A bittersweet taste of isolation grips
while ambling into our unlit attic,
escorted by a window's glassy beam ...
And I notice a disarray
of your keepsakes...history books,
stale cigars, antiques In fluted trunk
all muddily undone:
Somehow, clouds turn deep violet
where I uncover a file of private notes
intimate as your very skin, your breath
marking our years' affectionate episodes--
Till my dire soliloquy, my ached calls
hide beneath an ocean of black stars ,
recalling now, your gentle caresses
that I wake within the rose wilderness
of your arms...forlorn:
Tonight, I fetch a Sauvignon
warming a rainy October dusk --
yet a mirage of sirens greets me
deafened by Fate's ending I cannot hold,
this room swallowing me
In total vaqueness as my lungs pine
for your name I can only hear...
I beseech the sun to undress
the stars, but could my plea
be more strong than theiving time?
How midnight groans like a widow for this loss.
Strewn with buds upon night’s skyscape ,
we followed the hovel of an outer-world
As fluted leaves
formed a hologram of our map--
a journey granting passage
into real existence;
Where our twin- souls moved in silence.
I felt your hands cuddling a bounty of flowers
And we meet in Portugal
third instance,
Cleansing lost time in holy water.
The procession of candles brushed the air
quite sacred: white lilies unfurling petals
into hundred lights
on the shrine
of mother Mary ,
while young stars crowned us again...
was it 1918 when our eyes first met here?
Till we strolled through a monolith of statues
blessing our paths ...aligning our thoughts
In the house of Fatima, of transparent gods;
taking our silent vows
with co-owned vintage cameos...
But the vision turns into ripples;
I’m by myself ,
a lone pilgrim
trapped around a grotto...wondering
if this scene were chimeric illusion
or timeless reality...
How I longingly touch your face,
feeling those sighs , like...
like they were my own earthy breath.
Beneath the rippled, sunlit glass,
I rest among the eelgrass blades,
A shadowed world where currents pass
Through quiet, emerald-tinted glades.
A gentle pulse draws in the tide,
Through open folds, the feast is spun;
I sift the sea where currents glide,
And take the bounty of the sun.
A sudden rush—a snapping spark—
I lift and dance upon the floor,
And vanish swiftly in the dark
To settle on the sandy shore.
Here, safe within my textured walls,
Away from cruising shadow’s eye,
Where peace defines the quiet halls,
The rushing world may wander by.
Adorned in ribbed and fluted grace,
Where painted bands of pink align
With lavender across my face,
The ocean's quiet masterpiece—
A living scallop...resting.
Lemonade flows
fluted fountain
diamond rivers
gentle rainy sprinkles
honey
sweet or sour kisses
dew faeries dancing
opus romance
coveted rose essence
open window
summer breeze
memories
lemony taffy
scented peppermint
sour kisses.
Tittle tittle
make love the middle
love
Which complicated romances
A fool should be
more wiser to see
not be obvious taking chances
It ain't bout rejection
See all I am reflecting
Is complicated
But it real
What I am suggesting
In such complications
Is ah due wash thyme will be
It ain't that complicated
And all you
Debated is where.
You stand with him
Or me
Neilsen got ratings
And what we debating
Is one of those
Who are oh succiees
White shelves and bammas
Your tense reminders
Is bout you and mi
Oboe, oh oboe
The piccolo has played
The piano is tuned
The song is fluted
Bytch why can't you behave
Barking and spicing
In your conversation
The secret recipe gave
Can't trust whores
Sorrstrees who
Chore-9h
Trick
Please behave
What that
Is it jelly
I ain't Mackiovelli
The triple crown has past
Is Preakness playing
We ain't behaving
Gonna give next guy
Sum azz
Whispers of Lord of the Khemenu
(A lone voice whispers)
Beyond what tired minds pass by as memories, fires, and embers fade.
Beyond what the missing say, while fluted pipes play.
As in deep waters you wade as life slowly fades and Mother Darkness calls your way.
Just look for the magic while your resolve holds as everything unfolds.
And try to empty the cold and all it tries to remold.
(C) Copyright John Duffy
A poem portraying a spiritual crossing through grief and dissolution, guided by ancient wisdom, urging the soul to seek meaning and release despair before it reshapes who they become.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
captured sunset on a plate
flaky, fluted crust
the filling—sweet pumpkin warmth
flavors of autumn
cinnamon and cloves
fork slides through
sigh
Magpies bring in the dawn
singing fluted chorales
to flock, friends and passers by.
They know friendly faces
in their congregation
carolling, warbling along.
From ground to high sky
birds fill break of day with song
feathered hymns rejoice—
dawn chorus of wing and will
call all to join nature's voice
Magpie's carolling
ignites dawn with fluted bells
welcoming chorale
in day-break's cathedral dome
joyous songs of devotion
Willie Wagtail struts
tail flicks like a metronome
swagger in each step—
black-and-white little soldier
stakes claim to place of its own
Grey Fantail arc skits
with tail flits like restless fan
chaos ensemble—
air itself shakes in the dance
with its frantic flight patterns
Superb Fairy-wren
courageous, blatantly bold
blazes bright in blue—
outlandish flare on green leaves
with its beauty turned to dare
Eastern Whip-bird cracks
the lash to rouse sleepy heads
who missed the alarm
stumbled wobbly out of bed—
hoping no one would notice
The Welcome Swallow
adept aerial maestro—
dazzles watching throngs
with its acrobatic stunts
snatching at insects mid-flight
Time flies like a fiery peregrine.
Infinity takes its bronze sweetened time.
Seeing all with the opaque eye of an aged terrapin.
Time is a tambourine -it has little mercy.
It'll wake you from your sweetened sleep.
Infinity is the fluted Buddha of compassion.
A shaman of other-worldly things.
In between lies a wizard placing souls in a crystal ball.
Shaking out the nightmare from their dreams.
The well-intentioned walk the earth searching for the key.
To unlock the treasure chest to life's grand mystery.
Some take the Ayahuasca path into other realms.
To forever mince the ego within its iron shell.
One trip brings a crystal forest of angels.
The other, the fractal mind of mechanical elves.
A carnival ride into a slanted room of mirrors.
Where seekers are seen forever searching for the self.
Jesus, the pristine, forgotten upon a restless throne.
Rehearsing parchment lines for the final scene...
The immaculate firefly, forever gently guiding.
The faithful along the long-ragged path to back home.
A Candy Storefront window, a passerby pauses briefly at the array of heart-shaped enwrapped in velvet reds, filled with sweet treats like years before. The same tricks deployed as the byway take point passing a park. Then a heaven-sent gift the gentle walker, drifts a spun floater being a dove's solitaire wing. A hand reaches down and gathers it up in mental discourse. In brevity breathes deeply, and exhales soothingly. Contented, the gentle walker heads back to town, where an empty crimson velour box is bought, he makes one more stop before heading back home with a frozen smile. Amidst the expected backdrop scene where two fluted glasses filled with Dom Perignon Champagne atop a white-silk-covered small round table that graces two silver candle holders, pre-lit. The significant other donning a maroon single-piece nightdress is presented a box. He sits as she opens the box and oddly looks. As he explains his day's escapade freed him from the rigamarole being rhetorical, he lastly gifts her with a smaller box. She opens built-up with a hint of suspense that shreds away to tears. She looks up to the penitent soul while holding a solitaire diamond ring.
Brahms Walz in A flat Major OP> Number 15
_____________________________________________
Bello, Bello
your turban has come
Bello, Bello
your Turban has come
she bowed her head in
embasserment
the fluted sound whistled
in oour ear
Bello, Bello
your Turban
is here
She wore her brothers pink headdress
when she heard of his
opponet
she bowed her head in shame
he marveled
and stood fast
and she covered her eyes
each moment
thinking her lover
would fall to the champions feet
New Orleans’ 1962 ostentatious hotel lobby
extravagant crystal fluted chandeliers
highly polished walnut counter tops
opulent Italian marble floors
plush scarlet velvet cushioned couches
swankly brass and glass décor
luxury never seen after nineteen sixty-two
time frosted the eyes
put buckshot to his voice box
they still came in flocks
the stage grows smaller
into yesterday they walk
hearts become fluted
A rhythmic refrain on the shore
As waves caress it more and more
A gentle breeze in fluted strain
On the shore a rhythmic refrain
As clouds pass by I hear a tune
As wispy notes above are strewn
A cadence floating in the sky
I hear a tune as clouds go by
There is a song among the stars
Twinkles make up musical bars
Moonbeam rhythms play along
Among the stars there is a song
On moonbeams a lullaby rides
As it shimmers upon the tides
When slumber takes you to your dreams
A lullaby rides on moonbeams
1-21-2024
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