Long ere the smoking pyre the soul has left,
A rain of starlight seeking heavy clay,
To sail the cosmic stream with newborn craft,
‘Pon washing mundane memories away.
Haply ensconced within a narrow room,
It keeps vigil in vault of pulse and blood,
A mere witness as if within a womb,
Inured to rushing of a crimson flood.
The phantom seal begins to stir and wake,
The sleeping seeds of old desires bloom,
A brand new mask the ancient ghost will take,
To walk the stage of cradle, birth, and tomb.
The infant cries, forgetting all the past,
Yet bound by chains it forged when living last.
________________________________
Spiritual | 02.10.2007, revised Sept 2026| birth, life, memories, soul, Sonnet
Let the rain kiss you
Let the rain beat upon your head with silver liquid drops
Let the rain sing you a lullaby
~Langston Hughes
The clouds spill a thousand secrets
but keep ten thousand regrets
ensconced within the billowy frames
of a life lived with all its shames.
The shame of greed,
the shame of need,
the shame of selfishness,
the shame that leads to wretchedness.
I’ve been told that clouds are wise
and provide the waters to baptize,
drown the sins that keep us bound
And set our feet on higher ground.
Grim Reaper Grim Reaper
Come to awaken the dreamless sleeper
With gown of black and scythe in hand
Beside one’s soul you’ll patiently stand.
Assured of one’s soul I know you’ll wait
Your beckoning portends one’s morbid fate
Escorting one from this world to the next
Never likely to runout of guests.
Modern man lives ensconced in ignorant bliss
Until jolted by death’s cold passionless kiss
Come and awaken the dreamless sleeper
Grim Reaper Grim Reaper.
It’s there
Y’know
Like the aftermath of pop corn
Stuck
Irretrievably
Ensconced
Imbedded
In the grinding mechanism
Dodging the gnash
Of frustration need
Y’know
That pesky poetic seed
Tormenting synaptic calm
Buzzing like a 2AM mosquito
Humming an unheard song
Dancing on the edge of a thought
Whispering in the silence
Of poetic lethargy
Arise, oh muted muse,
Grasp the trembling gauntlet
Lend it purpose
Suit it in poetic armor
Mount your steed
LET THE JOUSTING BEGIN
#10 on top 100 recent poems as of June 30, 2025
I see a dark cypress
towering in front of me
and behind it is a village
The tiny town
is wrapped in blue -
the blue of a night
that captures my imagination
a saffron crescent moon
and stars like balls
of miniature suns citrine-spiraled
wink at me
through yellow curly cues
I want to swirl with them
through the sky
which is water-color whorled
a steeple church
and houses sapphire-hued
sit ensconced beneath
undulating hills
fed by comfort -
I wish to snuggle
inside this scene
with Vincent’s stars
dancing in the vortex
of my slumbering mind
I take classes in quilting on Zoom;
Quite a challenge, you’d likely assume,
But we all seem to know
How to basically sew,
Which allows us to grow and to bloom.
Before Covid, we met face to face
At a spacious spread-out downtown space.
Now we’re all on a screen
With a weekly routine,
Each ensconced in her very own place.
Our instructor, who’s really the best,
Runs the class from her home way out west.
Several others have moved
But technology’s proved
That our questions are all still addressed.
So we sit and we stitch and we share,
Holding projects so we can compare
What we’ve finished, with pride;
The computer will hide
My mistakes, for which I have a flair.
SANGUINE SENILITY-:-
twilight
embroidered
decreptitude
reminiscence
ephemeral
of AGELESS NAÏVE AURA
afflatus
ensconced
terminality
ambiguity
enshrined
in CRUMPLED CANVAS
petrified
buoyancy
portrayed
optimistic
senescence
Compassion, thy blessings.
Within all three take root.
No use second-guessings.
Just give the end a toot.
Bitterness, thy blizzard.
Blight, blanket all you see.
Bane, gibbous thy gizzard.
Belladonna, be.
Blistering sun ray, fire it up!
Make it happen fast!
Goddess, covenant and cup!
Please be meant to last!
Yellow rose, thy desert storm.
Lightning, crash and burn.
Volcano, lava in form.
Tamarisk, taciturn.
Reincarnation, station.
Seance, ensconced. Trounced.
Lost souls red dead, creation.
How the ball has bounced.
Tale, never end. Fickle, friend?
They cannot defend.
Broken are those which ne'er bend?
To the devil send.
Ankle broken, mend? Quite slow.
Maybe not at all.
Guard of treasure, way to go?
Brother, I may call.
Hawk, thy eye. Run real reply.
Reconcile, rely.
Doubt, thy torment. Constant cry.
Wave, O tops of rye...
I stand overwhelmed
By the freshness
of the morning dew
Which surpasses
The fragrance of lavender
Of morning roses.
The screaming winds
A fortiori
The raised curtains
Walls without roofs
‘Entrez’ pandemonium?
‘Je suis levre au regard’
Parabolique trajectoire
The missing golden thread
The shooting star hurtles through the sky
Footpaths to nowhere
Who can toe this line ?
A real pity.
I stand overwhelmed
Ensconced at their wits’ end
Puissant proof of glory
Vitriolic outbursts of misdirected anger
I stand overwhelmed.
Ex-KGB prime minister then president
twice.? Entered into Minsk accords..
Watched many countries from
The old Warsaw pact shorn.'
Did allow a con-vid response.' Yet no
coercion or shaming, no fear ensconced
Not as i could have expected, it to be.?
Then in early twenty, twenty two, put a
Military force into Ukrainian sectors
All pro-Russian i'd say; thats quite true.'
Banned transgender and same sex
coupling, he gets disparaged..He appears viewed
From outside, a determined leader.' Internally
I undamaged' What
Effects will be engendered, how long will
He linger.? Will he deter
another world war? Almost by default.? Whats waiting in
Store? I remember the old cold war.' Claim and
Counter.? I'd rather that, than continents
burst asunder.? I view the scenes and hope
Some sense.? Could things cool down.? I
Forget recompence..And for what.? I plead
No war..Neither big nor small. They are counter productive chores."
On the first day of Christmas
'twas a silent night 'neath yonder star
(while shepherds watched their flocks)
when three Wise Men traversed afar
to view a new-born child
as in a fairy tale storybook fable
(away in a manger)
ensconced in a stable
all the while bearing gifts
yet although a total stranger
they did leave him their presents
under the tree where they belong
(there in Bethlehem)
but before departing they sang this song...
'Happy birthday to you
happy birthday to you
happy birthday dear Jesus
happy birthday to you'
We fall not prey to ego’s ploy,
so we dwell in peace, full of joy.
Notice there’s no energy leak,
when dancing with love cheek to cheek.
The world external, we’ve let go,
having relinquished our ego,
yet we’re strong, not feeble and weak,
when dancing with love cheek to cheek.
Life is but a dream, played in jest,
wherein we’re ensconced in heart’s nest.
There’s no desire now left to seek,
when dancing with love cheek to cheek.
Love and light within heart abounds,
music of spheres in us resounds;
in streams of bliss we dip our beak,
when dancing with love cheek to cheek.
I could murder a curry, Death mumbled under his voice
A Terry Pratchett icon in his fantastic discworld universe
Imagination…the inspiration of many
This legend awe inspiring…
Every book, every tale
Breathing new life into each
Even as his was failing
A small token of homage
For soo many hours spent
Ensconced in his world
All his characters my friends
Feeling familial traits even in luggage, the many legged suitcase
I explore tiffs world with her little blue men
And my heart broke with all, when granny Weatherwax saw her end
My favourite character to be sure, i cried and cried
I only lived that book once as it crushed me inside
So I re read the old tales where she’s living a new
All the while feeling that her character was you
I broke just as much, when I heard you were gone
The end of an era, new tales now anon
A tribute to my favourite author anew
We all drop our hats..
Terry Pratchett it’s you
During life’s sunset years, in slowdown mode,
sidestepping environs that provoke strife,
our tranquil soul dwells in God’s heart abode,
invoking love mists that make us bliss rife.
Kindly eye looks at all with compassion,
tolerant to fault even if we’re scorched,
because where we dwell, love is in fashion,
wayward ego having long since been torched.
As dawn turns to dusk and night shifts to day,
with thoughts at rest and no load on our chest,
to the light that lights all lights, as we pray,
our presence is ensconced in heart’s bliss nest.
Having renounced desire, soul free from stain,
has broken free from earth life’s karmic chain.
EARTH, THE LAST HOPE
As I look back on my life
I look forward to today’s memories
ensconced in my yearning to return to that time
when my father and brother would lay on our rooftop
under the awning of the majestic firmament
ogling the countless myriad constellations
listening to father tell us tales of the constellation Orion
a place where our ancestors came from
looking for a friendly place that contained no enemies
was alive with tranquility flourishing abundantly
this earth seemed the right place
as I look back on the history of how we devastated this planet
I think maybe colonizing earth wasn’t the right thing to do
after all, we are human, known as the scourge of the universe,
but with good intentions.
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