I kissed the rain~
not for its taste,
but for the way it softened the world,
loosening the hard outlines
of everything I once believed.
Spellbound by sunlight,
I rose into the shimmer,
a silhouette stitched from brightness
and half-remembered longing.
I am a dangerous dream~
soft as sleep,
sharp as prophecy,
a threshold where shadows
learn to glow.
But to be your moon, must I wane?
Must I thin myself
into a silver whisper
just to orbit your gravity?
Rain on my lips,
sun in my bones,
danger in my dreaming,
and a moon that refuses to dim~
this is the shape I make
when all my selves
rise at once.
An Incantation for the Well
I drop fifty pence from my heart
Into the well, wishing and hoping
For my heart's desire.
May you hear my call
Sire Marcus Baracus
And grant me my request.
From deep within my hopeful heart,
A silver coin is cast apart.
Into the wishing well it falls,
To answer what my spirit calls.
Hear my plea this sacred night,
And bring my true desire to light.
Find a physical token: Use a clean 50p coin.
Charge the coin: Hold it tight while visualizing your wish.
Hide the coin: Place it inside a small velvet pouch or a wooden box.
Choose the location: Keep it at the back of a drawer or under your mattress.
Leave it alone: Do not touch or spend the coin while waiting for results.
I belong in rings
circles of my whispering
each chant at tangent—
across the diagonals
charting my awakening
I use rhythm to draw
compass lines on virgin ground
breathing a mantra
to recite faithful sketches
that arc over the dome shroud
triangles of doubt
erupt within the echo
edges turned inward
yet this sharpness finds its place
when confined in the circle
what would shapes become
without their opposing sides
a square needs four sides
a soup bubble shape trembles—
balance born in symmetry
in the polygon
of opinions gathered there
angles speak at once
each playing a vital part
swayed by the container's form
within the circle
infinite as mandala
voices radiate
from faith as a central star
blazing signals of pure light
Mockingbird, your twisted song
Of love, and dance, and mirth
Tinge my scarlet heart with white
And give my soul rebirth
Rest my mind with naive dreams
Give me once a cotton bed
Tell me of my unlit means
And rob me of my dread.
Once your song has finished fast
Leave me on mine own.
Give me hope of death at last.
And so my fate be sewn.
Were every breath an incantation,
Every word a prophecy,
Would I fear more this consternation,
Not writing for anxiety?
Were every word a portent, telling,
Every sentence writ, a spell,
Would my mind ever stop this yelling?
Could I my consternation quell?
Such large words to write and scrabble,
Though loquacious I am not.
Cease you, brain! this psychobabble,
My brain thinks an awful lot.
Would I fear to speak a sentence,
Would I fear to write a page
Were every word scrawled so portentous,
Trapping me in my own cage?
Is the poet bound by scripture,
Living by the fate he writes?
No! I’ll open up a fissure,
Jump the gap! I have to fight!
I am not the fates’ keeper,
But I choose for my own heart
That o’er these gaps I’ll be a leaper,
And on life’s stage I’ll play my part.
Were every breath an incantation,
Magic within every word,
Would I fear the divination
When I, my written words, had heard?
Were every word so filled with might
That with each word my power grew,
Would I, then, still fear to write
Lest every single word come true?
Curly red-haired witch had incantations that flowed into the night
Her familiar, an owl, watched them float up and out of sight.
What are you trying for? Asked her cat, who was a sour puss really.
Not sure, she replied. Maybe a dinosaur named Willy or Wheel-y
Don’t you have to know ahead? A bossy wizard asked when he stopped.
Perhaps yes, perhaps no, she said, her fish partner flipped and flopped.
Suddenly a bunch of pelicans fell out of clouds from high in the sky.
Look what I caused, she told him “with barely a try”.
light heats the body
formulated elixir
internal sunshine
The light
is not its own, but
caught and passed on
to comfort a darkened world.
It inhabits the lonely places
and where absence
has gone unhealed,
becoming a summoner
of dreams and visions
as if seeking a form
to manifest something
of itself in the apparitions
wandering human sleep,
or in a memory
that gently brushes
the mind when still,
or drifting far away,
as the image
of a mother's cooling hand
caressing a child’s
fevered brow, or
comes upon the senses
like a breath
in the soft sweep of hair
across the lips
of a summers evening,
when love, for a moment,
has the power to make
the soul believe
it is not alone.
And there too in a song
surfacing in a few haunting notes
that sets a longing loose
to hear it all.
Bless this grandest of days.......
Assist me Lord, to enjoy and not complain!
Only a few humble poems, help me to pen.
Not hunting for comments .......right then!
If body pains do come my way,.....
Let me not like an ungrateful, donkey bray.
Our family day is today.
Three generations to frolic and play!
Thank you for another day to live........
Allow me not to want, but to freely give!
3/7/2021
~ 1. ~
ALONG A FIELD OF WHITE
SEVEN AMERICANS WITH RED FEATHERS
SEVEN RED FEATHERED AMERICANS
PLACED WITHIN THE TV BELLY A GREAT BLACK BIRD
BLACK
BLACK BIRD
BLACK INDIAN
BLACK INDIAN RISES TO THE OCCASION
BLACKER THAN ANY OTHERS
FACED RED
THE MOOD WAS WEATHER
SNOW AND THUNDER
RED
RED
RED AGAIN
ALONG THE FIELD
THE SEVEN AMERICANS
THE SEVEN AMERICANS JUST HAPPENED TO KNOW POETRY
TALKING WORDS AS THEY WALKED
SEVEN WORDS WITH WHITE CHALK
MARKED
“See! The Black ones must dance aligned!”
MIRROR THEIR FACES
1 2 3
PAINT THEM RED
4 5 6
BLOOD
7
BLACKER THAN ANY OTHERS
LIKE WHITE THUNDER
BLACK INDIAN RISES TO THE OCCASION
MARKED WITH CHARCOAL
SOME SIGN FROM THE FIRE
THE BLUE FIRE
CARRIES SEVEN RED FEATHERS FROM HIS MEMORY
ALL IS POETRY
peace within peace within peace
dripping with grease
war within war within war
an apple core
love within love within love
not from above
stir within stir within stir
incense and myrrh
mix within mix within mix
knock them for six
kill within kill within kill
powder and pill
blood within blood within blood
dropped with a thud
spell within spell within spell
it's working well
Birth—Coronation
Belief—Creation
Pain— Debilitation
Sin—Damnation
Joy—Association
Despair—Isolation
Praise—Adulation
Time—Anticipation
Truth—Revelation
Faith—Salvation
Death—Divination
Life—Reincarnation
(Villanova Pennsylvania: July, 2016)
The light has reached
us through
shattered
vessels
sparks remain in
our souls
The scattered lights
in the darkness
ease our pain
As we touch the infinite
with trepidation
we now see the world
through new eyes
let us be secure
in the knowledge
That we must accept that there are forces
We will never be able to
totally comprehend
and that there
are unknown and inscrutable powers
acting on our behalf
All Hallows' Eve Black Mass Incantation
We Pray in The Name of Our Father Lucifer,
Which wert in Heaven:
Boil, Boil plague-ridden rats and toads in oil,
With a pair of gleaming snake eyes too.
Mix in fresh hen’s blood and a rabbit’s paw,
With a touch of horse dung and a lizard’s tail too.
Add six cups of Vitriol and a tablespoon of Goldwater.
Stew, Stew this Stygian alchemic brew for ne’r six hours
During Vespers for Our Midnight Black Mass on All Hallows’ Eve.
Serve this unholy sustenance to Our Coven at midnight,
As we pray in Great Lucifer’s name for his guidance
In defeating Jehovah’s forces of good and light.
We do this in the name of Great Lucifer—The Dark One.
We seek Blackness, Darkness, Degradation, and Negation—
As Our Coven has the power of His Power as granted
By His Unholiness when the full moon’s shadow
Crosses the face of the Earth.
Gary Bateman, Copyright © All Rights Reserved
October 5, 2014 (Narrative Incantation)
A Talismanic Incantation
By Faleeha Hassan
Translated by Mahmoud Abbas Masoud
I gathered the pores of my being
And came to perfume them with your own fragrance
Only to discover that you are an oleander -- a rosebay
While in the memory of unease and apprehension
I trace some features that resemble no one but you
An image has its own dimensions
And, when hopelessness assails me, I have roads
That never cease to pull and lead me toward you
And while in the nook of anxiety
I fancy a preordained timing
For events that never materialize
The image draws near
And I talk to it
About the tons of heavy separation
That oppress the seasons of my life
I have recited you as rain
Yet your lightning never came near me
Alienation gathered thick
Tears heaved with gushing flow
Who will tell you that
My silence is like the mouth of a volcano
I am boundless
Yet fettered only by my own memory
And you are
And will always be
The ever-never closest to me
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