Long Cloud covered Poems
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639.
Meditation on the 4th Luminous Mystery:
The Transfiguration
With Peter, James & John, Jesus went up on a mountain
(Where they would experience the glory of God's reign)
As Jesus Christ became as bright as the sun
(Before the very eyes of Peter, James & John)
This is the 4th Luminous Mystery – The Transfiguration
During that moment of God's shining glory
(Moses & Elijah appeared alongwith Thee)
When Peter suggested to make tents for Jesus, Moses & Elijah
(A bright cloud covered them alongwith the Messiah)
The fruit of this mystery – Desire for Holiness
Oh God who had made Thy glory shine bright like the sun
(Thy marvelous glory affirmed by Thy Son)
The God who is the light of the world
(In darkness our lamp is the Lord)
As “The Transfiguration” had shown “Desire for Holiness”
Lord God, like in “The Transfiguration”, we desire to be holy
(So that we can be as radiant as Thy shining glory)
Like Jesus Christ who transformed into something so bright
(We also want to bask in Thy divine light)
Praise God! We realized “Desire for Holiness” through the 4th Luminous Mystery.
-04/11/2019
*Meditations on the Mysteries of the Holy Rosary
I take my pain to where ragers rage and writhe
in their self-absorbed gluttony on all-winter days
their tea cups are only for them
interspersed with silence and solitude
the streets are buildings without them
who are the signposts talking too?
I could have been one of them
I was one of them
and still am if hills facing the sun are cloud covered
and I don’t look out of the window to notice
then, in those un-costumed days, I am
but, and it has taken rotations of earth
backpacking through antonyms, through tropics
I have conquered tinnitus, now a comfort blanket
aiding sleep as a heart monitor line crossing a screen
I have conquered deep wells, now jews harps
jaw harps if you prefer, gewgaws, yes I have conquered
the cave of crawling space days
goblins are only a light switch and their rising finger away
but my rising finger plucks at overtones and distances
between neurons, between stars, between mees
its sound soothing, rubbing balm on a restive chest
the vibrations are fizzing and feeding me
I take my white noise and float away
sound, my therapy
Life doesn’t feel the same, My Darling,
Deprived of your passionate love,
Each and every day aimlessly drags on,
Each and every day feels dreary and treacherous!
Days were joyfully enchanting, nights were supremely blissful,
Never realized parting was so acutely hard!
But came a time there was turbulence in
The relationship, a dark cloud covered our horizon!
My heart sank, tears uncontrollably filled my eyes,
But decision, right for both of us, needed to be taken,
although my heart shattered like a broken-winged bird's,
I stood still - not letting grief drown me miserably!
Deprived of your love - is that fully true!
Pure Love is a gift we rarely receive in a lifetime,
We still love each other…I believe, Love does not end,
Cruel fate decides the eventual direction of our path!
The leaden cloud-covered sun
relentlessly starves the summer harvest-
strangling its life-giving light to wield the death
of all filaments and assemblance of living green.
Leaves plot their fate turning into a fiery protest
of orange, yellow, cinnabar, and tawny brown
in a masterful profusion of their demise.
The wind razes its fervent unseen force
to command the passionate throes of change
whirling to steal leaves from shedding trees,
carrying them in the lofts of shivering air
upon the gathering storm clouds
as they tumble into the gravity
of winter’s saga of severity.
Pale ochre light flows from
a sallow golden paint brush
atop the cascade of an October sky
tangled in the surrendering landscape.
My eyes turn within to gaze upon golden years
of crumbling bones and deepening heart.
I falter in welcoming the withering and rust
the sleety stillness and frigid tempests
as this magical mix of bountiful warmth
of flaunting colors kindle embers holding the sun
to spurn the shorter days and longer nights.
Moments of recollection fall with autumn leaves
presenting the splendid moments dredged from the past.
I embrace each one as it turns in the wind
flaunting its ancient ritual in glorious moments of dying.
I revisit my life imbued with the gentle change of autumn.
This solemn creature nestles its head back on the smooth-sided rock, inside this hollowed house of irregular shapes and sides.
The cloud-covered moon rises slowly, calming the surrounding landscape and lulling it into a dreary daze.
The trampled grass stands still, creating a zigzag silhouette along the horizon. The wind blows like a conversation, whispering in a lost language of nature with its intermittent gusts.
A broken branch disrupts the peace, echoing like footsteps in a sleepy early-morning street, while a crackling fire spits and hisses, evoking a jaded theory, a fear of history repeating and perpetually renewing this feeling—no bottom, no ceiling.
The damp residue collects on the sides of this shadowed mountain hollow, falling patiently like an ever-growing snowball of defeat.
The morning sun warms the cold, damp hollow where the creature lies, welcoming the day with joy and hope. The fear of darkness and the unknown that kept it hidden has given way to a self-proclaimed protest against its petrified state of mind.
Thank you for your still laboring pains.
Thanks for the amnesia of suffering
the bedpan and the bible,
the sunny window
that ran with a watery blood
wherever the flying ducks
rushed toward your gun.
Fingertips tingle, the daily callus is softening,
becoming bearable
the way a fox forgets its trap shattered paw.
Thanks for the moonlight dispensed
in cloud-covered dreams.
The applauding grateful
must have partaken of your loaves and fishes
where hooked worms still dangle
bereft of hungry lips.
We are the tenderest of prey again,
the catch we have all been looking for.
What more can be said when gratitude runs away
with its desires still wriggling
and fleshy.
Thank you;
for your mastering love
hath consumed the apple in our mouths
and we are served up
in wide-eyed wonder once more.
Renewed life (9/28/12)
It was mid- afternoon and the sun was hot
As my eyes searched for a cool shaded spot.
But there was none to be found
As my feet burned from the scorching ground.
It seemed like miles that I had traveled
As my thoughts became unraveled.
Thinking about how my life had been
And in this battle could I win.
I lost my job, my house, my family too
Walking these streets not knowing what to do.
But there was something that for years
I had not done or tried
As I fell to the ground and began to cry.
LORD ! My life has become empty and hollow
Is this a sign - that with you I should follow?
Right there and then a cloud covered the sun
When I heard a voice say “your life has just begun”.
Follow this path that I will give
And you will see what it is to live “
Then the sun reappeared and washed away all my fears.
In its place came relief, and with it a new belief.
Of HOPE , FAITH , AND LOVE
Given to me from above.
I followed his path and spread his word
And preached to others that had never heard.
In the homeless shelters I found my flock
And from that point on - I did not stop.
The homeless now have their faith renewed
And this was the path that I had to do.
I had lost and gave up everything
From my old life, and the path
I now follow is of paradise.
© L . RAMS
Enthronement
Prosperity slain in greed's palace .
filthy filth served on the altar of men
ignorance smothering wisdom.
strand for strand
precarious tide from the Western River
Oblivious Sun rising from the eastern horizon.
devastating wind from the Northern Desert
overflowing waters pouring from the Delta
All Fighting in the blood rain
in hope of being the sole heir of the manor
From afar, the rising sun darkens.
wailing at the sunken river
Burnt by the northern heat.
losing its fountain spill.
Then he appears as a night's dream.
the hope of blooming tomorrow
festival of heightened panache
shedding brightness on the cloud-covered skies
harbinger of good tidings
the rightful heir to the throne..
Her trembling twilight
dims with streaking purple tears
bruised by youthful years of bleeding pain
hurting but never hugged—
locked in arms of atmosphere’s apathy
that smeared with fiendish fingers
a contusing plum palette
across any hope in her godforsaken horizon—
this sorrowful songbird
who sings with the shattered purity
of violin strains falling from Heaven
finds her bemoaning musical notes adrift—
lost on breezy deaf days
as she is once again thrown down
from the self-serving skyscape
by the hateful hands of wildcat winds.
In the deep inkwell
of lullaby-less lonely nights
where never a tender nursery rhyme
has ever set her free
are memories scribed of storm-battered days
and weighing heavily on Libra’s scales
are the injustices
of dreams she will never live
nor flights of fancy she will never take
as her sire of solar scorch and temper flare
—a warpath warrior against her springtime
sleeps soundly on a bloated bed
over-stuffed with betrayal and broken promises
while her merciless maternal moon—
distant and cloud covered
does not bother to wander the coal haze
with a lantern’s sharp beam
to cut through stranglehold-folds of darkness
to cast a light upon; to rescue her fractured form—
an angel beckons as breath and beat fade
her guardian as she passes through Earth's shadow
beyond the coldness of mother-moon's umbra
following to where warm sugar-stars soprano sing.
Tonight— a stricken sparrow
folds her fledgling wings never to fly again…
will land or air ever miss her?
From way up high in the cloud-covered sky
A snowflake traverses toward the ground
In its crystallized form a new season is born
And it lands without making a sound
Darkness arrives before the start-for-home drives
So much earlier it begins to get late
Convertible tops have their openings stop
And baseball teams start to hibernate
Autumn is here, the first snowman is near
Candy corn I am starting to crave
In front of our home are some skeleton bones
Coming out of a makeshift grave
Turkeys get carved so that nobody starves
Footballs are flying through the air
Kids start being good like always they should
Thinking elves might be everywhere
As the seasons change, fireplace logs I arrange
And start to winterize our place
I am wearing a smile as long as a mile
Autumn put it right there on my face