I Am Like the Sun Unbound
the Great Governance of Ohm dwells in Thy Light House,
I Am like the Moon, Blissful in Lucidity
in Judicious Harmony, I wield Fire like Gervasi
High Vibes is the Jive, I Coruscate in Eternity
I Am like Bucephalus stampeding on the Front Feet,
I Am like the Wind, Ever Hasten in Pure Flow
I Am like Hayk, Blitzing through Urartu on Marengo
I Am like the Stars, Glistening like Chapels of Flame
I Fly High in History, like Comanche Untamed
I Am like the Ocean, Infinite in Oceanic Splendor, My Spirit Soars
Into the Depts of my Soul I Go,
I Am like Moses, Parting Seas of Disbelief
One Eye, Four Heavens, I Return to my Essence, Full Speed like the Nazarene
I Am like Aurelius, Commanding Forth New Frontiers
I Am like Jefferson pursuing Dreams, forging Trilogies of Liberty
I Am like the Elements, Master of the Great Mystery
Sword Upright, Shield Strong, I Attain the Helmet of Victory
Written: August 07, 2025, for contest Sponsored by: Mark Toney
***********
Corset of steel tightens—ratified pain,
Vestigial breath trapped in ischemia thrall.
The ductile hope failed to placate
This Pyrrhic ache, this woebegone gall.
A sojourn in the squalor of soul,
Where sylphlike dreams maunder, downcast.
Ogle the embers of the miraculous nexus—
A seraphic visage lost, quickly.
Vivacious once, now virile with woe,
Panacea tastes of pabulum, slipshod, and cold.
Tinkling memories coruscate as zeugma—
Bright, yet untoward, they never hold.
Quixotic penchant for connection,
Grasping too late the nebula beneath.
What puissance is this—this throe, this tumult—
When tulle-wrapped love meets a gyre of grief?
Ululation beneath pavonine skies,
Adumbrate every glance, every sigh.
Crimson weave keeps a skirt in place,
Valuable, stained, adorned, and slain.
Within the first slivers of platinum moonlight, fireflies flicker.
Diamond dust from a bygone comet streaks by, piercing electric skies,
whilst a balmy August twilight enwraps an aging porch.
The gleam of a single candelabra casts light upon
harlequin-green ivy that tangles around worn banisters,
while primroses grow through cracks in the weathered stairs.
Creaking tones of oaken rocking chairs serenade hushed crickets.
Silhouettes of frolicking barn owls coruscate,
as the aroma of fresh peach pie floats along, synchronizing with the zephyrs.
Nostalgia-infused memories materialize, then vaporize like morning dew.
Your resounding laughter gets swept away,
like a swift current pulling transient sands of time with it.
Ephemeral remembrances are all I have of you now—
momentary glimpses through the Wheel of Time's mirror,
for it’s just the summer breeze rocking your vacant chair to and fro.
May blood vessels of affection amalgamate within!
And nucleus of compassion, like a fish and its bin…
Enabling ethical thoughts and words, and deeds coruscate,
Like sparks of virtues from fires of wisdom permeate...!
May evils that muddy the pools of purity give way,
To the crystal clear stream of goodness that would come to stay!
Wars and woes like cruel beasts before wildfire flee away,
Peace, like the rhythm of the universe, hearts, and minds, sway...!
When friendship by hatred is broken, may mercy flow in!
Bombs, cannons and missiles turn plows and people's hearts win;
May anything that leads the common human folks to sin,
Like husks and chaffs turn ashes in the fire of God's grin...!
Acceptance in place of rejection, may miracles bring!
Optimism in lieu of pessimism all evil views fling;
May discontentment, weakness, ingratitude, and sadness,
Bloom, this entire year, into bouquets of true happiness...!!!
01 January 2023
Inevitability
David J Walker
This is how I turned 20
With plenty of time left to
Opine its wastings awaiting
The sun to set
The weekend to come
Christmas
Birthdays
Summer vacations that
Race past the calendars edge
This is how I turned 30
Looking over a shoulder
To see who is catching up
Who is making up
For past mistakes and
Begging for retakes for the many
Wasted opportunities
This is how I turned 40
Feeling the changes
To my body and
The beliefs scattered over
The spectrum of
What is or
Is not to come
This is how I turned 50
Bracing for mortalities
Callings
Hoping that believing
May facilitate the stalling
Of recompense
On the final tabulation
To come and, oh
Tipping is encouraged
This is how I turned 60
In quiet contemplations
reflections
Concerning the reality of or
The days of coruscate refraction
that belong only to me
Is this how I will turn 70
in the insouciance
of what will be
is the outcome inevitably
predictable
two stars coruscate
inside a hole in the ground
rat's eyes from tunnel
Dec-26-2020
Avoiding The Limelight
Written: by Miracle Man
10-25-2019
Being coruscate,
has never been my style.
I’ve always been one,
keeping a low profile.
Which makes me,
a behind the scenes kind of guy.
One who’ll have your back,
if you’re a trusted ally.
I’ve been told before,
that I’m a born facilitator.
But slackers would say,
that’s synonymous with dictator.
But I’ve found in life,
that cream rises to the top.
Give me less than your best,
and I’ll consider you a flop.
Each time you hire a person smarter than you are,
You are proving how smart you are.
Tom
the weight of tears
for ten thousand years
more
the earth has wept
through women’s eyes
salted seas run with the moon
in tidal floods and pools
left high upon the shore
deserted
the tears of oceans captured
in scarred rock bowels
a woman washed in blue
sits beside a stranded pool
weeps liquid stars
into a crystal phial
she saves the weight of sorrow
in a silver capped vial
deep the rivers run
in shadowed places
they carve arteries and veins
carry secrets drop by drop
forming stalactites and stalagmites
of misery or joy
tears drown
weigh heavy on the chest
shatter mountains
carve and coruscate the soul.
If you are the world's greatest
I'm the shutterbug bagging your every moment
Every triumph; Every applause
Every glitter in your smile
Every sway of your hips
Every coruscate; of the corundums in your strides
Your every queenly bow of acknowledgment
If ever the epic of stage lights besieges you
The autumn flicker will be the snapping of my Pentacon Six
What lays in the black of your eyes
Burns wilder than a wild fire
If ever the green winds of change
Merge up in whirls of umbrage
and surge on to wreck your burgeoning soul
May the fabrics that rest on my shoulder
Corrode in the brimstone brooks of your tears
Together we'll chase shooting stars
Until we lose them to the horizons
And watch the sun heave off its blanket
I will watch the rainbows with you
And see you tap energy from the wonders of creation
Tomorrow I'll see flowers white and I will dance with butterflies,
On grass uncut between my knees. They'll call me pal and gladly I,
Will love them back. The smell of yarrows will refill the empty sky,
While their white blooms will coruscate both on the grass and in my eyes.
Tomorrow I will sing again. I wonder what will butterflies,
Prefer when it will come to music. I will sing while they will flap,
Their whitely purple wings. And yarrows with their flowers white will clap,
So I imagine even worms will have to wake up from despise.
Tomorrow I will feel again inside my soul the butterflies,
As if they are still juvenile. They'll pick my soul and fly up high,
To clouds where yarrows bloom. Those yarrows that caress my inner eye,
Will hold my soul and butterflies there in the transcendental skies.
Tomorrow I will have to wake up when my skin will meet sunrise,
And then again I'll say: »Tomorrow I will dance with butterflies!«
...for Leonard Cohen
They unweave the web of lies for you,
lay platters of forgiveness at your feet,
intrigue falters, and the taint of greed,
their soft embraces dutiful and sweet.
They walk you through the fire with measured gait,
distilling all the hatred and the fear,
'til cleansed and ready for the test of faith
you pass through Heaven's gate without a tear.
Emulsified, the portrait of a waif
takes shape, as if transfigured by the Light,
within the crucible you coruscate,
and glow unhindered, gentled by their might.
A waif in Heaven's eyes is like a king,
untrammeled by the trappings of the crown,
in rags, yet fortified by trust and love,
the Sisters pray, you lay your burdens down.
...for Leonard Cohen
They unweave the web of lies for you,
lay platters of forgiveness at your feet,
intrigue falters, and the taint of greed,
their soft embraces dutiful and sweet.
They walk you through the fire with measured gait,
distilling all the hatred and the fear,
'til cleansed and ready for the test of faith
you pass through Heaven's gate without a tear.
Emulsified, the portrait of a waif
takes shape, as if transfigured by the Light,
within the crucible you coruscate,
and glow unhindered, gentled by their might.
A waif in Heaven's eyes is like a king,
untrammeled by the trappings of the crown,
in rags, yet fortified by trust and love,
the Sisters pray, you lay your burdens down.
...for Leonard Cohen
They undo the web of lies for you,
lay platters of forgiveness at your feet,
intrigue falters, and the taint of greed,
their soft embraces dutiful and sweet.
They walk you through the fire with measured gait,
distilling all the hatred and the fear,
'til cleansed and ready for the test of faith
you pass through Heaven's gate without a tear.
Emulsified, the portrait of a waif
takes shape, as if transfigured by the Light,
within the crucible you coruscate,
and glow unhindered, gentled by their might.
A waif in Heaven's eyes is like a king,
untrammeled by the trappings of the crown,
in rags, yet fortified by trust and love,
the Sisters pray, you lay your burdens down.
Wealth, body and soul,
Its all that continues to roll,
But what we choose among these as our goal.
Its wealth for sure, and status of course.
Which glister and coruscate,
So glinting and glittering,
And very much eye popping.
If I don’t hold it tight it may fly,
Always beguiling others who passes by.
Second comes the bag of bones- the body,
Walking hand in hand,
Whether its water or sand.
Only needs to be heed with little care,
So eminent it appears,
Its so pretty and rare.
I asked both to accompany me to the God’s acre,
But no one stood,
While walking, I saw back,
And everything I understood.
The one walking with me to my deathbed,
Was the last, the least,
Uncared, unloved, unnoticed,
So limp, so feeble,
It was the “Soul”.
...for Leonard Cohen
They unweave the web of lies for you,
lay platters of forgiveness at your feet,
intrigue falters, and the taint of greed,
their soft embraces dutiful and sweet.
They walk you through the fire with measured gait,
distilling all the hatred and the fear,
'til cleansed and ready for the test of faith
you pass through Heaven's gate without a tear.
Emulsified, the portrait of a waif
takes shape, as if transfigured by the Light,
within the crucible you coruscate,
and glow unhindered, gentled by their might.
A waif in Heaven's eyes is like a king,
untrammeled by the trappings of the crown,
in rags, yet fortified by trust and love,
the Sisters pray, you lay your burdens down.
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