Thirst does not have to remain suppressed
A continuous flow of fulfilling hydration
Faithful concrete promises
"For My thoughts are not your thoughts"
Reminder for days where my mind attacks
However, what is true is that I was made by You
Detailed in creation, carpentry beyond worldly comprehension
Empathy combines with intention
Realizing the similarities the Father places within us
Spirit flows and speaks freely
Jesus also has empathy
I’m not whom
You may think
I am
But am the who
That I am
And the coming
To being more
As the belly
Of my soul
Craves
In hunger
For divine
Wisdom
And guidance
Poured from
God’s overflowing
Cistern spilling
Out onto
The dry sponge
Of my soul
Awaiting hydration
Of awareness
And inspiration
To be likewise
Squeezed out
Onto other
Dehydrated sponges
Of spiritual souls
Needing
Flowing prose
And wetting rhymes
Saturating healing grace
During all needed times:
Grief and despair
We’re not to harbor
For to do so
Is to jam-jar horror
Always remember
On the way
We go
Spiritually bound sailors
Sailing waves
To the shores of life
Frothing away failed
Behaviors
So in keloid memory
Of this little prose
Flowing rhyme
From me
In every moment of
A trying time
Keep this little flow
In mind
And enjoy from
The Cistern above
Healing peace and love:-
Water, transparent
Pure, precious
Gold in the presence of the sun
It jumps over pebbles,
Eroding its path
Mustn’t we preserve
This precious treasure?
The magical potion that quenches thirst
With only a portion fresh
Mustn’t we conserve
This golden treasure?
As it drips down,
It converts itself
A soothing sound that begs for help
Mustn’t we save
This great treasure?
It plunges down the falls,
Dashing along the river
Stops at the lovely green lake,
Meets the vast sea at the coast
Freezes at the glacier,
Sprays at the geyser
Mustn’t we retain
This priceless treasure?
A part underground,
The others brimming with salt
A part polluted,
Of plastic partly
Mustn’t we protect
This delicate treasure?
Provides pearls
In its depth
Offers hydration
That makes us glow
Mustn’t we guard
This boon of a treasure?
Without the elixir of life,
The day disaster rains
Droughts and deserts pave their way!
Should the day not arrive,
Mustn’t we help retrieve
This shimmering treasure?
We stand a few feet from the battering, foaming waves,
they can foretell if hail or rain is coming to scatter us...
as we run for cover to the beach house color rust;
should we wait for those swollen clouds to bust?
To get frightened is to imagine an immediate evacuation,
or even an illusional mirage from deadly hydration;
peacefulness is the narration of unrealistic writers,
not of the cautious fishermen securing their rocking boats!
Any other day along this crowded and vibrant bay all comes alive
with this sweet song, " Be mindful of today, tomorrow is unknown. "
How true it sounds to our ears when notes and voices thrive;
we look beyond this small island: so endless seems the clear horizon!
Storms may come and go, but the scenery remains intact;
people who were born here and built their homes, stay here:
unless they are forced by dire reasons, they'll unwillingly leave:
someone says," My grandad built this house with excessive sweat! "
Manifestations of your Gauzy Fantasies
Unravelling Bonds of Tangled, Mangled Destinies
Sun of Man Set His Right Eye on Me
Tenaciously Searing, Calculating
To Entrap Me, A Prisoner to His Needs
Inspired A Premedimated Deed did He
With Intent To Plant a Seed!
Stormed Wrecked and Invaded My Archipelago
Pirate Prowess, Sophomoric,
He Stared, I Jeered, Blotted Proviso Smeared
Drenched In Salted Sweet, Freshly Spring Showered Awhile Ago
Armpits Crying, Young Sun, I've Done No Wrong
No Shade to Evade the Soundless Seranade
As The Father, Not the Sun, Pearched In a Chariot
Cascaded, Paraded Crusade
Blazing Rays, No Mercy, No Refrain
Solar Purgatory, Solicited by the Solar Nova Hovering above Port-of Spain
Evaporated Senses, Smothered Disdain, Budding Foliage Scorched and Drained
Organically Syphoning Hydration Reserved for Lack of Rain
Heat Rashes, Depleted Cortizone Stashes
Senses Assunder, Lost in Wander
Drifting Sun Stroked, Begging Pardon, Parched and Punished In Port of Spain!
As the Cup Runneth Over
thirst
dire, immediate
pleading, despairing, compelling
newborns, world, pneuma, rivers
living, assuaging, redeeming
quenched, blessed
wellspring
(c) sally young eslinger 11/8/2023
From glacial mountain tops and peaks
Sunlight wakes me from my sleep
No way of telling how long I slept
Or way of knowing what time is left
Gravity takes me where I go
Often times it’s just the flow
Downward till death lets me go
Ever traveling I do not know
Waters they go where the force is leading
The shallows and the deeps competing
The secrets and gold I hide
I feed and carry sources of life
Flooding a place where stops my aim
My being is both loss and gain
And often called god or goddess
Drying unto death stops my progress
I sometimes quench the dying thirst
Or being too much I slowly curse
Dissolving structures when floods take hold
Sweep away foundations the new and old
Feed the flocks that feed a nation
Filling the swamps or leaving hydration
Douse the fires that would destroy
Bathe the unclean that would annoy
Joining the ocean the ultimate goal
No more am I when salt takes hold
From there rebirth gives me meaning
Over and over always repeating
Where is the moon,
Where is the sun,
My sky is dark and overrun-
When I look for the Stars
I’m blinded by sun,
When I look for the light
I’m lost by night,
Oh gratitude where art thou,
In my search for your hydration
All I find is drought-
Hydration, urination, frustration
I’m being Pampered with Depends
The means justifies the ends
For with my bladder shrinkage
There comes a bit of leakage
It’s so simple I just do it do it
I can’t remember where I threw it
But to this date it’s just been water
Haven’t yet let loose a “squatter”
And I still can change my own
While talking on a speaker phone
So it’s safe to take me driving
Or leave me at home alone
I’ve gone from Pampers to Depends
The way it started is how it ends
My life became a little sadder
With the shrinkage of my bladder
©7/16/2023
Ink, the black water,
The necessity for life
Purified by blotters
Contained in clouds in rife
Ink!
Yes, the purest of hydration!
...But what if conflagration
Attempts its dissipation,
Tossing burning embers
Like a pen with ink,
On seas across the nation
Well,
The ink evaporates
And flows into the air
Until it condensates
And pours upon the flares
So...
There is ink they will suppress
Hoping thoughts will evanescence
But writers can't quiesce
Hence:
The ink shall pour down nonetheless
It rained last night
and it will rain again and again
after each dry spell -
the planet has always understood
the benefits of hydration.
The ground of being, being mind-clay
will reconfigure a muddy tale,
then poetry (or whatever speaks
in riddles and earthy visons
claiming to be the most profound
of witless squiggle’s)
will surface to inscribe its thoughts
upon a fluid reality.
Writhing, writing worms
will raise their blind heads
in praise of the compliancy of all deconstructed worlds;
they will carol in the newly wetted shallows
as God muses together
all potentially squirmy realities,
ones that can be read as an outward appearance,
and evidence
of yet more superficial churnings.
Sufficient hydration, she descended the sub-alpine track, distinctive inferno pine scent and the casuarina fragrance formed a perfume mix.
Arriving at a large rock, immediately crashes gently, her limbic suspension of both hands as a neutralizer for gravity, stops.
I am satisfied in front as a martyr, she is like a pendulum. In the nasti motion style, to hold her, heavy load.
Shift a few inches, grinding the ground, as the force of the collision, rush of breath, thirst, the sound of gulping water, chewing.
She chanted about circumference, cappellaing over his nesting clinks and fingers,
Fresh air,
clear sky,
light breeze,
towering mountain.
Looking at each other after reading the writing in the old paper.
I don't know what gestures are memeable style, full of etiquette.
What a creation!
A creature of elation
Gave me a sensation
Of heart palpitation
It ate a carnation
In the midst of lunation
And grew with inflation
For such a duration
That held my fixation
Itself a flotation
Until it's deflation
And sunk for hydration
Spotted like a dalmation
Yet more like a crustacean
That gave me causation
To realize my narration
May only be imagination
Water, life force for living things
The fount the psalmist sweetly sings,
In songs of testament renown--
Heaven’s healing waters flow down.
Falling rain quenching nature’s thirst
Causing ripe buds to swell and burst,
Cleansing the earth from wilting brown--
Heaven’s healing water’s flow down.
Rivers flow remind us of veins
Running over from summer rains
Sometimes flooding a river town,
Heaven’s healing water’s flow down.
Water saves us with hydration
Shown in accounts of creation,
Abundant flows in spring meltdown
Heaven’s healing water’s flow down.
FOURTH PLACE WINNER
Written August 8, 2022
Submitted to “A Kyrielle About Water” Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Kim Rodrigues
Of all emotions that twirl us around,
most arise owing to our delusion
that we’re mind-body, a belief unsound,
causing in consciousness, deep confusion,
till love’s enabled, by head-heart fusion.
Love may be platonic or sexual
but whatever it’s hue, consensual;
a melding of souls, employing no force,
renewal within is perpetual,
through shifting sands of time, taking it’s course.
Yet, what avail love, if it be fickle,
dependent upon reciprocation,
over time becoming a mere trickle,
requiring by touch, constant hydration,
offering not ultimate salvation?
Love divine, the fragrance of a flower,
an effervescence of a bliss shower
seeking no echo, it’s self-existent,
sublime caress tender, is it’s power,
persistent without being insistent.
31-July-2022
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