimes I dream
of falling asleep
on white powdered sand
as comfortable as a Futon
with powerful ocean waves
cloaking my legs and torso
like a blanket immersed
in saltwater
keeping me warm
each and every nig

The path to freedom

“Of our ignorance, ego is the cause ~
Truth of our being is found in the pause”
            ~ quote by poet


As we slow down, light of soul is crystallised,
cloaking itself in five sheaths of feeble form,
out of which grossest is body, by us prized,
energised by magnetism, both cool and warm.
Truth of our inner light can be realised,
if ego agrees to die in a bliss storm,
to which end all we need to do, is be still,
delighting as dark voids within our heart fill.

Dancing In The Lamplight

In this guest room I only have this brown king-size blanket
To comfort me while I am also cloaking my movements
As I am dancing, listening to my headphones as I crank it.

White Dove

In a cage of wrought iron, a white dove resides,
A symbol of love—of purity, where innocence abides.
It sings its song, a melody of longing and despair,
But its cries for attention are lost in the air.

Upon its perch, it dances with poise and grace,
Yet its captor’s gaze remains fixed on another’s face.
The cage, once a haven, now a prison cold,
Where loneliness and isolation take their suffocating hold.

A dark shroud descends to silence the bird’s plea,
Cloaking its beauty, its spirit, for none to see.
In the shadows it lingers, the bird’s resolve wanes,
Thoughts of freedom, hope refrains.

Yet beneath the veil of darkness and gloom,
The daring dove dreams of rising from this tomb.
To soar once more in the boundless sky above,
A free spirit, on a quest for love.

Though trapped and forgotten, its soul stays strong,
For within its breast, love’s flame burns on.
One day, perhaps, the cage will open wide,
And the white dove of love will spread its wings and fly.

Black and White

I am like an avalanche slithering in shivering angst,
free-falling into an abyss of an aching era,
where luminous lakes reflect pixelated regrets,
for time throws my canvas into splitting helplessness,
and mind plays tricks in aimless frequency, 
framing toneless tenors within paralyzed psyche,
pushing and pulling ivory strings of my ebony heart.

Now I’m dwelling in the chaotic caves of a calculative carnivore,
unable to grasp the lunar light that envelopes forsaken fields, 
while crooning caged memories, like a pensive nightingale,
pondering, would the moon ever untangle these starless thoughts? 
Or was it written on the wailing walls  of melancholic museums~
that I was meant to drown in dizzying darkness?

I’ll rest my pen in a glass casket of equations~
cloaking this crippled conscience from seeing beyond vague visions,
detached from kohl eyes, eager to steal my voice,
as I keep sinking in black and white polarity, 
pausing curative prose in screeching silence.

Trash Trucks

Chirpy birds disturb my deep sleep.
Sky pastels reflect in a somber ashen tinge.
Sun seems to be lost in a floating mist,
cloaking wet slates and chimney smoke.

As lamp lights reflect upon puddles,
poured into uneven pavement slabs,
it seems like an abundance of angels,
wept like irritated insomniacs overnight.

In the backdrop of contemplation,
a trash truck thunders and plunders,
with boisterous waste collectors,
wheeling bins into its hungry mouth.

Sky paints in an apocalypse aura.
Mind is intrigued - pondering,
if only it wasn't just palpable garbage,
that was taken away and forgotten.

Cyber Life

CYBER LIFE


My stamen a purple flare of Light
lit from Galactic Sun
igniting me for an hour or a day 
a week or month, who knows ?
Portholes open ever so slightly 
     Time truly an illusion 

Between petals I zoom extracting 
nectar for cloaking against 
cyber pistols, unpeelings
invasions, unveilings, insertions
      with fire eating flesh

A joke tastes of poison
Moon a metallic observer
Buttons, knobs, numbers, clicks
My babes in their Pleiadian pods
incubated quietly like geraniums 
      in the backyard 

Radiants swirl down marbled stairways
No corridors or medbeds touched
trained so on a faraway planet
Sheets folded in symphony 
      without speck, sparkle or frequency 

We were strapped 
Plutonians commanded
destruction
Tails chopped or dissolved
    pendulums swung

A silent silvery slippery kiss
below a peppered moustache
pats on backs for a job 
        well done

My stamen wilted into mauve
Galactic Sun still waits
for me, as I return 
       to civilian couch


©GhairoDanielsPoetry&Song
2022

Trapped

Birman clouds gathered
To bury the top
Clawing their way down
to the dale below
White and grey cloaking
Short and sharp showers 
Bitingly icy
Enveloping all
Felinely smothered
Now invisible

Washing Over Me

In golden breaths, sunlight gestures
Sweet scented thoughts of yesterday
Promising pleasure, soft vestures
Cloaking hearts, kindness won’t betray

In the dusting of the springtime
Gentle kiss from the vibrant hues
Breathless as songs of a lifetime
Praising the grace, wonderful muse

In breathtaking moments, pausing
Lifting souls in prayers of peace
Coloring skies in shades causing
Hints of joy the dark won’t release

Wonders blaze in calm, muted dreams
Beautiful love with its extremes





In The Dusting Of The Springtime Sweet Scented Thoughts Of Yesterday Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Mystic Rose Rose
May 21, 2023

The Bullies' Dogs

He has a lot of visitors 
Who just drop by by the neighbors 
They have one common interest 
For a penny, they'd do their best 

A young woman with recurring song 
Thought she had not done any wrong 
All that she does is blow defame 
Without even knowing his name 

Then comes a young man with a haggard look 
That for a crook, you could mistook 
He barks the same words again and again 
Just like a dog with damaged brain 

An old woman who knows him not 
Comes by the neighbor in a cloaking hat 
She thinks she knows him all his days 
But she don't even know his face 

Why do these people denigrate 
For just a piece or slice of meat? 
Have their world already gone crazy
That they could kill for just a penny? 

Life could be harsh, but it could be greater 
If only they would try to be better 
But they choose to be a cheat 
For they don't want to drip a sweat 

April 1, 2023

Dimash the Shepherd: Story of One Sky Conclusion

DIMASH THE SHEPHERD 
(Story of One Sky Conclusion)

I am
Shepherd
Cloaking myself
In God’s soft simplicity 
My tasks complete
Songs sung
Light shone
Souls ignited 

Each day seven wheels
Revolved their full degrees
Now the Awakening 
know that Love is the Strike
of Light on the sleep
of a hundred thousand
years of wrenching knots

I return to You
to dissolve again
in your gentle
Ecstasy of knowing
Yourself as Voice

Each of Your atoms
in a chant or falsetto 
resonated in freedom’s 
True radiant White

How you ached to know
if You could go further
than planets not yet discovered 
You did through each of my
Harmonic breathes

Now I’m done to
cuddle frolicking lambs
and hold my staff
as heaven’s drumstick
It will beat the
silent space between 
Resonating genes


You are well pleased 
Our art of evolution 
continues to vibrate
in every fingertip
each sea-sponge and
Sand grain

Refreshed I will descend 
then ascend again 
as You instruct
to expose muted layers
My F-sharps alchemising
wolves with nightingales

I bow to You
As I hood !


©ghairodaniels2022

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