Long Ethereal Poems
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I am less disillusioned when I follow my ethereal plan
She lives in my id, so it is a relief when I reach that plane of existence
It takes prayer and meditation and a child-like attitude.
I have to throw the super ego and ego out the window
Luckily they fly off quickly, hoping to disturb others.
The bubble of illusion to me is the importance of the ID
The “I” part of myself is such a tiny part of who I am.
We are all connected, we are united, we are God’s people
We are God’s plan. When we follow our hearts, we know this.
I follow my heart, loving my id, who is rolling her eyes at ego.
Written 5-18-2022
Contest: Bubble of Illusion
Sponsor: Unseeking Seeker
The parachute cloud like a rainbow wave,
undulates up and down - a swooshing sound.
The force of a light breeze or a great storm.
Voices lifting and buoyant, glory bound.
Soft lilting lyrics with angelic glow.
The parachute cloud like a rainbow wave
spurs lightning sparks into expectant eyes.
Flood of pleasing screams cajoled to behave.
Holding on, parent’s hands on the cusp of time.
Ethereal friendships made in the round.
The parachute cloud like a rainbow wave,
undulates up and down, a swooshing sound.
The storm of toddlers underneath resound
with gleeful voices, stomping feet too loud,
but powerful - the joys and smiles, it gave —
the parachute cloud like a rainbow wave.
7/4/2018
Written: January 19, 2024
____________________________________
Wondrous cymbals
in choral harmony
enraged scarlet wing beats
in a fierce rhapsody!
Countless moments
strung together.
Echoes pelt,
of unfulfilled desires
a minute hand race
without a tether
horizon turns a fuchsia shade
as mauve
streaks paint a show
purple dreams
catch fire and glow.
Swirling seraphic sways
while you glide
on ethereal waves
euphoric whirls of
azulene loops
euphuistic?
Fantasies swirl
in the velvet eyes
As the sliver
of the moon alights
The blushing sunset
rekindles yearnings
Zephyr is honeyed
by the lavender petals
Fragrant allegories
smote my essence
A velvet cloak of dreams
dances across my skin
My heart's sleeves
pirouette in bliss
Words of love
Braille-alike soft kisses
Tender promises
mingle sweet breaths
Gives a heady
rush akin to mulled vinegar.
A chilling pulse, a numb sigh
where does the boundary lie?
between life and death?
shattered verbal tidbits
may spiral beyond sight;
speaking is perilous
from feeble fingers
and wild gazes
assuming I am silent
with a talent quadrant,
a quail in the bush,
diction falling mushy
notice my words
I taught them to rhyme
still not worth your time
hearts were forsaken
by a haze of ideas
I believe I'll speak to stones.
There is somewhere out there in ethereal space
not of this Earth or any known place.
I fear that humanity won’t understand,
we are not on our own in a singular land.
Galaxies and planets are things of the mind,
we set the boundaries made for mankind.
There are more kinds of beings than ever we see
and they are all living for eternity.
Beyond all the barriers of our physical lobbies
some creatures ‘may not’ incarnate into bodies.
I’ve travelled with them both in goodwill and fear,
have not any doubt they are really quite near.
But where is this ‘near’, it exists in ‘our’ space,
you’ll travel by spirit to enter this place.
It will not be found by using six senses
but flying away from our world’s pretences.
Demons and Devils and Angels and Gods
all reside in this place where you’ve never trod.
I know for I’ve been there, I’ve walked on this track,
go look, but make certain you mark the way back.
Ivor G Davies
The Sweetest Starlight
You are the sweetest starlight shining across the ocean so pure
Moonlighting and enchanting my dreams with warmth aglow,
Touching gently my heart and soul with your beauty and wonder;
If we were together—I would hold you so gently in my arms and I
Would forever kiss your adoring lips with a passionate goodnight.
Love is a faraway queen rising in the morning sunshine’s warm rays,
And your light glows brilliantly as the dewdrops glisten on my dreams
Of pure sweet surrender and kiss the very depth of my immortal soul;
You are the light of Heaven's dream of a rainbow's flight of angels
Arriving at Heaven’s gate and coming to me on a beam of silver light.
Mesmerized I am as I embrace you as the heart, soul, passion and
Desire of my life—I see you as my true dream and my heart’s delight;
Feeling palpably your wonderful caress as you ask me to kiss you,
And to place your ethereal lips upon my very own knowing that
My heart and soul are open now to your loving heavenly embrace.
Gary Bateman, Liam McDaid, and Michael Clarke
A Collaborated Poem, Copyright © All Rights Reserved
August 2, 2015 (Unrhymed Quintain)
when the soul-stars
dream
and die,
their dusk-dust
drifts
like dew-light
into my skin~
a wisp-woven
whisper-seam
the cosmos
stitched
in secret
O star-scar,
soft
as a silver
spell,
you shimmer
in the hush
between
heartbeats~
a moon-mended
memory
of the moment
the universe
unraveled
and then
re-threaded
itself
through me
I feel you
flicker~
a faint
feather-flare
of fire
rising
through
the rift
not pain,
but aurora~
a pale
pulse
of returning
radiance
when the cosmos
unstitched
its silver
script
across my back,
I thought
the void
would swallow
every vowel
of me
but the universe
is a patient
phoenix-seamstress~
she gathers
fallen starlight,
glimmer-grain
by glimmer-grain,
and lays it
gently
in the seam
where I once
broke
now twilight
trails
its caramel-calm
along my spine,
and the scar
glows
like a soft
star-stitch
sigal~
a place
where breaking
became
breath
O mythic mark,
moon-kissed,
meteor-bright,
you are the lull
between galaxies,
the lantern-lit
lullaby
the sky
forgot
to sing
and when
the soul-stars
dream again,
their dusk-dust
shimmers
through the seam~
a quiet
quiver
of cosmic
remembering
I rise
in that
whisper-white
wonder,
a unicorn-ethereal
ember,
phoenix-fine,
learning
once more
to live
in the light
that lingers
after
dying
In the ethereal domain
Ascended masters we revere are seen
Thus soul’s ascension seems endless
Is the clear knowing from this that we glean
We are as yet in a primitive stage
Myriad fears and desires still bemuse
Awareness stuporous, we flounder in darkness
Falling prey every time, to ego’s ruse
Of what use are scriptures, if we heed them not
All that’s asked of us is we learn to love
The path too has been clearly mapped out
Let head meld with heart, acting hand in glove
We are ignorant, knowing not who we are
We’re fearful to let go of lower mind
Tragic it is, we know not we’re living light
To glory of our soul, we remain blind
22-July-2022
Dear Muse,
sometimes
you are dull, senseless,
paralyzingly, protractedly mute.
You determinedly adhere to the dancehall wall,
no magic spell conjuring
when melodies swell;
instead, you seem repelled by the score,
whether upbeat or quiet.
Limp, lifeless limbs refuse to be lifted
to perform,
lend shape to the theme,
your mouth does not open to give me
words that will live on my pen,
you disdain to even begin
but are sepulchral, voiceless,
stifled.
No stimulation stirs,
imagination is dormant,
static,
seemingly dead.
I inhabit the dance floor alone.
Sometimes
you are a ready partner,
we blithely dance the night
with effervescent steps,
ethereal,
fast or slow, we go
circling the gleaming floor.
You, so stately and steady,
shape me to the charms of your tango or waltz.
My gown drifts,
lifts with the spell of movement,
turning and spinning or sensuously drifting,
bending me to your elegant flow.
The music you choose holds me captive
crescendos and quiets in turns,
it yearns and yawns in my marrow,
burns like a lover desiring release.
Emotional waves sweep my psyche,
feelings that never knew names,
flames and ices tormenting,
beauties and wonders transcending.
Ink swirls drape on pale parchment
birthing images
like caged birds of exquisite plumage
once freed
soar with wind in their wings.
May 13, 2022
©1996 RICO LEFFANTA
Apache Ga-an are like the disciples of Christ, they were most highly respected
Missionaries condemned the Ga-an as “Devil Dancers,” and called them inferior
“New World” new beliefs, but even the woman and children were unprotected
Apaches totally rejected a religion where humans only are considered superior
Evil men, who taught they were above everything else, “The Chosen Ones”
Apache language was unaccepted, so punished when it was proudly spoken
Franciscan’s, Jesuits, Spaniards, Comanches, confinement, disease, and guns
Killed, called them savages, or their spirits and bodies were gradually broken
The dance ceremony is performed to drum and song, and mostly at night
Four dancers representing different cardinal directions north, south, east, west
The messenger, “clown” with a dual nature is the only one who wears white
Dancers represent mountain spirits, their masks prepared by a shaman guest
A bull roarer or whistle starts the ceremony to create an ethereal sound
The ceremony is performed at na’ih’es, girl’s adulthood initiation ritual
Flashing adding to the dazzling effect are the mirrors on the crowned
Apache, indigenous peoples, associate with spirituality and are habitual
Powerful mountain spirits and a comical teacher who heals through laughter
You may see the Ga-an rise from the flames, when you hear the messenger
The dancer’s bodies painted with symbols and patterns, stars, of here after
Today, more enlightened Americans call the Ga-an, “Crown Dancers” ~
"From deep within my heart,
I always catch the scent of my Beloved.
How can I help but follow that fragrance?" ~ Rumi
________________________________
Bliss pheromones radiate from our glowing heart
Fragrance divine penetrates each cell of our form
As ignition renewal moment to moment does start
We’re enveloped in bliss mists, soothing and warm
Divine feminine’s abode is at the root of our spine
She’s Shakti, the kinetic aspect of our energy body
Her dance bewitching causes love for love to pine
Soul imbibes Her blissful elixir when heart’s ready
The potential aspect of Holy Spirit is at our crown
He’s Shiva or we may say, womb of universal mind
Shakti and Shiva entwining at heart, in bliss drown
Thus releasing our soul from egoic fetters that bind
Inner polarities of mind and senses slowly awaken
In delight, we choose to be consumed by the flame
We’re transfixed in rapture, transmuted and shaken
Call this by any name but we’re no longer the same
Oh hermit, to be graced by this ethereal magnetism
Gently glide in tranquil silence into the heart centre
Teasing caress of love divine illuminates body prism
This ineffable joy beyond measure is ours if we enter
14-July-2022
(177 word count checked on PS)
Rhyme Rumi Quote Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Sotto Poet