“The word Om is like the sky, it is not the discernment of the essence of high and low. How can there be enunciation of the point of the word (Om) which annuls the manifestation of the Unmanifest?”
Manifestation springs from the gong Om,
wherefrom arises entire creation,
soundless bliss thunder in the heart, our home,
felt by our presence as God’s vibration.
We may say that Om mirrors God’s heartbeat,
life pulse that renews itself in itself,
source of aliveness and magnetic heat,
known beyond space-time as the light of Self.
Waves of the ocean, always in motion,
as are all planets orbiting the sun,
prayerful devotion sans commotion,
signals that consciousness is in truth one.
Navigating life maze with zest and zeal,
in-breath and out-breath has the same appeal.
IMAGISM exact enunciation sans adjectivial disclosure
You’re an inspiration of God’s grace.
It shows all over your smiling face.
Such bewilderment and dynamic amazement
Touching humanity with such ordainment
You’re an aspiration from God’s dynamic place.
Where birds, bees, flowers, and trees embrace.
Such unity of oneness uplifts precious souls
Reaching heights, yet never told, now unfolds
You’re a supplication from God’s vibration.
That which touches creation with astounding dedication.
Springing forth life, multiplying, astounding, jubilation
Cherubim celestial celebration of angelic enunciation
You’re a quilted tapestry of God’s precious love.
The heart of humanity unfolds such a majestic dove.
Where have you been? Behind which cloud?
Ah—enlightenment seen! A marvelous vision unshroud!
You’re, you’re, you're…!
You're...You're...You're...!
You're an inspiration of God's grace.
It shows all over your smiling face.
A bewilderment and dynamic amazement
Touching humanity with such ordainment
You're an aspiration from God's dynamic place.
Where birds, bees, flowers, and trees embrace.
Such unity of oneness uplifts precious souls
Reaching heights, yet never told, now unfolds
You're a supplication from God's vibration.
Which touches creation with astounding dedication.
Springing forth life, multiplying, astounding, jubilation
Cherubim celestial celebration of angelic enunciation
You're a quilted tapestry of God's precious love.
The heart of humanity unfolds such a majestic dove.
Where have you been? Behind which cloud?
Ah--enlightenment seen! A marvelous vision unshroud!
The poet police pay attention to
punctuation, they patrol pauses,
comas, and correct enunciation..
The poet police prefer prolific
prose, perfumy pendants so
pen one of those..
Be mindful of what type of
poem you compose.
Pay attention to your tone,
and never ever park your poems
in a no poetry parking zone.
will to be diff’rent
fractals with cursive curlicues
cream-colored overalls
ostracized by nuns
and formal catechisms
with habitual fashion sense
now I’m in control
spinning like a pinwheel
with poetic enunciation
showed them, showed them all
i could take off my uniform
it’s monotone gray
Foolproof recipe faux fudge
Who wants to be called
foolish even for starters?
Every dummkopf can read!
Proof is recipe's enunciation!
Poetry is the push behind
the wave – the brilliance
sparking light –
the poet, a wonder-er
and wanderer...drawing
illumination from wells
of glistening shadows –
never pondering
the where and when,
his focus always toward,
the Almighty How...
Never seeking the there and then,
making of complex mysteries
bite-size, digestible pieces --
compositions of an omnipotent God's,
ever illusive, Eternal Now...
no work of mere description
will do...
each ensuing articulation, an evolution –
as Darwin observed his Galapagos,
like so, all creation evolves by man's
conscious and unconscious sensing –
The poet, no predetermined
puppet; but, in fact, a Literary Diviner –
believing his practice – man's personal
enunciation through his ever
greater
revelation
of words –
dipping his fanciful
quill into the ink of a
publishing universe – dripping
reams of infinite pages – poetry,
our intimate voice of never-ending
possibilities...
All I do is be set in some form of pandemonium.
I'm sick of the same ripe, dull daily mind-numbing
How will I be urged if I lose my equilibrium?
Is life's symbiosis likely to be tedious scaling?
Everything appears to me to be rendered nugatory.
Similar to a grave where a covered body is decaying.
With a driven heart, I have for you high expectancy.
Since I induced the fantasies around your trembling.
What's extra, I hear you moaning in the wings, enunciation,
"I'm a long way from your stream; continue to scratch."
My heart is for the domain of passion, its constitution.
For what reason did you peruse it with a skewed outmarch.
Eros won't permit his sprouts to be stifled cautiously.
I opine he'll be revolted by your outrageous peculiarity.
Written: September 3rd 2021
Words will always retain their power when properly used.
Words offer the means to meaning,
and for they who will listen,
the enunciation of truth.
Words in and of themselves alone are meaningless,
but when words are properly powerfully expressed,
the power of words can change the entire world for the best.
Make love to me with
your poem, your poetry.
Flow slowly do not rush it.
not so fast.
Let your words last.
Stroke me slowly
Put your back into it.
Caress my totality
Draw me into your world
let me succumb –
To your glib poetic tongue.
I hear your commands
As you slowly express
how capable you are
Expanding my mind
taking me places I've never been
Firmly holding me in the grips
of your suspense.
I was tense
Waiting for the end – you, let me
down gently as your poem ended.
I bask in the aftermath of a poetry bath
Thinking of the ecstasy of
where your poetry took me.
I let down my hair because
you swoon creativity
I get off on your enunciation
and affections- inflections
Word erections-sensitivity
and vulnerability;
Allowing me to feel every word-
as you speak slowly…
you enter me with your "diction".
Slow and easy you speak to me
Stroking me with your poetry...
You took me to peaks
of ecstasy with your
sweet glib tongue
and that's why
I let you make ...
Make sweet Poetry to me…
I think it is funny how OFTEN we are wrong,
How we don’t speak the right way,
How words that are written throughout the LIBRARY,
Aren’t the words that we say,
From FAUX PAS to ALMOND, to ET CETERA,
GENRE, and FILM, and BOUTIQUE,
Commonly miss said, uttered all wrong,
Razing the way that we speak,
I think it’s important we clean up this CHAOS,
Our enunciation becomes understood,
And we clean away DEBRIS of mispronounced words,
That we talk, you know… proper and good.
Adversity
'I need a word; I need a enunciation to exclaim'
Albeit I lack them
I need ear to hear echoes also sounds,
Circumstance holds everything bound
Assorted terminologies of facilitation, certainty and belief
Nothing accumulated lone mounted reef,
Tear coursed like brook inside
Nothing heard than rest in peace beside,
Resonance of tear; aches and cries,
Authority brought no deduction, without any assays
Temporary camps and houses all over,
Numerous loss, destruction nothing could cover
Abraded land, ways and house
Senators here are mute and louse,
Like mole of orifices and mouse
So, I need a stage, a rage and craze
'I need a word; I need a enunciation to exclaim'
But I lack them
Make love to me with
your poem, your poetry.
Flow slowly do not rush it.
not so fast.
Let your words last.
Stroke me slowly
Put your back into it.
Caress my totality
Draw me into your world
let me succumb -to your glib tongue
I hear your commands
As you slowly express
how capable you are
Expanding my mind
taking me places I've never been
Firmly holding me in the grips
of your suspense.
I was tense
Waiting for the end – you, letting me
down gently as your poem ended
I bask in the aftermath of a poetry bath
Thinking of the ecstasy of
where your poetry took me.
I let down my hair because
you swoon creativity
I get off on your enunciation
and affections- inflections
Word erections-sensitivity
and vulnerability
Allowing me to feel every word-
as you speak slowly
you enter me with your "diction".
Slow and easy you speak to me
Stroking me with your poetry...
You took me to peaks
of ecstasy with your
sweet glib tongue
and that's why
I let you make ...
Make sweet Poetry to me…
© Vicki Acquah
Shrubbery is critical for survival
An absolute emergency
The most urgent crisis in existence
The human condition! The human condition! Think!
The most important thing in the universe!
Chant it one hundred times per night while chewing crackers
A chair is optional when morning comes
Contemplate due diligence, care, when sharing it
Tenderness is required at all times
Shrubbery is kind and wise
An absolute imperative is to love your shrub
Capital tools should be utilized when planting
Capital letters apply when writing SHRUBBERY
Slow enunciation, syllabification when speaking it is law
Improper elocution equals execution and sometimes death
Smile when pronouncing it
Whisper gently to it and it will answer back
“Bushes are bushes.” “Trees are trees.” “We are Shrubbery.”
“Genuflect before each bush.”
“Respect your Shrubbery.”
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