Within this sanctum
of breath and bone—
ten trillion anchorites
mimic their devotions.
Bacteria threading
blood’s vermilion rivers
braiding holy water
into the cathedral
of now.
Their alchemy transmutes
starlight
into the wine of existence—
decanted
from Orion’s mythical vine.
Viruses—
those threshold wraiths
between being
and unbeing—
inscribe new verses
in the living gospel
of our chromosomes.
Fungi a cappella
in mycelial tongues
through marrow’s moaning chambers
decomposing resurrection
from each small death
we die.
We are not hosts—
but cantatas
still composing themselves
in light.
Each cell—
a verse rehearsing resurrection.
Hark:
your pulse conducts
this unseen choir
where mortal breath
becomes immortal song.
And in this sacrosanct
communion of kingdoms,
we learn
we were never “I”—
but a constellation of prayers:
timeless,
boundless—
Bacteria
Viruses
Fungi
Me—
becoming
one.
Expressions
of spirit
the music
plays on
Beyond any
verbiage
or words
come and gone
At high
elevations
each note
takes you up
To reach
into heaven
where feelings
conduct
As harp
strumming Angels
with harmony
strong
Play chords
of acceptance
to guide
— you along
(1st Book Of Prayers: June, 2025)
Trump,
he's not perfect, admittedly so, but who of us is?
He can be crass, he is brash, and he'll even talk some trash.
He's not hiding who he is. I much prefer knowing who I am
dealing with, than the last joker we got screwed with!
Biden was an unscrupulous thief, selling out our country
for financial gain, with his bagman son!
His administration and the cabal of despicable bureaucrats,
who were actually pulling the strings, while covering up Biden's
obvious mental decline! At least I know who's running the country now.
Yes, sure there are things I don't care for, regarding how Trump
conducts himself, but what I do know about him is this, that he wants
America to be Great, for me, for you, for us all, and since this is the
country I live in, I want that too!
So, in the meantime, I'll put up with a few character flaws!
"The earth has music for those who listen."
- George Santayana.
....................................................
The rhythm on tree backs from woodpeckers' knocks,
With rustling of leaves as the trees moan in winds,
The roar of the falls down the hills thrills the flocks,
The whistling of gusts through the space in our minds...
Nature conducts its melody soft yet grand.
Written for the contest: Write Five Beautiful Lines
Contest Judged: 3/14/2025 9:53:00 PM
Sponsored by: Constance La France
Placement: 2nd
Red flags forsworn, my trajectory fell
Into the gravity well of your spell;
My soul is intact,
My body in fact -
Split between love or lust, I cannot tell.
You are a rogue element at my core,
The current conducts me towards the door;
But my body, lame,
Hard into the game,
Outcome forsworn, it charges for encore.
Laws of physics applied in humankind,
Amplify frictions of a human mind.
Attract or repel -
Yet under the spell
One human law’s evident, Love Is Blind!
With only twelve keys
the music commands
Some white and some black
their harmony grand
Scoring the melody
eternal and free
Whether Quincy or Frank,
Prince, Peggy, or me
Heaven the audience
Angels out front
Truth for a drummer
Sandalphon conducts
All time in abeyance
the chorus in song
Both gates swinging open
—the silence is gone
(The New Room: April, 2023)
Fall's bright colors are taking flight like birds on the wing
It's the right time for a clime change and seasonal transformation
brisk winds whisk leaves in plight and can no longer cling
Autumn sends a note that portends a change is in the air
Months of holidays and sublime door displays in celebration
of prime family feasts and Halloween beasts that surely scare
There are ripe fields to harvest with care and yields to measure
Nature conducts bright scenes as she gleans to write an orchestration
of Winter snows and light woolen clothes, a season to treasure
Oh, Symphony Sunrise, where hues ignite,
A celestial canvas painted with light.
The dawn's first blush, a rosy crescendo,
Whispering secrets the night could not bestow.
The sky, a stage, where stars begin to fade,
And clouds, like dancers, in the shadows play.
A symphony of colors, soft and bold,
A tapestry of gold, and crimson, and old.
The sun, a maestro, with a golden bow,
Conducts the orchestra of the morning's glow.
Each ray a note, a vibrant, soaring sound,
As darkness recedes, and light is found.
The trees, like silent listeners, stand tall,
Their leaves, a chorus, responding to the call.
The birds, their voices, blend with the sun's light,
A vibrant aria, in the morning's bright.
From slumber deep, the world begins to stir,
Touched by the symphony, a brand new chapter.
A promise whispered in the morning breeze,
Of hope and joy, and life that never ceases.
So let us listen, to this wondrous art,
The symphony of sunrise, that touches the heart.
For in its beauty, we find grace anew,
A reminder of the wonders that life can imbue.
8/24/2024
Moonlight or Sunrise Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Ink Empress
Meowlu the cat, with fur so black,
Sings meow-meow upon his back;
His purrs are soft, his whiskers long,
He loves to hum his favourite song.
At night he wakes and stretches wide,
Then to the window, he glides;
With tiptoe paws and eyes so bright,
Meowlu steps out into the night.
The moon shines down on the grass so green,
Where Meowlu starts his nightly scene;
He mews a tune for all to hear,
The nighttime creatures gather near.
With crickets chirping, frogs in tune,
Meowlu conducts beneath the moon;
Till dawn arrives, he takes a bow,
Then home he trots, with one last meow.
Rippling soil sways in ways
In ways a maestro drunkenly
Displays their baton, Earth in
Perfect fluid Earthen motion
It conducts and plays en tandem
The symphony of syrup season
Rings through Vermont’s silken air
Each movement weaves effortless
In majesty.
Hickory smoke leaves the sap house
The chorus of birch bark harkens
Weaving through the chimney’s maw
A mirror of the lone sugarmaker
His jaw a practiced spile, he is
The arch in the evaporator
With a puff of Cuban Affair kush
He admires the beauty of the
sugarbush
Timeless lyrical,
compassionate dance,
a shifting effect
of light and color,
the glowing full moon
conducts in folk tune.
Indispensable
distant humble stars
spring a russet, sign.
White unfolded wings
flitter wayward round
a rhythmic beating
in shadow, chill, air.
The spike tuft ears owl
melodies hooting,
influence passion.
A lovers' heartbeat
keeping steady rhythm.
A starlight guides the
way by windswept night.
Caused Steinbeck reword "Mirth" known printed write,
harmony pulse conducts the marooned cell,
though breaks, wisely kept in tune with itself.
The gauge's clicks sway one to soothe its height.
"Each and All", "Earth Song" Emerson's ballad.
Unversed preexist's renewed care recalls.
Harp rhythm strings strum as the organ pedals.
Rhapsody ensures airy suite valid.
Calm reflects symmetry, pleasures belong,
deep voices grants the life-timers acclaim.
Solemn occasions psalm, heartfelt gifts claim.
Unsung Heavenly pace grow the swan song.
invites internal hope vibrates anew,
renewed life rewarded, heartbeat pipes true.
Seated in a coffee-shop
an extra-large with hot milk
and a slice of decadence
await her indulgence
she leans forward
and spontaneously reacts
to her companion’s
whispered observation
rose-red laughter
pours white-water loud
from her joy-filled mouth
her floating hand
gee-jawing above the table-top
enthusiastically conducts
the wheeze-gasp spasms of her mirth
she unloads like rolling thunder
pounding the other patrons
as they de-caff-dunk
their croissants
huge, mesmerising
her sheer abandon
reduces all others
to a whisper
a stolen glance
some harrumph
others smile
I would love to hug her
to chat with her
about dinosaurs and daffodils
carburetors and kittens
to fall asleep
next to her smile.
When you take a walk in nature allowing silence to be your guide…
If you listen…listen carefully…silence will reveal her other side.
For on the other side of silence…enchanting sounds appear…
and when you take the time to listen…oh the wonders you will hear.
In the silence on a mountain path…listen to the breeze.
In the silence of a garden…listen to the bees.
In the silence of a forest…listen to the trees.
In the silence of a winter day…listen to the freeze.
In the silence of the shoreline…listen to the waves.
In the silence of a cemetery…listen to the graves
In the silence of a riverbank…listen to the stream.
In the silence of the evening…listen to your dreams
On the other side of silence…nature conducts a symphony.
On the other side of silence…is where she finds her harmony.
On the other side of silence…softly filling the air…
a myriad of wonders…waiting for you there.
With only twelve keys
the music commands
Some white and some black
their harmony grand
Scoring the melody
eternal and free
Whether Quincy or Frank,
Prince, Peggy, or me
Heaven the audience
Angels out front
Truth for a drummer
Sandalphon conducts
All time in abeyance
the chorus in song
Both gates swinging open
—the silence is gone
(The New Room: April, 2023)
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