In cusp between the Piscean Age
and Aquarian Age lies misfits
energies that take you across the Rubicon
To oar a Rubicon fire and ice is
vital
vibrations facing
slippery tar burning white
what is geek are not wolves in sheep’s clothing
it is magnetic radiance fearless
wearing takkies
seeing rose petals as a language of
capillaries that coloured Piscean Age
in its slumber as we wet white sheets
Cusp
is a ditch before ascension
silent hollows smiling their grey matter
in high heels
raw silk at a table of gossip
Aquarius rises from dungeon
prepared
aware it has already walked through
orange flames
furnaced
liberated (...)
________________________
Allpoetry Honorable Winner
Prompt: “I walk through shadow into
flame becoming Light, Becoming Sky”
March 26
Before nodding off in bed and on the cusp
of wide awake and fast asleep
when I can't keep my eyes open
while drifting down into darkness deep
the oddest thoughts cross my mind
without so much as a single warning
but even stranger still of it's own free will
it recalls them all come the morning
where they originate I can't say
as fleeting flybys quite romancy
they're not dreams or so it seems
but nightly random flights of fancy
There's a faint light beaming up through the cracks
in everything that has the answers.
I stand on the edge peering in,
facing up to the risk of failing, falling in,
on the cusp of not looking away.
No thunder rolls, no curtain calls,
for the silence between
breaths, blinks, and heartbeats
holds the final bluff and dare,
as toes reach over the edge
and shadows stall in their recall,
of what might otherwise have been,
on the cusp of facing up.
Morning thoughts of you roses full of dew
gardens full of summer love, sweet romance
here inside your arms we rebirth brand-new
like the morning sun when it starts to dance
Aborning sunlight cortef hours .... loved,
like the pied colors of a rainbow burst.
glancing tinted shades two petals englobed
to the loving hands of time, we come first.
Inside this garden youthful hours of truth
reborn like the seasons we live nonetheless
despite of the winter mulched in vermouth
we pair up nicely, ... to nature's headdress
Morning blushes her cheeks and we turn right,
like airborne angels, at the cusp of night.
At the cusp
Of a wave, a change, a fall
Into total darkness
Here we stand
Or rather slide
Headfirst into destruction
And as we fall
Into chaos and dissolution
We will at last be saved
And in that moment
What we took for granted
Will be lost
Within the total chaos
Law and order will be established
And with it the end of freedom
This is the new world order
That awaits when their machinations
Come to fruit
You, me, us
Reduced to so many parts
Without regard for who we really are
And in the change
As the light of dawn unfolds
Will we be revealed as spirt or flesh
And in the severing
Will we sink or fly
In terror or relief
This is the cusp
We find ourselves on
As the powers that be extend
And as they grow
And we still have a choice
What will it be
(10/25/24)
Let me hear you let me see you
There is no echo, only existence
The brave presentation of everything it is
A swirling mystery I cannot grasp
Let me hold you.
Let me hold you.
But it simply is
Let me cup the clouds
See how you flow around me
How you flow around what is put into you
I listen to what your dance speaks
Duly record the parts of who you are
Loves fries. Hates ketchup. Likes fries with ketchup.
Keep interacting keep living
My beloved
I want to see you I seek to know how
To know you
To kiss you
on the cusp
poised precarious, point perched,
lies threshold brink verge,
the tipping-point pivot to,
rise/fall from grace.
He teetered on the cusp of change,
Wanting to make each moment last ~
This flying of time seemed so strange,
He teetered on the cusp of change ~
What would he not do to exchange
his life for harmless childhood past!
He teetered on the cusp of change,
Wanting to make each moment last.
All our lives we’re on the cusp
When entering a phase,
From infancy to toddlerhood
And on, all through our days.
We go to school and then we’re on
The cusp of a career.
We date and fall in love; the cusp
Of family life draws near.
We reach the cusp of middle age
And possibly success,
Along with all the highs and lows
Of life and all the stress.
As years go by, we reach the cusp
Of yet another stage,
Becoming “seniors” with the downfalls
Linked with older age.
It ends the way that it begins -
For right from our first breath,
We go through life, forgetting
We are on the cusp of death.
His sons used to take turns holding feasts in their homes…when a period of feasting had run its course, Job would send and have them purified. Early in the morning he would sacrifice a burnt offering for each of them, thinking, “Perhaps my children have sinned and cursed God in their hearts.”
Job 1:5 NIV
ON THE CUSP OF JOB
On the cusp of Job,
we find his sons
and daughters
feasting apart,
their hearts failing
their father and God.
On the cusp of Job’s
disasters, he purifies
and teaches.
He loves his kin
ever so much.
On the cusp of life’s
divide, Job’s priestly
responsibilities. Serious
as mannah delivered
every morning
to the hungry crowd.
On the cusp of pain
and sorrow, too great
for one man to take -
yet down the line
we find Jesus’ sacrifice.
On the cusp of this generation,
do we nudge our children
toward salvation or perdition?
Do we teach them to have
a lively faith?
7/6/2022
Final verse inspired by words from Ellicott’s Commentary
Mystical Moon, languidly adrift in pallid glory,
is holding night court, clad in gold silk sarong.
Ruling her astral kingdom, amusing with a story
about a cow and a spoon; singing a lyrical song.
"Wondrous Moon," said I, "lamp unto this night,
may your lustrous path stay vigilant and not stray."
In comply, I saw strung on high, myriads of bright,
luminous stars, glinting down on a fishing quay.
Moonlight plays on lily pads, afloat on Amon Bay,
shining on croaking bullfrogs, just having fun,
bathing in nocturnal frolic until faint spark of day,
flirting with saucy winks and adding, "Hiya, Sun."
As morning draws nigh; moonlight slowly dims.
Luna will crown Sol at horizon's cusp of dawn.
Baronial is his warmth, but now my vision swims.
I'm drowning in a whirlpool, trying not to yawn.
Mystical moon will glow tonight with vivid pomp.
Again, donning a corona, flowing in auras of light.
As sunlight lulls, worn out from his daily romp,
I'll waltz in moonlight, among dazzling stars tonight.
July 16th, 2020
Lipogram Poem Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Emile Pinet
An overachieving college student
with lofty ambitions.
Her education is finally over,
a completion of a complicated puzzle.
A summa cum laude graduate
with two doctorate degrees under her belt.
The sky's the limit, yet she struggles
to decide which fork in the road to take
She stands with her arms akimbo
on the cusp of destiny.
As her eyes search the infinte stars
in the sky, she's wondering "Now what?"
Crossroads Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Silent One (Winner: 3rd Place)
Date written and posted: 09/20/2019
The prelude to a wish,
all time conspired
Eternity on call
—the night on fire
(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2019)
I waiver on the cusp of a dream
while through a keyhole I envision
a gathering of cherubic flowers
perfect faces as innocent as creation.
Pure, guileless faces of all colors and races
earnestly plead with tears in their eyes
"save us!” they softly whisper in unison
then fading to black, I can hear their sad cries.
With a gasp I awaken as the vision unveils
for these flowers are sweet, unborn babes
ruthlessly cut off from the cusp of life
from hands of death they must be saved.
Written on 1/26/2019
ON THE CUSP OF ALBERTO
gray moon’s glazed over
beautiful rain dance of clouds
— umbrella is closed
5/28/2018
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