Long Ephemeral Poems
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Time is ephemeral and finite and impermanence my place on earth
I am never perfect but hope to be good enough for this world
My sight has always been poor and I seek insight nevertheless
Knees are beginning to grind and endurance takes a bit longer
And yet life is no marathon or fast race so the grim reaper can wait
Acceptance has reached me though I stumble at a few hurdles
Impatience continues to be my defect and an impasse to healing
When challenges grip the target seems so very distant for real
So much that I flush the plunger before I pass what needs be
Waiting for Godot never was my best state of current affairs
Ingrained in me is the notion there are no problems only solutions
Thus I am insolvent for reality is not well adapted to my beliefs
However I am special some say and an unlimited edition of one
Distinctive idiosyncratic and loved by those who share my path
Blessed with kind and compassionate people who put up with me
My wife lover and soulmate shares my sweet transient journey
And I have learnt to cherish help assistance and kind guidance
I have come to embrace the fact that I am especially fortunate
26th February 2020
Obscure place,
under the lamp of none but He.
Of the first snows.
The thirst of the arterial, ephemeral flow.
Where echoes converge and become ghost, at it's Canyons.
O Knight of Strongholds,
where memories melt and disappear,
showing of me again bare, of bones, of One.
Be but the realm of the transform
a symphony of ethereal whispers,
awakening dormant dreams of the alone.
In each delicate flake, a tale unfolds,
a moment frozen romance in time's embrace,
a reminder of the transient nature,
of seasons changing, of love evolving.
As winter's icy kiss adorns the land,
knows my dream and Fairy sits on the knuckle
at my back of hand.
I am reminded of fragile beauty,
of the miracles found buckled in surrender,
in the rendering to the Destiny-Unknown,
pullAge of lever of planned-perpetuity of Clan.
Moreover, be yet a childing
sprite a flitting kiss on blank slated cheek of Eternity, to surrender at His feet, at His Throne.
In dreams of yonder, wishes wistfully conceive,
A cradle of lost tomorrows, where shadows sway;
To a realm unseen, where hearts believe,
Past where twilight’s lulling lullabies lay,
A world where reverie and reality secretly play.
Through the veil of verity…
…Aisling nocturnally creates,
Mountains of moonlight, rivers of rhyme,
A world untouched by changing tides and capricious fate.
In this land, where we lose track of all time,
A place where voices harmonize; oh, so surreal, so sublime.
A city of silence, a forest of fears,
The cloud-kissed towers, an ocean of sorrow,
Beneath twilight's gentle, silent tears.
An ephemeral world free of yesterdays and tomorrow,
A dreamscape unfolding where sleep freely borrows.
A tremor runs through castle walls,
A sigh escapes the forest deep,
Twilight's tears turn into calls
Of roosters waking from their sleep.
The ocean's sorrow shimmers pale
A canvas primed for sun's first brush.
The mountains, caught in morning's veil
Dissolves to silence, whispers hush.
As a new dawn dances
the dream dissipates
The illusion shatters
reality reinstates.
For the land was an Elysium delight
A mere mirage in the moonlit night.
Dissolving in dawn's delicate dance
…like a mist in morning sacred light.
Fading Starlight sifts through leaves, painting emerald shadows on the ground.
Lost in the morning's mellowness,
a sigh escapes,
the dream departs,
unrenown…
Though dawn reclaims the waking world,
a yearning in my heart resides,
For Elysium's lost melody,
where time and sorrow gently subside.
Consensus reality is like a desert mirage,
An aurora of shadows and lights where dreams become tangible,
Each desire intertwined with the invisible threads of common belief,
Our world, a palace of illusions, built on ephemeral foundations.
It’s like a spider’s web woven from moonbeams and silver threads,
Each step on the stage of life, a dance of eternal phantasms,
Reality, a paper note without essence,
But in which everyone believes, and this belief gives it ephemeral brilliance.
Like birds lost in the dream of a star-streaked night,
We struggle between what is and what seems to be,
Each thought, a shining pearl in an ocean of illusions,
We paint on the sky of our hearts falling paper constellations.
In this dance of shadows and light, we feed on collective dreams,
A paper reality that comes to life through united desires,
We weave words, signs, and symbols, building the ephemeral citadel,
A world of mist that disappears at the touch of hidden truth.
But in this sweet melancholy, we discover hidden beauty,
In the game of appearances, in the illusory theater of our lives and dreams,
Each role played, a cadence of an eternal waltz,
A secret poem where reality reveals its enigmatic and fragile face.
Consensus reality is the reverie that unites us in the cosmic dance,
Each heartbeat, an echo of common fables,
And in this play of light and shadow, we breathe pure magic,
A fairy tale of stardust wherein our beliefs take shape and life itself.
Therefore, let us keep the dream alive under the enchanted moonlight,
While our paper birds fly free through eternity,
Our reality, a delicate poem woven from threads of gold and silver,
A melancholic magic that breathes through the infinite faith of our hearts.
Prison of binding, within lies a story.
An ephemeral tale, both handsome and hoary.
Swordplay like lightning clashes.
Ballet steps, graceful with thunderous lashes.
A monstrous castle with many a hidden room.
Fire breathing dragons with golden scales of doom.
The princess in the tower, with one window and one door,
desires to be rescued so she can even the score.
An evil witch grinds her unkempt nails upon the wall,
wanting all wishes and dreams to tumble and fall.
Sages surround the courageous prince.
Some traitors, some wise attempt to convince,
which way the bars might bend within the pages.
The author’s story always ends after the wicked pays their wages.
1/3/2017
By candlelight I listen
As the whisper of the evening
Slow unfolds.
Your voice treads lightly
Tiptoed to my ear.
The coolness of the air
Lays down upon our sharing;
A touching of our souls is all I hear.
I long to stretch in repetition
Those few moments rare;
Reach out with cat-like quickness
Snatching each to pass my eye;
Storing them in some great cookie jar,
Consuming each so delicate, by and by.
We know that what we have is rare;
The treasured time we share,
How precious now to slow release
And tease from us ephemeral care.
It is the clothing of the spirit
We who love, must wear.
Iridescence and subliminal flow has condensed within your fragrant bower,
a scene of isolated beauty that portrays the essence of all splendour and redeeming
power.
You are repose and renewal to my longing soul
which in hunger for such a sight could have stayed unrequited still!
barren and with plighted role unto my desperate ill.
Now seen suffused in the radiant glow of you, like mirrors
are placed surrounding flowers inset in your resting place or in bunches,
frieze like and still, are coloured floral showers.
They experience no passing hour, in lilac clad repose, you gift this domain
with abundant russet locks a’ spray in a cascade of feral purity
shining vibrant gleams, diaphanous and serenity proclaimed.
You exude ephemeral and delicate majesty in coalescence
with this limpid mystic scene, pure spiritual visions profound combine
with siren-like illusion seen.
Desire calls as from traces etched on heavenly walls,
reflected pinions fan-like show through emerald hued illumination
in subtle sweeps below the surface of this inviolable creation.
© Joe Maverick 21-02-2011
Footnote: I have written this piece for the Reflections contest by Constance La
France. This is a fictional write and I ascribe none of the above attributes to the
scene or character names, these same attributes belonging solely to Yahwah, the
one God manifest as Father, Son and Holy Spirit.
You have haunted the garden of my thoughts, unaware of the endless conversations,
About sea butterflies and flights mingled with white, forgetful snows.
I wove you into the celestial tapestries, you were my astral laboratory of dreams,
A solar vagabond returning from a dark night to caress the dawn once more.
In profound silence, I have tried to paint you on the stretched canvas of serenity,
With tones of fantasy, in my heart, the sanctuary of your barely visible halo.
And how often, wrapped in murmurs, you fell like a star into my open palms,
Bestowing upon me, from your astral trials, a warm and ephemeral embrace.
I called out to you, ah, secretly, in dreams whisper by whisper, to return from where you departed,
To rebirth hope in my far-off seasons, to rewrite the stories of the fallen leaves.
Among remnants of long-set autumns, you were the invitation to my new springs,
To give life to my wanderings among ruins, to drape your promising tomorrows over an ashen yesterday.
Yet you never knew, I never let the words swim freely towards your shore,
How sharp was the needle of longing that stitched my days with its invisible and heavy thread.
The sea tear filled the inner seas, reaching dry shores, salted by sighs,
Loaded with that innocent suffering that dissipated within, unseen by your eyes.
Once addicted to carnality opium’s ecstasy
My flesh reigned with selfishness-excellency…
…But God, so merciful in His clemency
Transformed me to acknowledge His satisfaction-sufficiency.
Once exalted upon vain glory’s elegance
My heart towered toward destructive arrogance…
Yet the Lord, gracious in His forbearance
Pulled me toward meekness’ endurance.
Once afflicted by woes of poisonous transgression
My soul was slain midst venomous iniquity’s infection...
…But the Creator, verily the Author of revival action
Quickened* me to testify about His redeeming compassion.
Once destined to hell, condemned by sin-wages
My mind succumbed to humanism midst earthliness’ sages…
…But the Saviour, by His pardon assuring holy changes
Reached out to me, freeing me from damnation charges.
Once gripped with materialistic enrichments
My spirit could not abstain from worldly engagements…
…But the Almighty offered heavenly bestowments
Drew me near His fellowship of significant celestial moments.
Once drained from the pursuits of ephemeral endeavour
My life lost its essence according to divine flavour…
…But Christ with His grace midst sweet serenity’s savour
Wrought miracles for me and my faith-serving fervour.
*1Peter 3:18 For Christ also hath once suffered for sins, the just for the unjust, that he might bring us to God, being put to death in the flesh, but quickened by the Spirit.
August 20, 2019
1st place, "STRAND CHOICE 6, any form, any theme"
Sponsored by Brian Strand; judged on 1/26/2020.
Torrid sunshine blisters reign on pavement,
that colour coded coffee stain slipway,
bearer of insole-laden footwear,
open source channel for glib hot air calculus from starchy social climber, stock market drivel flies off tongue,
strolling human morph blasé with pin pad digit as foundation.
Monumental science, deep seat hi tech driver,
gigabyte trencherman data daze diet.
Brain spur gourmet chew astride.
Former high school swot an Eiffel Tower skyline ace thrust upon a thrill weaver gold rush,
never found but one can always dream.
YouTube zeitgeist earthling
has this inner sense of being from another planet,
this quaint fast lane time zone voyageur.
Like house trained pets they watch their owner grudgingly abandon sham control.
Wafer thin leash a scrimshaw ornament.
The plot thickens but somehow comes undone,
bit part player yearns holistically for untangled bits with interlocking act,
in depth scene dialogue now bill topper if only it would last.
They long for blue flag coast escape,
homely hide out guest house fringe found loitering perniciously or otherwise.
Birdhouse green leaf copycat
assembly for well intentioned like minds that rarely think alike unless it suits.
Caught between ephemeral impasse and amber moon orb dalliance, their noble quest waylay but an out of date signage in urgent need of reinvention.