I emerge from a long night
where mind, muscle and bone
failed to find a place, a posture
quiet and comfortable enough
for sleep. And so I have arrived here,
daybreak on this spring morning
with the resident blackbird
performing his familiar
all to early reveille.
I envy his vigorous rousing
lifted full volume
into the morning silence
as if all nature was called
to stir on command of his voice,
no equivocation or hesitant stall
to doubt the worthiness
of his song.
It holds the chords of his being,
a moment when sound
and self are one, meld
into living art. I gather the bits
and pieces of myself
left by the interrogations
of last night, search for the notes
that contain a little of who I am,
pick up a pen to make
myself into me again.
LANGUAGE SANS EQUIVOCATION
revived
sublime
pre-eminence
follows
rediscovered
coincidences
sans
beginnings
growing
symptomatic
illustrations
to
accompany
colour
between
imagination
& reason
articulated
in
individual
layers
portraying
creativity
Here is a logical summation
Mother Earth is in a state of severe degradation
Each individual really has an obligation
Or face a future full of devastation
Here now is an invitation
Must be done no hesitation
Commence some form of restoration
Now is the time no equivocation
An example Join an organisation that practices reafforestation
For other examples seek information from an on-line investigation
This knowledge should be part of a school education
But that system is too much into indoctrination
Many people are suffering from brain fog constipation
Minds closed no room for alternative negotiation
Pray one day there will be an awakened realisation
People's footprint on this planet planned minimisation
I feel you pulling away, a slow retreat,
Each fleeting moment, my heart feels the heat,
With every hesitation, every word left unsaid,
The fire of my hope flickers, dims, and dreads.
I see your eyes, I know that gaze,
A glimpse of apprehension in a delicate maze,
We've both worn this look, a familiar disguise,
Caught in the silence, where certainty dies.
Equivocation creates a wide, aching space,
A distance we struggle to map or embrace,
The bridges we long for crumble and sway,
While hope tries to reach but gets lost on the way.
Distant and yearning, she calls from afar,
Yet falls into darkness, like a wish on a star,
Perhaps you feel it; this mirror we share,
Are we both just reflecting the weight of despair?
In the chasm between us, where echoes abide,
Do we reach for each other, or silently bide?
For every step backward, I yearn to reclaim,
The warmth of connection, the spark of the flame.
Upon receipt of this paraphrase whenever it visits upon your person--free of dire straits and in trepidation, its infamous adage, "Anything that can go wrong will go wrong," subject to limits.
I've equivocated or tossed-up similarities of circumstances and their eventual outcome via two terse verse coursing, about a couple of other postings below this one.
It is--I strongly advise--recommended reading for matters of consequence hereafter, for such they'd be an exemplar for a better you.
Equivocation is hiding the truth, sway lies your way ... by telling a story, or stories.
If quantum knowledge serves you well, you'll see the clarity--via the obscurity and levity--and the light at the end of its veracity.
I think we're in trouble mate
why, what's wrong
I saw the pilot reading a manual
was it how to land a plane in a storm
no, how to fly one
???---!.
there's no life preservers on this ship, mate
I heard this captain say that the ship has a full complement on board
so what does that mean
well after the ship sinks
we'll just sit tight
with no life preservers
there'll be plenty
just wait a while
give or take ... !
THANKFUL
I am thankful for many things
Unlocking universal truths of life’s journey
we all share
Shared experiences that make me feel connected,
less alone and isolated
In all earnesty
My heart is content with all I have,
this and nothing more
A want for nothing
I confess lack of anything does not exist for me
How could I ask for more?
Abundance is the blessing bestowed upon me
There is always something to be thankful for
without equivocation
I am thankful for friends who infuse my life with meaning
I don’t want to say anything more
but thank you God
For the gift of life itself
I will extract the essence of life out of every experience
and cherish it
Treasure every fleeting happy moment
And for the rest of my life on earth
I will be thankful
For rite of passage into emotional maturity
a rebirth
Sprawling, open,free,desolate even, The vast sky enthralling in waves,correspondent to the plateaus and hills, the depths of which are fascinating even within the trained eye. For this design is focused on the epitome of believing that love doth has a dying voice enveloped inside the inner most of all our beings . Equivocation mysticism as a commodity, but equally inviting , is a heart that is walking into the steps, shadows,whispers and echoes of love. For Footprints of our heart leave a trail of edified, and enamored happiness
The sky is reflected in a flowing stream
In a distorted, rippled effect quite surreal,
One may think of it as a realistic dream.
It’s like hearing the distant church bells peal
On a foggy morning or an overcast day
In a distorted, rippled effect quite surreal.
Observing and listening, as if a call to pray,
There is in them, both, a thing existential
On a foggy morning or an overcast day.
Neither of them, I admit, is inconsequential
Having then a profound effect upon the mind
There is in them, both, a thing existential.
The ordinary appears commonplace, I find,
Until given some afterthought in meditation
Having then a profound effect upon the mind.
These things I can state without equivocation
The sky is reflected in a flowing stream
Until given some afterthought in meditation,
One may think of it as a realistic dream.
Written July 10, 2022
[Edited with some tweaking and editing
by Jenna Logan. Much-appreciated.]
QUINTESSENCE
an absence
of
fervent
intensity
in miniature
with
infinite
equivocation
an ambiance
of impressioned
sensations
a resurgence
of an elide
intermix
apparently
remote
from
abiding concern
obliquely
descended into
a preoccupation
with the sensual
such
eloquent
perfection to
enlighten
the fusion
of continuity
with cohesion
NOTE:THIS IS AN OPEN(organic) FORM VERSE without grammatical symbols the ' open' relies upon 'the one breath limitation' & so inherently requires the 'reader' (reciter) to input and respond thus making the form a two way interplay and often a unique interpretation by the enigma so derived
If you were a poet
how would you write about me?
Would you flaunt my insecurities
or bury them deep?
Would you showcase my demons
or smother them in a blanket of equivocation?
If you were a poet
How would you convey my sorrow?
Would you weave an image of a wave?
Overwhelming. Engulfing. Suffocating.
Or would you imagine it like static?
Static which clouds the mind,
stifling any glimmer of happiness
If you were a poet
Would you change me in any way?
Creating a romanticised version of you lover
or a more truthful, downcast depiction of you sweetheart
If you were a poet
and i was your poem
Would you treasure me?
Would you hang me with pride?
Subjected to the worlds judgemental gaze
Or stash me away?
till all memory of me is buried and neglected
Well, dinner's done
Let's kick back, hon...
--You, sir, set with the sun
But I've just barely begun
Perhaps you'll help with the dishes
No? Not one of your wishes?
So, you can always take out the trash
What? You're afraid it'll splash?
Then how 'bout wiping down the table
I see. Your wrist is suddenly unstable.
Care to drive Johnny to his friend's
On just WHAT does it depend?...
OK, hon: It's time for a true confession
'Cos I'd hate to give you the wrong impression
You see, there's good reason for all of my equivocation
~ Tonight I'm giving a speech on women's liberation
POTD 7 Oct 2020
Step ever so light
Into this treacherous night
Creatures that abandon the day
come out to play
Hear those June winds howl
To the hoot of an owl
the candle flame flickers
' forewarned is forearmed'
There is corruption at play
In this treacherous night
Step ever so light,
ever so light
The long arm of
equivocation favours
Wrong over Right
As ordered lives fray
The spinning wheel turns
Casting shadows upon
The power of the judge
Will he unravel?
While a Puppeteer
holds the mighty gavel
The blind eye is turned
As the forged scales tip
towards the stolen people
Self-imposing chosen sheeple
To play ball they crawl
The Universal teachings
they fail to recall
In this treacherous night
that steals your Soul
Step ever so light
ever so light
by Maria Williams
6/10/20
POTD 7 Oct 2020
alone
submersed in solitude
I probe the shadows of attitude
intellect is known to query
aspirations known to roam
from unexpected mind excursions
to my final journey home
on this voyage
there is no pardon
equivocation or excuse
I set the course
no reservations
ignored forgiveness and abuse
for I the man as a man
on the road that is my path
gave my absolute acceptance
unbound by life’s depleting wrath
my fate
direction and the given
were far too often
folly driven
...for Carson McCullers
Terse language
scored to the bone
with no leftovers;
pouring sorrow into
every crucial word
without a shred of platitude.
She faced her ghosts
with grace and fortitude,
placing hope and loss
in perfect symmetry,
embracing solitude.
Straight to the heart
she spoke the truth,
with no equivocation
or careless gesture.
Terse language scored to the bone
with naught leftover,
truth suffusing every word
without a shred of platitude.
She faced her challenges with fortitude,
hope and loss a perfect blending,
straight to the heart she spoke her mind,
no careless gesture or equivocation.
Last Modified: October 06, 2015 at 04:45 pm
© bickerstaffe - all rights reserved
Author Notes
...for Carson McCullers, author of 'The Heart Is A Lonely Hunter.'
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