I'm here for the critiqueful, with an eclectic
Resum'e not quite yet-full.? Interested in pure
Poetry ' raw un-bridled full emotively ' such essence
I pursue.. Sometimes energetically.' Other times
It indeed (corners me') evaporating all that is me
Till i am but, aware of a great vacancy.' That allows
For much thought vagrancy.' I gasp and out-grasp
And also mentally.' At the birth of vocabularies
Eventfully distending, my awareness and creduality.'
Draw close reader...Tell me of your current
Observancy.?
Quiet-falls
Dark quells the last light
Streets sleep in a hush
Midst, an opaque hush descends
Nothing-moves
Veils draw close
Old mind garden fades
Memories blur and shift
A cold and silent hand erases
The path back.g of Midnight
The world dissolves
Into a soft, shapeless gray,
A memory made real,
Where the streetlights become dying moons
Then vanish
Emerging from my teens
I had a head full
of ghosts to escape from -
inhabitants of an inner world
I kept to myself. Future life
was over there,
at the end of a train line,
a long road, the last port
of call on a ship's long voyage.
I could never get far enough
away - they always
found me hiding in some
masquerade, a clever cover
concocted to conceal -
at times I even fooled myself.
Mirrors were a bane,
they told the truth
and so I learned to look away.
A lifetime on
they are still with me but now
I know each by name.
There are days
when they draw close
and become weepy
as if seeking love,
though still afraid to leave
the refuge of my shadow.
I’m ushered into a new day,
I walk along its path,
As I long to be embraced by its elements,
I pray to find the door to the light of redemption.
Nothing is within my strength to accomplish,
I’m like a turbulent sea,
Hoping to find tranquillity in the day I’m privileged to see,
I pray, Lord, for rest from my chaotic thoughts.
How do I know if my devotion carries a worthy fragrance?
I’m just clay seeking acceptance from the Potter,
I’m only dust yearning for a place in the palm of the Immortal One,
I desire to drink from the river of Your pleasure, O Lord.
How can I change the tide?
I’m encumbered, entangled, and entwined,
O Lord, hear my deepest cries,
Bring me into Your light as I draw close to You.
March 14, 2025.
I hold three magic rocks, in my hand
Rolling them over and over and over
Leaving this reality behind, far behind
I ride on a sound Arabian stallion
He takes me to snow mountain
Where snow trees are stunned
by cold wind
I get down by a swirling stream
I walk with him downhill
Where I see Lynx and Bear
busy fishing
Off again on our course free
I ride at ease gracefully
I see a palace at a distance
My heart set racing
We draw close to the mansion
I see a delicate princess
Walking elegantly in rose garden
Blushing wind
She was singing to a chickadee
Birds were chirping to her
As butterflies danced on flowers
Enchanting
I took my three magic rocks
Wrapped in silk, I sent her as gift
With a note that read, ‘Be so
Blessed dear, walk in truth’
‘A rock for good health be
A rock for good life be
A rock for divine blessings be’
Amen
Even before she could read my note
I was riding away on my stallion
Who flew faster like falcon
Down the mountain
What trembling light,
what quiver of eternity
gleamed in the shepherds' eyes,
unaware heralds of an hour
that would shatter time
like a vessel overflowing with heaven.
You wish for the transparency
of that intact heart,
naked of pride and fear,
to draw close to the threshold
of the cave,
where the earth breathes
the miracle that overshadows it.
You long for eyes of crystalline wonder,
pure as the first morning,
to seize the whisper
that transforms the world,
the silent song
that illuminates every distance.
You yearn for trembling lips,
almost like dawn,
to stammer the name
that fills and dissolves everything,
while the star keeps watch,
high, invincible,
above the abyss of time.
Yet that moment belonged
only to the shepherds,
the first fruits of the waiting
of all humanity.
History will not return,
but a threshold remains open,
and if you come much later,
it does not matter:
the mystery awaits.
It is enough to make your heart
another manger,
a womb of silence,
where the Infinite
may be incarnated again.
DRAW CLOSE
colour
your mood
EXPLORATIONS
divergent
transition
extinguish
in
surroundings
with
echoes
defined
&distinctive
crytalising
the
symbolic
patterns
fused
alongside
the
geometrical
harmony
revealed
in
deeper
things&
draw close
PRESENT-MOMENTS
different
facets
particularly
stylistic
intense
& preoccupied
enclosed
focussed
in
a
sweeping
panorama
of
naturalistic
simplicity
of
common
consciousness
closely
linked
in enthusiastic
cultures
of
imagination
OBJECTIVES
in
realistic
representation
implicated
by
characteristic
emphasis
of the
naturalistic
& contemporary
motifs
in
uniform
focus
schematically
displayed
panoramically
&
monumental
in expression
of attitude
poised
& orientated
in
visionary
emotion
of a dream
On earthen shores are treasures
Of love, of joy, of life
A family's forever bond
The children, Husband, Wife
Treasure troves of memories
Within' these earthen treasuries
The blessed earthly life of years
And yet, can break, and rush to tears
The tears like diamonds fall like the sands
Lift them Father, within Your hands,
The broken hearts in sorrows weep
And in Your love, please. Father, keep
Those washed in tears sweet memories
Flows from earthen treasuries
Comfort the broken, draw close and near
Drying, every diamond tear
Amen
Let me see those two eyes shine
Like South Africa’s Gold Mine;
For weeks you had had to pine
Over what makes voices whine,
Your lips distanced from Red wine;
From what you would on them dine.
Love’s seat you draw close to mine,
Love arms round my waist entwine;
Would both mean lending lifeline
Brow freeing of the squeezed line
A phone still holding its line?
The Phoned still on the right line?
Then, to both I say quite fine!
All that I haveth just thine’
You’ll live your life – a Cat’s Nine,
To all fluids taste except brine …
Let me see those two eyes shine
Like South Africa’s Gold Mine.
I have never told you how I feel,
Only through love is life made real,
I would never let you into my heart,
You've never left me; we were not apart.
I intend to abandon my nomadic status,
I inspect the finances, but no apparatus,
I love quiet in my heart, or rather, loudly,
If I could see us rapt, I'd dream proudly.
Spare me from the agony of heartache,
In my life, I've never felt what's at stake,
To embrace you is my ultimate dream,
Any time you draw close, I crave to scream.
To slump you a piece of heaven to settle,
I might tell you how much I can handle.
Written: January 16, 2023
Should a woman put on trousers?
Yep: ones that don’t men make browsers:
That let Top Secrets remain secret;
Documents eyes should not just meet:
Trousers that won’t hatch Internets,
Lust cause to beat its castanets…
Trousers fully masking Womanhood,
Easily The Misunderstood:
Sometimes, seeming to say “Draw close,
So that you may pick up your Rose…
Women may be free with trousers
But trousers could turn howitzers:
Pastors and Imams gunning down,
Priests causing to smile who should frown,
Maiden forcing to dump her gown;
Strongly shake the firmest crown!
And may men put on the skirt?
Yeah: if their trousers packed up dirt
And nearing it could image hurt
Worse than a woman’s for Shirt.
Swaddled in a grey woollen scarf
Soft rain falling gently on your face.
Crows CACKLING in the trees overhead
Tipping leaves, laden with droplets,
DRIPPING like heavy tears,
SMACKING the concrete path below.
You sigh as you draw close to me
FLICK your cigarette, take a draw.
Hands trembling, you open the car door
The CLUNK of metal breaks the hush.
A train RUMBLES in the distance.
The scent of your chanel perfume
OOZES into the frost chilled car.
Outside a gaggle of nurses
CHATTER and FIZZ after work.
I turn to you and MURMER ,
Fumbling for words like a fool,
You WHISPER clasping your hand round mine,
“ I’ll be alright - the tumours benign.”
Onomatopoeia Poetry Contest
Sponsor - Emile Pinet
eveything glows
is reflectve
nothing happens
garlands of blossom
the wonder of it all
cowslips in flower
buttercups bloom
colour
shines golden
in the heart of nature
visible
vulnerable
tender warm&
true
that
something special
look
more closely
at
beautiful shapes
unsophiticated
draw close
to the looking glass
of nature
splashed
with love
brings out tenderness
entirely possessed
by
the rhythm of the day
watching
we marvel
in patience &hope
each morning
a happening
to feel
as day
succeeds day
the invisible
hidden from sight
as summer
grows within
Light the skies with a thousand lights and bolts
dismember every fear and talk to the stars
watch the golden orbs appear from far remote
and glide yourself home down the river of Oz
Feel every stroke, draw close to the waters edge
remember your place in the sun , the yesterdays
that brought you grace and youth,
chide with the fairies and the angels on high
Dream as big as you dare my lovely human
navigate and journey as you fall afresh
pamper your heart on this one special night
and light the sky, with a thousand lights...
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