Long Alterations Poems
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THE ATTRIBUTES,
OF MOTHER NATURE,
EMPHASIZE,
HER NOMENCLATURE.
ATMOSPHERIC,
ROTATING CONDITIONS,
SUPPLY ENDLESS FLURRY
OF POETIC RENDITIONS.
WINTER ,SPRING,
SUMMER AND FALL.
MOTHER NATURE
CREATED THEM ALL.
FASCINATING,
IN DISTINCTIVE WAYS .
DISPLAYING THEIR TALENTS
FOR NINETY ONE DAYS.
SNOW AND ICE,
INTO SUBLIMATION,
MATERIALIZED
HER IMAGINATION.
GRASSES AND PLANTS,
WITH MAGNIFICENT FLOWERS,
SUBCONSCIOUS FRAGRANCE
OF MYSTICAL POWERS.
ALTERATIONS,
FROM SEED TO TREE,
TRANSFORMING ICE
INTO DEEP BLUE SEAS.
DIAMONDS AND MINERALS,
JUST GOES TO SHOW,
SHE HAS A HART,
OF SILVER AND GOLD
VOLCANIC DISPLAY
OF A GOD GIVEN SOUL
BRINGS FORTH THE BEAUTY
OF MOTHER NATURES FIRST GOAL.
Michael E. Harris
08092021
Paralysis in the body makes the mind dead as well.
Doesn't existence drag, like an engine-less machine?
Though a hundred stewards assist, isn't life more than hell?
bed, like servants who never heed, remains deadly serene.
Tension and depression rise like a monsoon thunderbolt.
They stay on, like seasons, with alterations in tempers.
Anger, anxiety, and uncertainty tunnel-vault
Helplessness and hopelessness blaze like unending embers.
These found favour in the eyes of the one who came for them.
Just a look, a smile, a gentle touch, and a word of peace
In his person, he resembled the world's most precious gem.
In his presence, each one found their eternal troubles cease.
Four carried him, as though he were dead, when they came to him.
Carrying their cots, they walked, singing a grace-filled hymn.
Soul-are
Is my soul conscious at this time?
No further question marks in asking
as the query is itself the answer
tentative and playful statement
of intent of letting go solutions
to a problem which is not
The conscious soul
There is an ‘is’ somewhere
out there in there and
where they meet when
is and when they not
No definition and it is
at the point and time
the fleeting flowing moment
ever changing change
‘My’ is longing and belonging
when the meaning wanders
me in fragments wholeness
wonderment and expectation
pondering what’s mine
possessions baggage lightness
entitlements and freedom’s safety
When I am and not am and both
and stand and fall proceed
my journey un-arrested
‘Soul’ my essence source
alone conjoined the Universe
en-lived en-storied
told untold narration from within
without because of why
and how my circles spin
spiral radiate alive and morbid
mortal where the crossing
exit point and destination
questions not what there if now
is after momentary permanent
impermanence for ever lasting
going gone beheld in truth
‘Conscious’ of the contradictions
compliments of contemplation
complementing opposites and syntheses
polar angles sides perspectives
hidden exposed below the surface
and above the tidal mark
of scion’s collaborated offspring
consciousness of consciousness
transcendental comprehension
and awareness of what can
can not be understood
‘At’ where at when at
is lost and found and lost again
no at without the it and as and I
attending context inconsistent
alterations wrapped in time
location in perceptions
‘This’ that there is here
for now and when it is
and gone just when the past
has changed from present
to the future this and
present past and yet again
is what there is appraised
forgotten passed surpassed
uncommented in meditation
upon reflection feeling thought
‘Time’ so much so little just enough
and left beyond the time of time
when time has come will go and stay
forever when my consciousness
which was has gone
20th May 2016-05-16
Contest entered: Is your soul conscious at this time?
Suddenly I am aware of myself.
Where do I come from? Where am I going?
I cannot move. Some liquid surrounds me.
I drink the liquid. I grow as the liquid disappears.
I break my shell. I feel warmth, but I cannot move.
Another ball comes to me. We think to each other.
Soon things begin to change. I can walk. I can think.
We are on a planet named Earendel, a lovely place.
The other ball calls itself Plus Two and I am Plus One.
We need Minus One and Two. All four must stay together.
No reason is given. Perhaps the two Minus are in the ocean.
I look around and understand that high rocks shed water.
Water flows amongst purple trees. Their fruit is good.
We suck the water of the fruit from the purple tree.
Plus Two is anxious. We need to find Minus One and Two.
We walk to the ocean and all four meet. We form a circle.
Water churns, We drink the sweet ocean and suddenly
I become One, who sees, is tall, has two legs and is intelligent.
A super spaceship arrives. I must leave Earendel.
Our destination is on Herbig where cities abound.
I am a scientist they say. I must observe Earth. I learn
Their major languages, I observe their behavior,
Their love, their hate, their peace, their wars.
Then I am asked to go to Earth. What for? Find a solution.
They are hopeless. I am passed through a series of alterations
Until I take on the resemblance of a man. Disgusting, but
Those scientists must have changed my feelings.
I begin to walk the streets and hear their thoughts.
I need money, I need a house and above all I need a woman!
I am given all. And the woman I choose is lovely.
Of course, she is, she comes from Herbig too!!
Beguiled risks sensitive alterations
that redesigned unknots and cutup trice
as the fresh teases through the looking glass
exposing timepiece resemblance glossed spilled.
Bemused forgives absence, mindful at hand,
tenuously gripping the rolled spent yarn
that edges fingertips loosely as threads
answer questionable finds, stitch-by-stitch.
Period accentuates the sensed thence
for the bestilled entangled narrative
plots exclamation points of those foregone
chapters ... period midst frames of escape.
Styled room for maneuvering that spirals
at a loss now hangs overhead ticking ...
mockery behold guardians of greens
that grow within disoriented poise.
Blue compliments presence expressed squarely
drafting the voiceless lucid residue
that nurtured former brush and forever
sealed a dream sweeter than a Danish roll.
You carry unseen
Your book of life
White gleaming pages
On which is written
Story of your life!
Do not bend it
Or smudge it
Rip no pages
Or let not any
Falsehood be written
Or truth misspelt!
On these pages
Live the many people
Who live with you
Make no alterations
That may hurt them
Or change their cause
The house, and the car,
Do not go very far,
The medals are false,
And so the applause,
Like a hermit crab’s shell,
Will be looted by all,
On the last page,
Of your story on stage!
So in your mortal flight,
Let truth be your light,
Let not the smoke of passion,
Rob you of your reason,
Keep the book of life,
Clean, correct and nice,
When the final moment arrives,
You are ready to journey
With your unseen book of life!
I am not only my breath
of life
erupting out,
redescending in
I feel
and hear,
taste
and see,
our sacred breath
through my lungs bilaterally
waving out
with full moon bright delight
and in toward dark night
once again,
Regained center of uniting
regenerous time
extending space out Yang
empowering,
Reintending sacred placed Yintegrity
breathing my breath of life
re-emptying out and in
our Great Transitional 20/20 revolutionary breath,
reascending out
Is in
toward future healthy wealth
empowering out past history
enlightening in future multiculturing herstory
egopatriarchal alterations
ecofeminist Yang
Yin
leftbrain dominantly out
rightbrain recessing back in
win-win
Across all respiring
revolutionary
spiraling
regenerations
of greening air
and blue therapeutic water
and red anthro-privileged fire
breathing MotherEarth
of life continuously
reincarnate
rememory
reconnecting
religioning
reweaving
reinvesting
regenerate
restoring EarthJustice
inhaled
exhalations.
"Time is the thief you cannot banish."
Phyllis McGinley, Writer, 1905 - 1978
Time Passages
I drift midst some pleasant sensation~~from a morning mist,
that promptly parches within glowing ribbons~~where I sail lightly,
plucked anon afloat~~as my ramblings proceed aimlessly,
Presently skims a peacock sky~~fans out its righteous hue,
variously, ducks stapled in a pond~~quacks influences life,
views by ark's parts a motion~~equal to my emotions,
Channeling alterations that affect~~evolved futures,
preceptions are produced clearer~~like a hallway complete of doors,
whenever one is opened~~ventures varied responses,
I noted from moment to moment~~evoked fused answers,
harmonious so far~~whilst I perpetuate forward in thoughts,
mindful about yesterday's storm~~all in all, time will tell.
2020 November 13
*3rd Place*
Writing Challenge - Quote Inspired
~~Constance La France
October 31 Praises to God Bible Meditations Based on Luke 20
Key Verse – Luke 20:21 And they asked him, saying, Master, we know that thou sayest and teachest rightly, neither acceptest thou the person of any, but teachest the way of God truly.
PRAISE BE TO GOD FOR TEACHING US RIGHTLY
Praise be to God for teaching us rightly; thus we must:
Acknowledge His authority along with His assurance
Appreciate His answers against apprehensions
Apply His affirmations without alterations
Adhere to His approval amidst appraisal
Ascertain His affairs with awareness
Admire His acts along amazement
Assert His accomplishments
Luke 20:25 Praise be to the Lord for enabling us
to render unto Him the things which is His:
Being the best by His bestowments
Becoming a blessing for His business
Blooming along benefits by His bounty
Beaming with brightness through His bliss
Building boldness-blocks upon His bracing brand
Bearing burdens by His backing-up against boastfulness
Binding blunders and blames that break beauty-blossoms
Luke 20:38 Praise be to the Saviour
for He is the God the living Who:
Calls us for complete consecration
Charges us by His commandments
Cleanses us through His cross’ cost
Comforts us along His cheerfulness
Challenges us for our commitment
Cares for us with His compassion
Covers us against calamities. Amen!
October 31, 2024
[Where Have the Old Words Got Me?: Explications of Dylan Thomas's Collected Poems, 1934-1953] [Author: Ralph Maud] [February 2003]
Some of the rest I must use;
they are jeans and sweats; they are what we
forget about as symbols.
Many have been scrubbed and dyed colorless.
Some died of poverty and misuse.
We are newly comprehensible only in alterations.
The seam resewn adds threads and new flavors,
Old words are not our deliverance, they are new graves.
Where have the old words taken me?
The old words sill pimp sounds
as if in payment for accessibility. Some ply
rhymes and dangle pretty chimes
and there’s the pity.
Let me not lure you into understanding
by a worn-out rote.
It is not 'I' that confuse, it is the throat of an owl
that exhausts fresh songs.
Nothing has meaning now, unless it be new wine.
Old words must be beaten fine upon an anvil;
hung around a hooting neck
until a clearly obvious bone -
breaks.