She deliberately sashayed across the room,
the very breathless harbinger of lost desire;
all the men whom she passed by seeming to consume
this effervescent commingling of ice and fire.
In an instant, witless men succumb to her becoming,
as she played them like a bass fiddle, strumming.
"Humans delight in the comfort of friends.
If not, the joy of commingling ends."
__by Poet
My neighbor, next door, remains single-
It seems she knew not how to mingle.
She refused to join in
And would not let us win-
Just stayed in her human-proof dingle.
One day, we created a jingle
Hoping it would send her a tingle!
“Joining groups, so much fun
You'll be pleased when it's done!”
She hung her “do not disturb" shingle!
She never did quite intermingle-
Strong neighbor support soon did dwindle.
So she missed the delight
Of her God-given right-
To share in the joys to commingle.
within us magnetism dwelling
gentleness that is compelling
kundalini pervading form
presence towards God propelling
carried by currents cool and warm
in childlike trust as we conform
bliss beats vibrate in every node
each cell the centre of love’s storm
strewn with rose petals is our road
we walk lightly, on heart no load
God’s blob of bliss on our head grows
joyous soul sings to Him an ode
pinch of bliss between our eyebrows
one with crown and spine humbly bows
thus in stillness bliss is invoked
radiant in the boat God rows
time flows on yet we remain yoked
in living light of heaven cloaked
we do not attain but become
fire eternal by God’s hand stoked
epiphanies dawned are welcome
commingling with the cosmic hum
transmutation in slow motion
as Divine Mother plays the drum
Coat stand tree commingling clan protects
Quilted caterpillar sticks linen to spine
Pine foliage erect points to its apex
Before its born, spire spreads star shine
Swooping swivel neck owl huddles, human eyes
Scan heaven, hook beak hoots transmit signal
For seraphim shifting, shades of dove devise
Butterfly current shaken napkin nimble
Venture from avenues of arrow quivers
Dispell dictating army apostrophes
Barrel roll ballistic, blank space delivers
Delight due outside barracks claustrophobic
Antenna tuned owl throatily purrs
Pleasure for butterfly’s fast learned journey, laughed
Drift under dry angel feathers, breeze spurs
Freedom wish from wizard to aloof aircraft
27 January 2025
Written for Contest:
Embodying the Light
Sponsor: Unseeking Seeker
Amidst the Snowflakes
Like thousands of soldiers in parachutes
they come out of the winter sky
One by one hitting the pavement
to claim victory for the season now unfolding
At first they are vanquished almost instantly
a price paid for those leading the charge
However as they begin to accumulate and cluster
a formidable foe is being created
Inch by inch, foot by foot, a fortress is being built
one that can be transformed into an igloo for shelter if needed
Soon the landscape will be covered by a heavy white blanket
left unattended it will run amok overwhelming all
As plummeting temperatures assault those not ready
once open lakes and river pathways no longer escape routes
A battering ram of inclement weather hampering travel
imprisoning those caught unaware of its fury
Snow drifts form obstructing passageways
entrapping those not prepared with an escape route
Waiting out the enemy a defensive strategy now in use
As it surrounds you on all sides building an oppressing presence
High winds and frostbite commingling in the air
that will dominate at the end of the day
Beauty or beast
The conflict yet to be decided.
Andreas Simic ©
Christmas courts contentment, cheer
Contributes comfort, comity-
Commingling with the coming Christ.
Can celebrate with caroling,
Church choir chanting, candlelight.
Create commitments to cherish
Connection conceived with Christ.
Christmas cards and caring confirm
Charity, compassion, closeness-
Culled core of Christmas centerpiece.
December 16, 2020
Contest: Alliteration
Sponsor: Eve Roper
drained by seven withering storms
dessert cactus and prickly thorns
littered was the winding road
that charted highways à la mode
painted strokes of pastel hues
streaming waves of flowing blues
mountains rose that blocked the sky
eclipse when worlds defy
paths followed on cobblestones
passed fallen heroes and graveyard bones
bridges spanned white-capped waters
life misled like seven daughters
amber waves across fruited plains
garnished the life that love sustains
monuments tied to pride
eclipse when worlds collide
wind and fire without concession
merge to rise and take possession
conquer the failing weak
the strong refuse to die oblique
past seven gables on seven roofs
I rode wild horses with pounding hoofs
to a fireside and hearth that warms
commingling hearts hearth silence storms
February 16, 2020
Heavenly flakes of light snow, drift on down,
weaving soft blankets of whiteness, pristine,
vowing to serve neath His Christmas Eve Crown;
beautiful visions, so peaceful and clean.
Weaving soft blankets of whiteness, pristine,
while from that Star, blessings shower the town.
Beautiful visions, so peaceful and clean;
hillsides cascade like a white satin gown.
While from that Star, blessings shower the town,
nestled this night among glittering trees,
hillsides cascade like a white satin gown;
symbols of Christmas- commingling to please.
Nestled this night among glittering trees,
high on a hill, Santa, with Rudolph, stands;
symbols of Christmas- commingling to please,
spreading God's love- as the bright Star commands.
High on a hill, Santa, with Rudolph stands,
vowing to serve neath His Christmas Eve Crown;
spreading God's love- as the bright Star commands-
heavenly flakes of light snow, drift on down.
December 27, 2019
Contest: Christmas Pantoum Rhyme
Sponsor: Eve Roper
Prompt: Photo No. 3
Cobblestones hold silent steps on damp reflections
Boots echo soft with lightning strikes ahead
A hidden knife in jacket comes to life
Still pillowed under fog to crack the night wide open
Gray silhouettes set into dim imaginings of action
There where the sleeping ships sink into comas
Someone comes out from under shadows back
Up from behind a buildings mold ridden bricks
To overcome the unsuspecting victim by the river
No time to scream in agony in pain or prayer
Escape is now impossible under muffled sounds
Slitting throats must stay a secret bleeding out
Floods are expected according to reports
The weather is less predictable by the docks
Commingling crimson in cold waters is odd
A dingy takes the criminal away to safety
A getaway planned in advance for this occasion
Well before the weather report came out
To forecast the condition red in place of rain
Echoes!
Faint echoes
abound.
Ghosts in
the ether.
Faint, subtle.
Barely discernible.
Information
never lost
yet
nearly so.
The void,
filled with
echoes,
forever.
Echoes of
once was.
Echoes filled
with civilizations
noise.
Filled with
essence,
filled with
history.
Stories
of civilizations.
All that ever
was, just echoes.
Echoes filled
with ethos,
filled with
poems,
filled with
aspersions,
filled with each
civilizations
essence.
All they
represented.
Gone now!
Passing like
ghost ships.
Ghost ships
in the
night.
Echoes
passing thru
echoes.
Commingling.
Meeting!
Ghosts, meeting
ghosts deep
in the void!
Exchanging,
yet
never to
have met
at all.
The first crystal drop
of realization
shatters your glassy surface
and radiates the idea outward
in reflective ripples
growing concentric circles
with the newness
of being thought of
for the very first time
one drop
follows another
in a thoughtful cascade
and a thrilling commingling
of contemplative resonance
skimfully intersects
on a liquescent wavelength
…like a collection of Chinese linking rings
smoothly passing through each other…
exchanging enchantment
casting their own brand of magic
in lucid fluidity
across the suffused surface
of your soulful depths
that in this pearl
of a moment
revels
in revealing
the answers you seek.
Susan Ashley
July 28, 2018
I know something about being a GLBT Ginger,
the undress and redress of our left leaning politics,
like sacred naked communion
for Therapeutic Warriors.
At my best,
when adolescence urged HisHer ugly ambiguous head
through pubescent tail,
I wondered if other fire redheads
and sun speckled skins
felt this co-passioned love,
desire beyond procreative need
to touch,
embrace,
to smell,
to taste,
but not to own.
How could I have known
difference between my Ginger sensuality
and gay male nervous sexuality
without more comparative communion?
Although,
in hindsight,
perhaps not quite so much commingling
of sacred elements
I invested with integrity
for sorting out these red
and blue-black,
purplish and heated
ultra-violet distinctions
of warm wet rainbow Gay ecopolitics,
with Ginger red-yin differences,
influences,
tinctures seductive and reductive,
distinctions inductive and deductive;
Integrity of wild red unrest.
three aloes in spring
roots commingling with moist soil -
they exist as one
Susan Ashley
August 13, 2017
Poetry is a thirst-quencher
I look forward to my daily cup
It rehydrates my parched spirit
Attenuates the bitter taste of life
Every sip, I savour
As I see poetry everywhere
In everything
In Toronto's tall buildings,
In its small cafés
In its multitudes
In the blue eyes, green,
And brown eyes
In the smiling faces
And the mirthless ones
In doors opening like gaping mouths
Ejecting hapless Torontians
In the big blue lake
In the multiple languages commingling with English
In the churches, mosques and temples
Side by side
In the aroma of ethnic cooking
In the wide highways
Offering endless possibilities
In the ever so brief but warm summers
In the hope written on immigrant's faces
I see poetry
In the priest's homily at Sunday mass
In the voice of a young mother
Scolding her child
I hear poetry
Poetry is a thirst-quencher
Pour me a cup
And I'll forever be your friend
Framed Soul
Within their frames, like lovely captured dreams,
my art and poems speak of life: green trees,
soft azure skies, sun-sparkled winding streams;
a field of daisies leaning in the breeze.
With paint and words, I often rendezvous,
commingling nature's glory with my own;
those imageries create a window view
thru which my inner joys of life are shown.
I stand apart and contemplate my art...
recall the tedious, long hours so spent
to merge with what dwells deep within my heart.
But, always I am filled with the lament...
of an observer...never meant to win;
forever on the outside looking in.
Sandra M. Haight
~3rd Place~
Contest: The Poet's Own
Sponsor: Greg Barden
Judged: 09/18/2017
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