Commingled Poems | Examples

Thought of the day

God is the supreme light that lights all lights,
commingled with throb of bliss that delights.

The cosmic vibration

“Meditation on) Pranava, the divine sound of Aum, is the only way to Brahman (Spirit), salvation.”
~ extract from ‘The Holy Science’


The root mantra that pervades the universe,
is the gong of Om, the cosmic vibration,
within which if our attention we immerse,
we enter the vibrant void of cessation,
imbibing God’s grace with no need to rehearse,
attuned to the cosmic reverberation.
In time Om becomes our inner sound current,
commingled with throb of bliss beats recurrent.

Abode of God

It is from heart that all desires arise
so therein too they must be satisfied,
which requires our ego to vaporise,
whence light of God in cave of heart is spied.

We affirm we have been, seen and so known,
God as the supreme light that lights all lights,
which is also called light of Self full blown,
commingled with throb of bliss that delights.

Smaller than an atom, vaster than space,
this wisdom is imbibed when heart is pure,
mode embrace and release at a slow pace,
heart lotus in full bloom and yet demure.

In life’s game of hide and seek, God’s been found
in the cave of our heart, free and unbound.

How was the universe created

In God’s heart an intent arose,
which we may simply call His will,
to manifest the universe,
where agape love may overspill.

God conjured earth, water and fire 
which are present in every form
and once this knowing we acquire,
bastions of wisdom we can storm.

These three elements God combined,
to create all that’s manifest,
by force of His absolute mind,
each form being by His touch blessed.

There then are only these three things,
within all diverse forms beheld
and in each heart God Himself sings,
that soul may choose with Him to meld.

Reworded, we do not exist,
as a separate entity;
of highest truth, this is the gist ~
false is ego identity.

All we see is an appearance,
diverse spectrum of vibration,
wherein all that is, is entwined,
commingled with God’s creation.

Scripture read, differing we say,
air and space deserve inclusion;
we need them too in form of clay,
five entwined in perfect fusion.

Why are we bound

As a child of God, we have His power
commingled with divine love, light and bliss 
but since we know not, in fear we cower,
sinking deeper into desire’s abyss,
though our heart tells us something is amiss.
Recognising we are not body-mind,
we then play our life role as God assigned
as spirit ensouling organic form,
transmitting vibrations loving and kind, 
with our eye mindful, touch tender and warm.

Awake within the dream

A gentle breeze blows, commingled with light,
each morn greeting our presence without fail,
our senses coming to life with delight,
in thought rested calm where no fears assail.

Nodes within form are suffused with cool heat,
God’s disc of light rotates over our head,
with energy peaked at our palms and feet,
our vibrant presence is by bliss beats led.

In this manner, in but not of the world,
with all doings on earth done by God’s hand,
we breathe in grace, in the nest of heart curled,
in witness mode, imposing no demand.

Innocence plays, heart prays, awareness stays,
in time stretched stillness in form that decays.

When our eye is single

Given that God alone is the all there is
and all manifestations are but a dream,
to find out who we are is then not a quiz,
for as we are bathed in light of love’s moonbeam,
from our heart bursts forth, a thunderous bliss fizz,
whence we see this world is not as it does seem.
When our eye is single, we are full of light,
commingled with bliss mists ushering delight.

Undergrowth with Two Figures - Van Gogh

I could never tell reality from dreams,
so palpable, oil on canvas seems, 
and while in both realms, I now dwell, 
must I say to one, farewell?
or go on living in Hell?

On a long spring day one hopeful May,
my imagination would display
violet poplars and undergrowth of green,
where emerged a woman, so serene -
magically, from nature, unforeseen.

She spoke to me and I could feel
that she must certainly be real,
but she told me she wasn't there.
I said I didn't care - 
she was the answer to my prayer. 

As dappled light on my skin, tingled, 
reality and dreams commingled,
and this lady fine and fair,
that I swore I saw standing there,
disappeared slowly in the air.

Winter Warmth

clear crystal gemstones
on borders and veins adorned ---
leaves stand grey-green commingled 

sparrows stay cuddled
on these snow-filled silver leaves 
both draw reciprocal warmth


10 January 2023

Survival

We burrow our way through each other’s lives 
Nurturing wounds we pretend to believe.
Time, a sieve for palpitations created 
By the language of the heart. 
Using words commingled from 
The breast of the best 
We hope for our own salvation, 
But clarity is just a day without clouds.
The only breath taken without remorse 
Is the one taken by God.
Blowing matter across the windswept plains 
Of our spirit with just enough salt 
For one more irritation. 
Each inclination of indignation 
Turns to residual action
Where suicide is survived. 
Every blink transitions 
Into the floating lash 
of someone’s whip, 
Embracing a stranger’s back 
with another kiss.
There is no precious cargo here. 
There never was.
Like all dead end kids 
We give up, grow up, 
Throw up, 
And survive.

The Door

A location, is different than a place.
There are many locations, but
There are only two places.
One is with you, 
The other is without.

I have traveled to the place that is you.  
I have paused frequently at that space 
Below your left ear 
At the base of your neck, 

It is the space where my lips 
Join your skin
Pressing my ear against your neck 
To hear your heartbeat quicken.

Against you there, 
With commingled hair, 
My breath flows down your breast 
Merging with your own 
Wandering back 
As a warmth against my cheek.

Here, there lies a door
Where I have left 
This earth before

To enter Heaven.

Greater Than the Stone--

Seems like you've been whittled and torn 
Wish you hadn't been born 
Been persecuted and worn 
Wish you hadn't been born 
But alas you whom hold the prize 
Been made in His image been washed in His Holy Blood 
Now you realize commingled with creativity 
And braced in his love 
Your first father and you made him from the dirt 
From the Earth 
But left Paradise giving away your greater than the stone 
And you never been alone 
You're greater than the stone 
God has made you one of his own
Your greater than the stone 
Crown casting everlasting hallmark efface compile 
Created from the ground breath  in my carcass
 I am greater than Stone 
Have been chosen 
And persecuted and warned 
Wish you hadn't been born 
But I've been made in His image you never be alone 
I'm greater than Stone/em>



1King 5:17-18
4 /7/ 15
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr  2015, 2020

A Familial Condition

Disgruntled, they come to me as bit-parts
ripped from black and white movies. 
Mad aunt Anastasia, who should have been a nun.
One of her hands will not touch her,
the other has been carried off
by wolfish priests.
The Holy Ghost has pickled her in a jar;
she floats now between worlds. 

Uncle Sean, the satyric commis-waiter,
looming above a meaty cleavage,
flambéed Steak Diane with a sapid leer,
poured cognac and butter,
commingled shallots at the table.
Then after the hunt, he’d triumphantly decant
into whomever. 

Cousin Tommy died early,
but not before he had burnt through
the Old Testament.
A brimstone disorder gnawed his innards,
left him lacking normal human kapok,
kept him bubbling until a self-inflicted wound
blew out his brains.

There are cousins removed and living
who disassemble themselves, with zealotry
or ennui. None took the middle way,
none quietly settled-in
to live among damp-stained regrets.  

Like larks’ tongues, they sing in the invisible.
They reside in the far reaches,
until dark angels flame out
in their berserker eyes.

Drawn On Paper

Drawn on Paper

The small house, mostly quiet.
No one up. 
No one to notice anything. 
Things just happened.
Magic.

Lights sparkled…
from no where.
The soft sound,
of angel wings,
busy.
 
The ever so sweet smell,
of chocolate and peppermint, 
commingled with apple spice, 
permeates the very air.

Pine…
That is (or was) my favorite. 
It is still. 

I wish that I had been awake.
I wish that I had been there. 

The tree was huge, 
how did it get inside?
The presents too many to count…
Who were they from?

Wishes, in crayon…

Dear God,

Obsession

An ambiguous grey sky you turned to  blue,
in whiteness of dawn, I could see everything.
Splattering glossy paint you changed my hue,
in fading shade of sepia, you exalted a spring.

I was immune to emotion, bickering in brood 
seeping  in reveries, soul wrapped in slumber.
Coherence eluded in wilderness of solitude, 
every moment it was you, who held me under.

My bottled up feelings, you opened them out
as I laid helpless in my whirlpool commingled.
You squirmed away my despair and doubt
in sessions of therapy, my huddles untangled. 

You gave me  new life, you cured my depression.
In your boundless sky,  I found my direction. 
No, I am not in love with you, trust my confession.
Not a compulsive disorder, you are my  obsession.




25th June 2019

Sponsor	William Kekaula
Contest Name : More To Me

• Short Commingled Poems
• Famous Commingled Poems
• Best Commingled Poems
• Read Commingled Poems
• Long Commingled Poems
• Commingled Quotes