His poems no longer garner many views
If writing were a contest, he'd lose
True, the poet is the first one who has to be pleased
Yet only by moving others can he truly succeed
Whether it's a gasp or a grin, a thought or a sigh
Reader reaction decides
~ if a poem lives or it dies
our three eyes triangulate
and yet we must lie in wait
to transmute as living light
and garner spherical sight
who knows when the egg will hatch
where all we do is detach
soul presence from the ego
through pathways we alone know
breath by breath as we align
we know there’s no finish line
as ascension continues
displaying beauteous hues
Heart’s
rhythmic
pulsations
are unnoticed
till the moment when
God’s life force is withdrawn,
when staring death in the face,
our heart is frozen with deep fear,
knowing not what lies in the beyond
and worse is there life after death or not.
Oh worthy hermit, garner clear sight now,
that after ego death heart then knows
our true home is outside space-time,
living light drenched in bliss mists,
thus nothing need be feared
since life is a dream
from which we will
soon awake
as God’s
light.
Well, yes, all the gruff beknown deny,
and ones’ own lifting oar hear mighty bombs burst
whilst autocrat hymn—
“Let cristned bombs pelt from the hea’enly sky”.
Awe! Does one shy in cheer, yes, forgo the indelible?
Or do one jeer? Cry?
Art one silent amidst nationalists amok?
E’en when in lifting ones’ own nudging oar,
yes, do hear mighty bombs burst whilst foreign babies cry?
Do one in secret loathe, yes, the moms
who as cristned bombs pelts sing nippers’ lullabies?
Awe! As the mighty cristned bombs pelts lands afar
does one disregard, yes, when mites, one's own, sever
the wings of butterflies
to garner affection so denied?
Awe, here lies, yes, barbarism in disguise…
Thought is the thief, opaquing light
ever aglow in heart,
so in silence garner clear sight,
by adding love to cart.
Present in witness mode,
heart centre our abode,
let’s pay to God an ode.
Turn a new leaf ~
Thought is the thief
“I was not born nor have I death. I have no action, good or evil. I am Brahman, stainless, without qualities. How can there be bondage or liberation for me?”
Self or God, both being the same
and manifestation a game,
where freedom is by God-sparks sought,
thought is the tempest to be tamed.
The sense of ego is the blot,
since the seeker who seeks is not
body-mind but in fact the all,
though for now in a mind web caught.
Kundalini births a bliss squall,
within which presence standing tall,
recognises itself as light,
beyond space-time where there’s no wall.
Breath by breath, by day and by night,
in life’s dream where fancy takes flight,
as both the dreamer and the dreamed,
here and now we garner clear sight.
Light of Self in silence redeemed,
nonchalant to illusions streamed,
boundaries blur, we disappear,
as the source wherefrom life is beamed.
bliss energised stillness fixates focus
upon the play of divine magnetism
as we navigate a pathless locus
we garner truths unknown to any ism
this script is enacted in feeble form
observed by our presence in solitude
where all we do is with bliss beats conform
in childlike wonder marked with fortitude
we voice the truth without inhibition
of this dance divine underway within
suffice to say, God is the magician
His will causing ignition to begin
pardon our diction that sounds like fiction ~
leading to our ego’s crucifixion
In the water is the moon’s reflection,
just as ego merely mirrors God’s light,
so looking upwards, changing direction,
the false self falls and we garner clear sight,
knowing ego we thought boon is but blight.
Upon surrendering to God our will,
in moments when mind’s still, voids within fill.
Hold steady focus on Self by day and night,
until save the bliss mist nothing else remains,
that with resolve steeled thus, we garner clear sight,
transforming as the flame, free from ego’s chains.
There are no shortcuts, along the truth search way,
if we seek enlightenment that’s here to stay,
whence the music of the spheres plays by itself,
as we dwell in time stretched peace, as light of Self.
Dear Florence,
How the evening sun sets upon us,
To garnish the sky in marigold wreaths;
For it sprouts the mist of heavenly light,
The myth I wish to garner from thee.
O’ deathly lady, speak unto me truth,
Does beauty cower ‘neath thy sanctum of stone?
Or perhaps it hides within moss ridden yards,
And loves anew each death it’s outgrown.
O’ deathly lady, veiled under the breeze,
How I envy thine eyes lain barest at dawn;
Awaiting the sun through tender spring leaves,
And blinding thyself – awake to true beauty.
Florence Margaret Mainland
(Nov. 25, 1903-June 8, 1925)
Mound Cemetery, Racine, Wisconsin
Every day has become a rerun.
Impervious to age is an untruth.
Glass is no longer half full.
Hasty decisions never turn out well.
Tough Old Bird will be my claim to fame.
Yesterdays garner most of my thoughts.
Sheltered in the arms of God.
Indolence was never my choice.
Xeroxing is replacing my memory.
My brother’s book deserves a look
And not just for the time it took,
But for the family tree he shook
To show the need to strive.
His characters are loosely based
On relatives whose lives he traced
From foreign lands ‘til they embraced
New homes when they’d arrive.
The story’s universal, though,
For as they settle and they grow,
We realize how much we don’t know
Of how they did survive.
Most families who did emigrate
Shared hardships and the hand of fate
And often, we learn much too late
What pushed or helped them thrive.
My brother’s book may bring acclaim
And might or might not garner fame,
But if you read From Where We Came*,
His story stays alive.
by Burt Rashbaum
What is there to think, much less do,
when breath by breath bliss beats renew,
a benign fire in which we burn,
borne by divine grace, which we woo.
As nodes within form gently churn,
vaporised soul awaits its turn,
to become here now self-aware,
making luminous body urn.
We lay before God, our heart bare,
trusting He tends to us with care,
ensuring our soul’s swift ascent;
truths we garner, we freely share.
Recognising we are in truth living light,
in a domain transcending both time and space,
feeling complete we enjoy unbound delight,
yet to grow in love, steps toward earth retrace,
where once our eye’s single, we garner clear sight,
of course being bestowed solely by God’s grace.
Earth life is a school, where love’s the only rule,
to awaken light of Self, our heart’s jewel.
Alphabet soup
Brain food
Carrying mood
Daring attitude
Elicit creativity
Fudge negativity
Garner expressions
Hold court
Imagination distorts
Jam uncontrollably
Keen lyrically
Love life
Minimize strife
Never assume
Onward march
Pastel arch
Quintessential reign
Rising star
Setting bar
Tactical quest
Universal goal
Vindicated soul
Whimsical voyage
Xeroxing lightning
Yearning heightening
Zenith procured
Sub Categories
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.