I’ve traveled the world by air and by sea
Seen what many aren’t privileged to see
From heinous acts of terror to country-wide starvation
From the richest of rich to the poorest of nations
Seen the beauty of a shoreline warmed by a red sun
A homing pigeon fly thousands of miles on his annual ‘home run’
Yet of all the sights I’ve seen, at the top stands just one
~ The candles in the chapel lit, evening service begun
We'll find each other
By Michelle Morris
22/02/2023
We'll find each other
We'll always find our way back
Like a homing pigeon knows
Its way home every time
We'll miss each other
We'll feel our hearts beat in longing
Like two shells on a sandy beach
Echoing voices across rolling waves from the ocean
We'll heal each other
We'll be a comfort and a balm
Like the comfort of the gentle rain
On flowers that are thirsty on a summer's day
We'll be there for each other
We'll be there through every storm
Even though we may be apart
We're connected through the Cosmos
We'll love each other
Through every single lifetime
For ours is a love beyond limits
Part of the expanding Universe divine
© Michelle Morris, 2023
Sorry to leave, but
Glad to be back
Travel gene's something
My DNA lacks
As a child
I liked how its life
fitted so well within
my clasped hands,
the feel
of its smooth head,
the silky
one way fall
of feathers down
to a turquoise collar,
its tight form
loaded like
a coiled spring
beneath all that softness,
gathered ready to launch
and lift with wings,
letting it go
and most of all,
its coming back.
Which is it, a pigeon or dove?
We hate one; the other, we love.
Your clean car, that blob?
'Twas likely a squab,
opined likewise of you, thereof.
----------
H/T to Gershon Wolf's Justice for All
Spirituality or religion?
Based on where born, most pray to a symbol;
reach for scriptures, like a homing pigeon,
laudable no doubt, resting thoughts nimble,
yet missing out on vibrant bliss tingle.
There’s a holy book, they need to follow,
yet cannot do so, in waters shallow,
for oh dear hearts, the word is not the thing,
when tested, faith crumples, being hollow,
having never felt, bliss throbs God does bring.
The agnostic choosing heart expansion,
negates all that, that is impermanent,
head-heart aligned with love in elation,
plunges headlong into the joy current,
nestled in bliss, our native element.
Religion valid, yet binds and confines,
following rules, ancient scripture assigns,
more oft than not, labelling their heaven,
whilst the nameless hermit, with love aligns,
igniting within form, chakras seven.
03-October-2021
Difference in opinion Poetry Contest
Sponsor: LN Shreya
There’s God and there’s the devil
Man’s caught in the middle
Who’s good and who’s evil,
There’s Heaven and there’s hell
More beautiful is the earth
Can anyone otherwise tell,
There’s sin and there’s confession
Then there’s the rule of law
To constraint further transgression,
There’s Koran and there’s Bible
Forget William Shakespeare
Man plays the role of the disciple,
There’s Politics and there’s Religion
Trapped like a rabbit
Man is the lost homing pigeon,
There’s lyric and there’s melody
You have Opera and rap
It’s time to end this parody,
You have pouring rainfall
There are lakes and oceans
Bubbling brooks and waterfall,
There are grass, shrub and tree
Man’s eternal soul
Forever craving to be free.
~05/07/21
~Contest: Just Stating the Obvious
~Sponsor: Brother Jacob
Let us chase each other‘s urge on scalding heaths,
Like ponies on the gallop without rein,
A deep seat harness cast into oblivion in the spurt to sea green passion‘s cosmic haze.
Equidistant red clouds now they
ripple at the thought of sensual hearts with pine ablaze.
Soaring pulse rate lodger
on the snoop of citrus rue.
Plume of lilac giggles scare the awestruck azure perch bird whose mating patterns seem like beaky pecks.
Homing pigeon instinct gets the better of our maple leaf alliance as we wade through vapid marshes at the foot of Alum-kuh
NB Alum- kuh is escarpment in Iran
Pine as human need
Now comes the time when I no longer speak- nothing
But my blue blooded vessel makes the speech
I'm not faulty, its the write thing
Now comes the time when my programmed Homing Pigeon no more function
Hard it may be
But its the blue blooded vessel that gave me unction
I may be called but refuse to dine
I just don't have appetite
The blue blooded vessel had put the 'write' food on my canine
Now comes the time I'm thirsty
But need not water
The blue blooded vessel produces plenty
Now comes write communication with FAEO
My right hand master
And OLA WRITES my coach behind the scene
The blue blooded vessel made me feel I'm a hero
Now I know the 'write' deal is the 'write' thing
All my might I am investing
Gripping the vessel with my thumb and supporting it with the next finger
I'm emerging a flying writer
Questions
I’ve got some questions; the truth if you please
I’d like to know – does a penguin have knees
Can a rhinoceros – if he has a twitch
Raise his back leg to get at his itch
If water gets in a bull elephant’s ear
Can he hop on one leg until it is clear
A better one yet – can he smother a sneeze
By holding his trunk between his front knees
Is a zebra a white horse with black stripes on the side
Or a black horse with white stripes – how can we decide
Can a wolf really blow or is that just a tale
Can a golf ball plug up the blowhole of a whale
Why does a road runner run – can’t he fly
Why does Wylie Coyote continuously try
What made the very first hyena laugh
It must have been one big hilarious gaffe
How does a rooster know just when to crow
How does a homing pigeon know where to go
How does a opossum think he will survive
By making us all think that he’s not alive
How can a male mantis get into the act
Knowing when finished he will be attacked
Why does a poet write things down their way
Why did you come out to hear us today
These are the questions – please give them some thought
I’d hate to believe they were all asked for naught
Eclipse Of The Soul
By: Noel N. Villarosa
Plants harmonize to the sun to bring life aglow
And to rest at the night’s luminary
The sea is waiting for the wind to blow
And serve as a cradle for fish hatchery
And mankind, on the hustle and bustle of each day
Gyrate on a merry-go-round, so tedious
Withal, a wishy-washy self
And a thrall of his own fear
Thither that place called ‘hades’
And in his dream the edelweiss and wisteria
Go down to ecocide
The fierce billow has taken many billets-doux
Into a forlorn land
Pensive for a homing pigeon to carry his thought to God
That once awaken, a harmonica is playing
And a new paradise for dwelling
Many at threescore are not contented
And praying for a longer life
But many committed blasphemy so umpteen
And now yelling for the forgiveness of sin
And the fracas he brought to nature
Now mankind is waiting for the great covenant
For the realization of life, truth, and love as above all
And the destruction of sin, sickness, and death
Before he sees the complete eclipse of his soul
Written and posted in voicesnet.com poetry site: 28 October 2009
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.