Darkness brewed over early morning skies
for not yet open were the eyes of Dawn.
Foreshadowed was the fast-approaching storm.
Thunder and lightning heralded the storm,
Rain laden Nimbus rushed across the skies,
Chosen was a graphite gown, donned by Dawn,
Rain washed were the silvered tresses of Dawn,
She brushed a tinge of blush after the storm
before greeting sunrise in pale pink skies.
Cloudy skies at Dawn were clear following the storm.
The cockcrow heralded
the first flush of the day.
I woke up spirited
The sun gave its first ray.
Low clouds spun in a whirl
A breeze blew steadily
All became white as pearl.
Sky became heavenly.
I grabbed something for food
I walked the narrow street
Checkered Bougainvillea viewed
They all bloomed in the heat.
348.
My Adoration to Archangel Gabriel
Oh Archangel Gabriel, receive my adoration!
Thou who are heralded as “Harbinger of Divine Revelation”
Reveal unto me the secret of eternal salvation
Cleanse me with God's white ray of purity
Be my cleansing courier when my sins are covering me
With your truthful tidings, raise me up from the grave
From the Ascension Temple of Luxor in Egypt, deliver your hoping slave!
-03/04/2015
(Dumarao)
*My Angels Collection
I am a child of testimony
A chosen vessel of God
Fashioned to bring Him honor and glory
In my sojourn on this sinful Earth
My birth heralded a testimony of greatness
Growing up was a litany of testimonies
Today I stand as testimony personified
Beautifully and wonderfully made
Sometimes I am troubled
But never crushed
Sometimes I am badly hurt but not destroyed
Sometimes I am plagued by doubt but never in despair
Handle me with care for I am the apple of His eyes
He is with me always and so
You can only be against me at your own peril
For whom God has blessed no man can curse
Let the child of testimony move on
For his mission has been divinely ordained
And woe betide any detractors
Engaged to bring to nought his divine mission!
When reading heralded lines
I feel I am betraying
a poetic brotherhood
that seems, always, to be
making much of little:
a scrap, a comment (about a bird, perhaps --
or a comparison of a worm in the dirt
to some far-fetched abstraction.)
The humanity we all should share feels
sorely lacking. And clumsy, pathetic
grappling to elevate the lowly
to a semblance of earned achievement
(and not succeeding)
demeans us all.
"Mea culpa! Ibi dixit."
(I too am guilty. There, I've said it.)
. e.x.p.l.o.d.i.n.g!
prime colours—
yellow thrown in for good measure—
call us to focus
on what is possible –
not only today
but in the future …
even the (w)(h)(i)(s)(p)(e)(r)
of Lady Crackers
alert us to the
VALIDITY
of the quieter Voice
as ego SHOUTS!!!
but wisdom w h i s p e r s
at the s!tr!o!k!e!
of midnight
sheet lightning heralded in the
NEW YEAR—
rain held off
till we had our say …
nothing needs to be shouted
from the roof tops
to make an impact
on someone else’s
LIFE
as I whisper:
‘i love you’
Formula Fe2 O3
Iron is just awesome – let’s see!
First it was prehistoric man
Who was always an iron fan
Iron is a third of the earth
Industry is iron by birth
Pritchard designed and Darby made
Iconic Iron Bridge won’t fade
Smelt pig iron from iron ore
Produces cast iron galore
Backbone of skyscrapers, bridges
Organs of cars, washers, fridges
Clever Bessemer carbon gone
Heralded steel for everyone
Mankind’s most ingenious feat
Turning raw earth to steel – so neat!
Iron’s compounds are versatile
No wonder it’s used all the while
Inks, fertilisers, pesticides
Paints, enamels and more besides
Many iron phrases pervade
Each as an English language aid
There’s ironclad, iron curtain
Iron grip and more for certain
We need it in a small amount
For on haemoglobin we count
Open your eyes and look around
Everywhere an iron surround
Iron has magnetic appeal
First place must be iron with steel
FORM : Tesla Form : 3/6/9
_____________________
[ Poet’s note of interest ~
Tesla’s Birth : 10 July, around midnight : 1856 : stormy weather |
Poem came through : 10 July, 3.33am : 2025 : winter rain |
Numerologically speaking 3.33 is the divine number of alignment. Standard time in Croatia, where Tesla was born & SAST is same | July is the seventh month : 7 is the luminal no. linking Heaven to Earth : compound number between 1856 and 2025 is 7 | 10 is the number of leadership. This poem came exactly as presented here : rhyme & syllable : no edit, so I consider it channelled]
*****
midnight struck on one to power of zero
birthing table seven decked heaven for July
legs open
waters broke blood
breath rapid heralded
lightning cracked sky broken
zodiac Cancer genius creation curious
another reality coded inventions
Light eyed itself transmuting token
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The sun set peacefully
as I looked out towards
the distant red horizon
of the calm, oily sea.
A gentle breeze caressed me,
I stood on the edge of the beach
leaving imprints on the fine sand.
I loved this lonely beach,
the silence was broken softly
by the azure wavelets
that brushed the edge of the sand.
So much beauty and wonder
despite the darkness
that, like an old fog, descended
upon that peaceful part of earth.
I looked towards the sky
dotted with billowy clouds
that raced below the twinkling stars.
I wondered if my angel was up above,
looking down on me,
guarding me from my earthly woes.
What could I do without
my heavenly being of love?
I felt immense tranquillity,
the beach shrouded in peace
far away from the noisy cities
to which I would have to return.
The stars appeared: the evening star,
was it that heralded
the birth of my Creator?
It mattered not, for I was safe.
He was taking care of me.
I knew I'd never be forlorn.
Those days have passed.
Now I'm back home
among cold concrete blocks.
Yet in my heart is peace
for I can still hear
the gentle lapping of the sea waves
on the peaceful beach
that is my own.
Lift your celestial gaze to be amazed in Wonder
As has Ptolemy, then Copernicus and Kepler after
Who are the capricious Gods who dance in wander
To revere Mercury? Venus? Mars? Saturn? Jupiter?
Ptolemy imagined a play staged at his own residence
There the Gods heaved upon us all their vain existence
Trapped by Humanity's Ego, blind to exposed evidence
His glowing Hearth lifting higher embers of negligence
Copernicus heralded the inspirational spark of sacred denial
Orbits dared to be spun into the ire wrath of Church reprisal
Hush your Truth. Mankind cannot, will not be the Sun's disciple
Calculations implore? Observations explore? ASTRONOMICAL!!!
Kepler awoke to his divine intervention lifting the veil of Dogma
He questioned atop ashes of descent burned without anesthesia
A revolution uproar of Ellipses stretching in variable speed inertia
The Gravity of his Truth pulling inextricably at undisputable raw data
The moral of this recounting is to shun the fantasies touted by Elves
Be wise. Be curious. Gather the courage to see Truth for yourselves
Memories of death and dark eminence
The long sleep, lingering last enemy
The coldest, lifeless, breathless silence
Ensues and consumes an eternity.
But hark, then slowly, after sightless sighs
The invisible and subtly faceless hides
Like 0 becoming 0.1 and then 0.3
Our own hero, here for thee
Distant in the deep, heralded by birds wee
sweet blue light seeps into the sky.
All is cleansed, to begin again
Reason returns, an ember burns
And then when fanned into a flame
His colors increase, the mystery ceased,
And let light linger from the East,
It comes glorious, gentle, and glistening,
All heaven and earth is now listening.
For Lo: Apollo knows what follows,
As the ancients scry, angels prophesy
Cockerels cry, until nigh the black bids “bye bye.”
Just as night is the mother of day
Never lost along the way
The pendulum swings, the trees sing and sway.
After long drawn shock and sorrow
Dawn has taken the time in the morrow.
Woodsman on a prowl
Sneaking around like an owl
Noticing innocents getting a fright
Watchman you are a good knight
Defending partiers in a plight
Battling a monster in a murderous fight
Erich you guarded them all
Despite the rainfall
Where thunder clapped
Lightning snapped
Spotlighting your heroic stage
Heralded by the girls maturing in age
Until your deadly scripted page
As we reflect surrounded by campfire mist
Who should be on the angelic list
Mr. Anderson may not have received Brad Clooney fame
But we knew your look maybe not name
Reminded the rat was Ben
While the chopping mall no longer needed Ken
RIP mechanical hiking buddy
Protecting those from evil not really funny
Make it sunny
Heavens will be brighter
Since you are now a soulful fighter
We all down here
Are in it for the scream and cheer
Toasting Rob Dier
With a corkscrew and beer
Although it's a well worn cliche,
there is something soothing
in the thought of lying in bed
listening to rain. Last night
I was front row in a symphony.
An adagio of soft fall, murmurings
on a metal roof and whispers
running along gutters.
Calm in the tempo
of raindrops, muted gargles
and gulps echoed inside
the throats of downpipes.
Then everything changed.
A quickening pace heralded
heavy rain and hailstones
falling in a roar of wind.
Lightning flashed
behind curtains, thunder
drew nearer, giant, swollen
bags of noise burst
to come crashing down,
rattling windows and sending
the spill rushing through
doorways into tense rooms.
Heaven unleashed its might,
as if trying to tear itself away
from this world,
as it still does, weighted
with words and held here
on a page, longing to lift
into song with drum rolls
and tremble in a crescendo
fit for a thousand voices,
straining to break free
and fly somewhere else,
finding itself stuck
in a poem, slowly drifting
towards sleep
and oblivion.
“Only age and time can aid us to see what’s veiled.”
- Quote from Poet
Something is hidden from him,
Like a cup not filled to the brim,
Something is kept in the night,
It isn’t time to come to the light.
His eyes are open but still shut,
A mystery that can’t be fought,
A marvel that can only be unlocked by time,
Heralded by the foretold clime.
He can’t see beyond the shadow,
There is a faraway meadow,
A place people desire to see,
Even as they’re buoyed across the sea.
Hidden are the pages of the book,
We earnestly want to look,
Veiled are the scripts that complete the story,
He thinks he has a full view of the glory.
A Flow of inimitable care; is here' from where? My present
Is part of this ingress, and awareness? A seeping wave
A current from unconciusness, invisible non-physical pnuma silent silver silhouetted scenes screened
Glide my being whole' mind spirit body soul.' Not a
Wish drew such to me.' rather all un-heralded; does it be.!
Come to pervade, arrived to pursuede' dulcet whispers
That strengthen then fade..Once awake i hear their like.'
Yet my grasp is eluded..Though try i with mind; and all might.'
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