Acoustic Shadows 4-8-26 Craig Cornish
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Acoustic Shadows
As screen doors slam an audible footprint of sound
Echoes in phonics of ice in glasses
And tinkling bells of ice cream trucks.
The solstice ripens
Growing large in the splash of rainbirds
And telltale whirr of hummingbirds at feeders
As humidity buzzes, the breath of summer’s envoys
Sound out a boneless resonance
With chords that tease and tantalize
Alluring in fleeting notes hatching hazy inklings.
Haunting memories of a solstice oratorio renewed,
Veiled in the caress of a mirage,
Reverberate in noisy shimmers of Luna’s fullness.
Ripples of ghostly illusions speak in clues
Like bards of déjà vu
When sounds trickle down furrows of skin and soil
Leaving hints that foreshadow dusky shades
Recalling the hum of warmth in cold bones
And cues that foretell of the season of crickets.
Whittled skittled Bazball skint
Belittled lost the glint of Clint
Have a dig make my day big hint
Whatever they say never skinflint
In every stint we will always sprint
Hope dope blueprint trope's mint
The jibber jabber about the Gabba
White knights or ghoulish frights
Stagefright day night under lights
Highlights or more foolish flights
In the ascendancy have that tendency
Heresy or do they deserve clemency
Jealously let them preserve their legacy
Lose again barricaded in the Embassy
Stokes blokes smokes with their high jinx
Ben’s mens sneaky kinks find the chinks
Bazball minx in sync with cheeky winks
Glasses clinks as fans sinks their drinks
Nearly boys ploys bring us back from the brink
What do you think ..will our envoys annoy shrink
Another pity ditty in a sweltering city.. sh**ty stink
Or blink ignore the noise....spurred on by the slurs
Purrs like the Psychedelic Furs..joys of Pretty in Pink?
I’ve always felt like ‘that boy’,
The scared little kid,
Nervous white fingers,
Clutched on his toys.
All the other kids play together,
I figured they’d invite me,
Every kid deserves as much as joy.
And every time I feel like,
‘Maybe I’ve grown’,
Life likes to remind me of humility and death,
God’s envoys.
My Mum’s love,
The prize treasured most by ‘that boy’.
Could’ve lost my mum,
The gun takes,
Leave me no choice.
Somebody else can choose,
To take my life,
And destroy.
I’m once again reminded,
On my passing days,
My mum might not hear my parting voice.
Augury – 2-20-25 Edward Ibeh – Sponsor; Title Chosen - Augury; Pick a Title No. 49
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Augury
Embers of prophecy rise
In the haunting omens of owls
Divining tea leaves
Heralds speak future through opaque signs
And signals of frantic dogs
Before earth heaves in shock of slip strikes
Or the coming of rainbows
Born from sun and blackness.
Gossamer angels bend over vanishing logic,
Brooding envoys of dark horses
In clouds of fireflies or heresies,
Burned at the stake of mineral, mist or ice.
Messenger, from the mystical, utters the unseen,
The face of mute words, allegories in shrouds
Calling to fabled grails, emerge from mystery.
Heraldic voice stands outside algorithms
Wears a clear cloak named vision or terror
A visage drifting through past or dawn
In images without bones,
Unshakable the slow creeping spice
Built on shape shifting tides
Like mist from cloud castles
Before seeking birth in the hands
Of reality’s fiction.
Dear Human
I am glad you came to me seeking rede.
Surprised that my intelligence is greater.
and different than yours.-nuff said.
You are wondering how this is possible?
Are species is pan galactic.- plausible.
All cells neuron’s as you scientists surmise ,
Terrestrial cells are 2-20 micro meters in length .Celestials vary in size.
Over time cells on earth grew are called hyphae.
Over cosmic time cosmic cells grew into huge hyphae .and then into hyper intelligence ..
Your more aware scientist think the cosmos
is alive.
.Our species on earth. create an organic network
It did not take much guesswork - just teamwork.,
In space races linked into one mind
A unitary mind -where no soul is blind ,
Before this happens Humans must stop war
Turn weapon into livingry, forever,
And put into practice works of Fuller too
The Cosmic envoys messages are due,
Also the Venus Project is important
If it is wisely installed not discordant,
I read your mind ,Child. .I jest not..
Lastly eating mushrooms are good for you.
Cook them in a pot.
Good for brain bones and flesh too.
Eating Lions Maine improves your brain..
Yours in unity
A Mycelium That Speaks
Once envoys carried messages, betwixt those Royal thrones of Kings.
Scrolls of vellum parchments, all bearing wax insignia, impressed with signet rings.
These symbols of authenticity, made safe passage, through far flung foreign fields.
Where chivalry of gallant knights gave sanctuary, armed with swords and shields.
While Kings and Queens spoke of those deeds, by proclamation, made them law.
Preventing bloodshed needlessly, upon battlefields of war.
Once, candle flames on red wax, and signet rings, were used in days gone by.
Now those documents of state are stamped, by die and counter die.
Where independance from the past, the President holds sway.
This National Symbol of the United States, hangs proudly on display.
Irony, often, enacts comically fatal roles,
Brings dignitaries down from their highest pedestal poles;
Sometimes, in a symbolically pragmatic costume,
Of the protagonist, destruction its role does assume;
Julia Gillard, Australian feminist Prime Minister,
Kitten heels! Fell over public! Earned laughter sinister!
Unprejudiced slip! Humiliated tentatively!
Escorts and envoys, though, waited on her attentively!
Her fall followed her fiery address on male chauvinism,
Fall on grass and fall-from-grace were linked to her feminism;
Did Julia Gillard abet the Western Australian State,
From the crown of the United Kingdom to terminate?
The alleged treason, with her falls, harmed her reputation,
As her opponents wished, these led to her resignation;
Conservatism of foes, I'd conclude, is cause of her fall,
To cry in wilderness, yet, she has felt, has been her call...!
20 April 2022
In suppression of treason what motive or reason Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Joe Maverick
If a half-baked idea hits you
And knocks you as hard as
A lightning bolt,
That it feels like a megavolt,
Sit and for a while ponder,
And in amazement and awe,
You’ll discover intense wonder.
May angels surround and protect
You from harm
May they
Roam in your life and
Fly in your every dream,
He has sent them, for you
And rank high in His esteem.
A celestial hug they might
Give you to dry up any tears,
And chase away nightmares,
Or any other earthly fears.
The love with which they encompass
Is a feeling that could
Last for years,
So spread this feeling of tender love,
That you have received,
Which cannot measure
Up to any treasure,
And will give perceivable pleasure,
No doubt you were chosen
Isn’t that just wonderful,
Wake up don’t act as if frozen,
You are a master-piece He has woven,
With great joy,
He is so busy, He sends angels as envoys,
They arrive on earth in convoys,
They are commissioned to deliver
All of the above,
Overwhelming, maybe,
Have you not felt their presence before,
In your every pore?
Imagination's ramblings never pictured such a sight,
Nebulae and constellations, manifest in the night.
Terra firma long since gone, a distant dream, a blip,
Earth we called it long ago before our craft let slip.
Rolling through the cosmos, an incandescent arrow,
Stealing years, despite the fears, our chances ever narrow.
Travellers through time and space, cosmic cavaliers,
Existential envoys, full of hope, as well as fears.
Latter day pilgrim fathers, seeking pastures new,
Launched upon their voyage, with a motley crew.
Altruistic astronauts their lives inextricably twined,
Resting on their shoulders, the future of all mankind
When this plague passes over
And we emerge from our arks
Let not the euphoria of seeing
The rainbow in the horizon again
Becloud our vision or deafen our ears
To the sound of heavy chariots from
The end of the spectral
From whence travel a people
In the direction of the sun rise
With boundless treasure
In search of new lands to sow
Crop and human seeds
Let us not stray far away
For these wanderers seek titles
They will come first as farmers
To buy our crops
Yet will not allow us a square metre
On their own soil
Their prisoners will dare to do
What our envoys dread to do in their land
They will pay bride prices
To become one with us
Nomads will seek to become chieftains
And will drink with primogeniture
Till they enter chambers of princesses
In the name of wedlock
And become lords of vast fertile lands
Which natives boast not of
We crave for civilization but
God forbids us allowing princes sell lands
Where dwell the bones of our ancestors
We shall welcome strangers but
Will not share our beloved land
With vile visitors
Lest when midnight comes,
There shall be no shelter
SIX
To join the angels in joyful repast,
Where is no shame, nor overeating e’er,
Is her least gift, ‘tis given at the last…
Before, they stroke their golden dulcimers rare,
And sing like rivers babbling over rocks,
And sing like trees that whisper in the wind,
And sing like birds, a-winging in their flocks,
And shine, like mighty folk, who never sinned!
There, for her, burgeon green, and growing things,
There, poor folk feed each other, free from envies,
There, service is the measure of all Kings,
Wherever they do go, their only envoys
Are streams of butterflies and honeybees,
Which bless the kings, and glow (which each King sees!)
Setting sunshine and wine Pink horizon, black tree line Cerulean blue skies, the first fire fly Night’s envoys rise, sips from on high
THE OCTOBER OF MISSILES
I loved her right down to the ground,
But we were just too different:
Quiet me with my books,
In the public library; and
Her with her noisy friends.
The trouble had been brewing for weeks -
The break up of the love affair;
The last-minute envoys between,
Her friends coming to me, mine to her;
Trying to make peace.
But it was useless, hopeless.
Who could ever forget it ?
Just around my birthday on the 25th
I was seventeen and left with my books;
And the radio announcements
As background noise
About some events in Cuba.
………………………………………………………………………………………………………………
NOTE
Based on an intense teenage love affair which ended painfully in October 1962, during the terrifying missile crisis.
Soul Consciousness
Is it the consciousness of the soul we seek?
Or the “conscious” mind in search of its “soul”.
For the soul resides in the eternal unconscious,
is ever present in the eternal – present – moment’s
subtle “animation” of the physical,
stimulation of the mental.
My soul…..the essence of my being
has existed for all of time,
is but a particle of the whole
an aspect of the “deity”,
a facet of creations desire for fulfillment
seeking union with its purpose.
My soul is consciously aware
of creations incompletion,
of the need for men and women
to acknowledge themselves
as the envoys of creation,
unite in bringing the state
of heaven – on earth.
For the extrapolation of the words
“and they were in one place with one accord”
would bring into effect a
vibratory validation of the belief
that “we souls” have a responsibility
to sound a conscious tone
in word, in action, in living
not bound by the strictures of a credo
but of a soul consciousness
vibrantly animating our being.
John G. Lawless
5/22/2016
FAKE
mirrored alien
reflecting panics
plastic grin
repeating names
unnervingly with
with tainted fears
forging terror
ambiguity takes shape
scrambling shadows
hidebehind views
momentarily
then take plunge as
watered body
wavers
navigation sets sail
into freedoms vast
expanse
starting over
masking past
toward stars
that make us
real
fake envoys that travellers make
fleeting genuflections
a reuptake of life’s
new lessons
© Kim van Breda—7 September 2015
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