Filaments Poems | Examples

A Glorious Death

A Glorious Death
~
The light bulb flickers.
Still, I do not move.
I could turn over and look the other way
but there is beauty in death.
I watch from my bed, with curiosity.
I can hear the creaking of the filaments
as they are about to break,
like a wounded animal
crying to the night sky
with the darkness encroaching
and the wolves licking their lips.
It won't be long now.
The intervals between are growing longer.
Soon, the bulb will cease to burn.
The shadows will consume the bathroom
and my eyes will adjust,
becoming those of a night creature,
making out the shapes that
hide under the blanket of night.
A crackle startles me, then a brilliant
buzz of electricity sparks-
a pop signals the bulb's inevitable demise.
The coils recede, blackened and singed.
It is over. It was a glorious death.
The light bulb flickers, no more.
~

BLT

An Evening Composition

The noise of the day
has subsided and folded
into a quiet
under the soft covers
of a July evening.
The eyes seem to resist
the particular and instead
focus on nothing 
but the sum - the glow 
from shore lights 
smudged on water,
the dark sky powdered
with translucent clouds
and the faint filaments 
of stars strung out overhead.

Tonight, I don't want 
the granular detail of things
to steal my attention
but to enjoy the blending,
the stand back meld
of colors, of each stroke,
forming a picture transcending
its parts. I want to feel
the evening being
put together
into a boundless whole,
to be beyond 
the smallness of myself
and be absorbed totally
into the mystery
of the composition

Ink

The ink of storms wreaks havoc on the unturned page.
Pulped filaments flop face-lessly before eyes once warm, yet frigid cold.

Daring not to expect much to read or write,
I stare blankly from the aughts of night. 

Stars are but memories from books,
Overshadowed by polluted distances, smudged by the burn of business bustling below in the barrel. 

Fish flop, and folios fold upon themselves, as the Sun circles this tip-toed Sphere.

My mind seems diagonal to the lines within this verse; un-unitarian against the it that I am not of.

Am I the ink?
The reader?
Or do I draw its lines?

I've not felt the sense to be, see, nor write, so what is it that am I? 

A passerby upon the paragraph, pretending to play in presents performed en troupe. 

Pathetic.

The Artist

  Wide eyes cast their gaze upward 
    ‘Today’s Spider Web’ mocks him 

  Eight spindly filaments weave a web
    Are these hands not as delicately bred

How fragile we are

I sit and watch the twilight 
In vaulted heaven burns brittle stars
I feel the rush of wind 
It cares the ash of pine 
I feel the movement of the earth 
In rivers of darkness flow
I feel the cosmic birth

How fragile we are
I know the tilt of the universe 
In seas of oblivions void
I touch the ground it trembles 
I see what is in between the fragments
In moments beyond thought
I see echoes of images from afar

How fragile we are 
I taste the abstract firmament
I watch the collapse of a neutron star
In coldest nights of darkest wind
I feel the ties that bind slip away 
It carries the filaments of decay 
I know the passage of soul

How fragile we all are 
In movements of the metronome 
In oceans of reality
I feel the slipping away
I wish I could stay
In the aftermath of life

I see how fragile we all are

BINARY

A rustling of digital leaves 
in the binary breeze.

Odd fractals of ones and zeros 
crash in waves of a subliminal sea.

Rotations of carbon and nanowires 
collecting in my shadow. 

Ghost of man-made reality 
in matrices of ions.

The light of a binary universe in transit.

Coils of cool light drifting 
through my Silicon Soul.

A leaf curves and descends 
into decaying isotopes.
 
I feel the event horizon 
of god’s information overload.

A rustling of skeletal circuitry 
in a binary breeze.

All is not what it seems: odd filaments 
of nanites and nanoseconds.

Feeling the rush of cold 
in a binary breeze along subliminal seas.

For You

For you I am here
being cooled by this breeze
coming in off the water, soul deep
in an evening breaking out in stars,
being soothed by the soft sound
of lapping waves filtering through 
the muted air.

And for you I take in the sky strung 
with the filaments of creation,
the moon veiled by a thin gauze 
of glowing cloud and see
in a long, faintly brushed ribbon 
of light, the edge of our galaxy
stretched out above.

And so,
I have become the means
for you to feel this evening,
its unfolding in time and space,
whilst you remain hidden
from me, unreachable 
behind the impenetrable silence 
of eternity.

God is not in his heaven

As he has lost his way
And we’re all his figments 
of his imagination
Lost in the hidden 
sea of sorrows 
were shadows dwell
We wander into infinity 
Following trails of cosmic dust
Finite and afraid 
We sit in wonder and despair 
We deny our lust
For god is not in his house 
Nor on his throne 
of light and shadow, as shades parade 
He is here next to me, as quiet as a mouse 
Playing chess with angels and demons 
Only a candle marks our time, our movements
To the metronome 
I feel my soul roam
In the darkness far above 
It is dusty in white
Shimmering arms of grace
I know the fine filaments of time
Like intricate lace
For he has forgotten 
Our face, he is not in his heaven 
As we have lost our way!

RUNNING RACES CRACKING CODES

RUNNING RACES CRACKING CODES 

No disgruntled dissonance 
between dimensions 
sliding down sigils
galaxies of glories
listening to lilies 
lyricing to Lilith
flow of filaments
consenting to classify 
eyes like echoes 
running races
cracking codes so
that Source can
claim His-Her 
crystals into
5D carols


©GhairoDanielsPoetry&
Song2024

Earth Interval

     Typecast pivot rips past apart
     Scars inflicted by the furnace 
     Scatter derma with war stars
     Astronomy faraway magnifies 
     Little shards of light filaments
     Filtered shadow breaks brittle 
     

     Tucked amongst terra, tubers
     Crowd needy until seeker turns
     Space ahead academy shunned
     Parallel gripped group tightens 
     Outrage stoops, begger’s plight 
     Entombed below fossilised earth

 
     Dust skull sockets consumed
     Grazing on ash grain garbage
     Gamma ray gardener unfazed
     Leans into lambent movement 
     Moonbeam harvest penetrates
     Microscopic split creates twins


     Mind unbound by tribulations
     Scales ether, nova knowledge 
     Constellation inured in growth 
     Reaches for chaos, apex prime
     Shivers bravely beyond Pluto
     Fragility faces future undiluted





      First of October 
        Flying Over

Sleeping Outside

A week of summer heat
with no cooling breeze
or break made bedrooms 
like brick kilns 
still hot after a day's firing.
You couldn't sleep.
Air conditioning back then
was a couple of loud,
clunking fans that blew
a hum of hot air.

To get relief
we would all sleep outside
on the back lawn on hessian
camping beds that sagged
and creaked even under
a child's weight. The night air
carried a slight damp
and the hint of a breeze.

I can remember laying back
under a blaze of stars,
giddy and full of questions 
at such wonder strung 
in filaments overhead. 
Uncertainty and doubt 
had begun to pick 
my childish world apart. 
I would grip the sides
of the bed possessed by
a strange sense 
that if I let go, I would fall
upwards into the sky.

I could never get to sleep
even when a cool came 
upon the early morning air.
There were too many
sounds I could not explain
and shadows my mind 
would shape into threats.
I would creep back inside,
back into a walled safety
and the heat.

Flame Of Water

Like the semblance of an oil painting 
This flame of water
Imagines filaments of silk sapphire
Curling in cobalt spirals
And tendrils of azure fire 
In a clear-blue watery haze
That sees the day

Visions of cool blue swirls 
Absorb eternal transparencies
And grapple with the silver sword
Of rising discontent,
Immune to the flames that tear with words
The fabric of intent

Wavering slightly with a gentle roar
It shimmers lightly in the air, this water flare,
A smokeless breath defining
A moment of stalled momentum,
A flickering resolution
To quench the vapor trails
Of heat’s prerogatives

NATURE’S CRIES OUT TO GOD AMIDTS BLUE WHITE SKIES

Visionary third eyed spied;
Baby blue cream lavender skies;
Cool fluffy wind sails clouds;
Birds in trees shout, praise God;

Speaking language to Elohim;
I fell blessed, nature’s voices;
Enlightening me, gives me hope;
And hope in…Hoping at least best, I find my rest;

Glazing at the skies, brightly shines;
Daylight man can’t fly without jets or planes;

 Blindly I smell the crisps atmosphere dons;
White filaments cotton wood candy puffs;
Brilliants so shines the white silver yellow sun;
Birds in trees shout, praise God His love-such;

Baby blue cream lavender skies;
Cool fluffy wind sails clouds;
Birds in trees shout, praise God cause-;
Visionary third eyed spied aloud;
Glazing at the skies, brightly shines brightest plains;
Daylight man can’t fly without jets or planes;

NATURE’S CRIES OUT TO GOD AMIDTS BLUE WHITE SKIES

NATURE’S CRIES OUT TO GOD AMIDTS BLUE WHITE SKIES

Visionary third eyed spied;
Baby blue cream lavender skies;
Cool fluffy wind sails clouds;
Birds in trees shout, praise God;

Speaking language to Elohim;
I fell blessed, nature’s voices;
Enlightening me, gives me hope;
And hope in…Hoping at least best, I find my rest;

Glazing at the skies, brightly shines;
Daylight man can’t fly without jets or planes;

 Blindly I smell the crisps atmosphere dons;
White filaments cotton wood candy puffs;
Brilliants so shines the white silver yellow sun;
Birds in trees shout, praise God His love-such;

Baby blue cream lavender skies;
Cool fluffy wind sails clouds;
Birds in trees shout, praise God cause-;
Visionary third eyed spied aloud;
Glazing at the skies, brightly shines brightest plains;
Daylight man can’t fly without jets or planes;

NATURE’S CRIES OUT TO GOD AMIDTS BLUE WHITE SKIES

2/13/24
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2024©

NATURE’S CRIES OUT TO GOD AMIDTS BLUE WHITE SKIES

Visionary third eyed spied;
Baby blue cream lavender skies;
Cool fluffy wind sails clouds;
Birds in trees shout, praise God;

Speaking language to Elohim;
I fell blessed, nature’s voices;
Enlightening me, gives me hope;
And hope in…Hoping at least best, I find my rest;


Glazing at the skies, brightly shines;
Daylight man can’t fly without jets or planes;

 
Blindly I smell the crisps atmosphere dons;
White filaments cotton wood candy puffs;
Brilliants so shines the white silver yellow sun;
Birds in trees shout, praise God His love-such;

Baby blue cream lavender skies;
Cool fluffy wind sails clouds;
Birds in trees shout, praise God cause-;
Visionary third eyed spied aloud;
Glazing at the skies, brightly shines brightest plains;
Daylight man can’t fly without jets or planes;


NATURE’S CRIES OUT TO GOD AMIDTS BLUE WHITE SKIES

2/13/24
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2024©

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