Long Eye of the hurricane Poems
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Safe, at long last,
behind closed, locked doors and windows,
behind heavy, hanging, purple drapery:
plush, pellucid, subterranean refuge.
Far from the proverbial maddening crowd,
out of sight: a dimly lit room, bathed in
soft, golden reflections. In the centre of
the room: a single, solitary candle burning,
its flame rising, dancing, serpentine;
all around, panoramic, rustic mosaics
quiver and leap across the walls:
towering stags, drunken centaurs, gladiators, spiteful, leering gods;
the ghost of sound echoes,
bouncing through ceramic, glass, and stone hills:
Motion in Rest,
the eye of the hurricane,
the calm before the storm.
At the end of the day,
people still holy,
w/ rites still sacred,
secret, hidden eyes.
Ones "deep-dark", to be sure,
but decidedly not "dreamless".
All around: reassuring, but oddly unending smiles,
ones perpetual, fixed, but only seemingly uninhabited,
ones laid among polished scales and in tough, gleaming skin.
In a room filled with playful, reeling, ecstatic confusion and revelation
reigning supreme, the supplicants' legs fail on what seems to be a
swaying, rocking floor. Mesmerizingly bright sedan chairs invitingly blaze by the walls. Draped in luxurious purple, the divans are infinite, are more desirable, more coveted than any treasure trove, any silver gold.
A bottomless, almost overwhelming calm descends.
Outside itself, and if only for "a brief shining moment",
the Mind, in all Its glory, seems infinitely deeper, farther
reaching, more focused, but free.
The axe can no longer fall.
Soon I will be traveling
To the valley of the stars
And the shoreline of the Milky Way
Where near connects to far.
My senses fading rapidly
As darkness closes in
Like a fog bank over mountain tops
Void of sound or wind.
Bow and arrow-headed past Polaris
Beyond Orion’s belt –
Galaxies beyond galaxies
Or anything yet seen or felt.
Star-dust bound to that forever now
Eternally timeless life and death –
To the Maker of matter and anti-matter
And giver of life and breath.
Minstrel of music, Painter of skies
One for All and All in One –
Where old is new as morning dew
And darkness and light come from.
Where departures are deceptive and death reflective
Of times and places we’ve known –
Where déjà vu’ is nothing new
And oceans turn to snow.
Where once upon a mystery
In those early Christian miles –
I heard Jesus laughing and Buddha clapping
The day I learned to smile.
With Shiva dancing and Lipizzons prancing
In a wave-like, particle spin –
Where uncertainty turns to reality
And disappears like a by-gone wind.
Where stretching the bounds of life itself
Is a weirdly – wonderful ride –
Like falling from a roller coaster down below
And the bottom is nothing
but sky.
I’m going back there and everywhere
In the eye of the hurricane storm –
Into the realm of the looking glass
Where memories and dreams are born.
Where truth is a lie and fiction real
And proof is a playful thing –
Where telekinesis is more than a thesis
And the universe sparkles and sings.
And the warm Light of Transcendence and others in attendance
Wait where the river runs deep –
For another soul’s travel to try and unravel
How far we can go when we sleep.
Where yesterday lives with tomorrow today
And heaven is real as green grass –
For you, me and they and all who obey
In the laws of good nature that lasts.
Where consciousness resides love never dies
And home’s not a place but a thought –
Separation ended, hatred suspended
And nothing more needs to be sought.
Here are some questions, dear poets on Poetry Soup. As we look in within, we may find answers we have been looking for, beyond narrow conditioning and dogmatic beliefs. There can be more than one ‘right answer’ and of course, we can always silently choose the invisible fifth option ‘none of the above’. Be that as it may, it suffices that we’re peeping into our soul.
Ramana had queried ‘Who am I?’
a) we are this body identity
b) we are the thoughts streaming through us
c) we are a subset of a race or religious order
d) we are eternal living light, encased in five sheaths
What is the noumena wherefrom arises phenomena?
a) an unknown God said to be omnipresent
b) the word, as said in John 1.1
c) the cosmic egg, Hirayangarbha
d) there are no ‘others’; we are in a lucid dream
Given that God is omnipresent, He must be within. Where is He hiding?
a) in the cave of our heart as love
b) within the region of head as awareness
c) at our navel, radiating power
d) as our breath, heartbeat and magnetism enabling life
What does God look like?
a) Jesus. He must be Jesus only and no other
b) The holy trinity representing love, wisdom and power
c) Space and time entwined ~ the eternal witness
d) Soft white, all pervading living light
What lies beyond death?
a) the heavens we have been told about
b) nothing. We are extinguished.
c) the astral and casual realms
d) there is no death. Body dies, we, as soul, live on
What is Turiya, the fourth state?
a) we know only of waking, dreaming and deep sleep
b) it is the unchanging screen of awareness
c) a singularity defying delineation
d) silence and stillness ~ eye of the hurricane
What is the Kundalini or Chi or Holy Spirit?
a) there is no such thing
b) it is the Divine Mother, kinetic aspect of God’s energy
c) don’t ask please. This question offends my beliefs
d) the three terms of the question are not interchangeable
If all be one, why does everything seem dualistic?
a) dance of polarities in the womb of existence
b) veil of maya
c) creation of thought
d) well, it is dual. We are each a separate entity.
Hope you enjoyed!
27-January-2023
The Multiple Choice Poem Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Suzanne Delaney
Knowing eye of the hurricane is still,
Heart’s tranquil in the void of cessation,
Simply allowing God to do His will.
All that’s manifest, is God’s creation.
The table’s laid, everything’s ready made;
Heart’s tranquil in the void of cessation.
We search for joy, that with time does not fade;
Enabled when we choose to surrender.
The table’s laid, everything’s ready made.
Have we felt not within, silent thunder?
Bliss, as in scriptures, ours for the asking,
Enabled when we choose to surrender.
Ceasing striving, ending multitasking,
We feel heightened rapture, within resume;
Bliss, as in scriptures, ours for the asking.
Employing free will, to cravings exhume,
Knowing eye of the hurricane is still,
We feel heightened rapture, within resume,
Simply allowing God to do His will.
10-April-2022
AN ORIGINAL TERZANELLE Poetry Contest
Sponsor: L Milton Hankins
the eye of the hurricane is still
humming silently with potent power
as is the animated stillness continuum
preceding the emission of heart’s pure intent
thought cessation of consciousness self-aware
holding erect all energies in perfect balance
enlivens the bardo with a magnetic pulse
ushering ineffable aesthetic delight
behold how polarities within mingle
benign bliss beats generating cool heat
causing soma nectar to drip through form
soundless thunder felt by holder of the flame
oriented as such in mood and mode of vibrancy
empty within and nonchalant to outcomes
fully present in the now continuum
soul delights in every offering
retracing our steps back to source
befriending silence, poised in stillness
slowing down thought and gentling touch
our single eye peeps through pores of space
as an individuated module of God consciousness
subtler than space and more potent than fire
we transcend limitations of linear time
both immanent and transcendent
watching the ebb and flow of tides
we dip in and out of shimmery illusions
from the stillness fulcrum beyond space time
we fully partake of and then release each embrace
~ leaving behind no residue
The pages meet my fingertips again
Tenderly guiding the ink, as if it were rotten bile
Channelling all away
To minimal change of my world
The illusory script does not function
To the disappointment of myself and the happiness of others
And again to my bewilderment.
The room spins even though.
A dumb look washes over my face or it must have
Reality pixelates and I feel a weight at the side of my head
Up and down it nods as if opening up the plates
Ripping apart the fabrics with a sickening tear
One that plays a sweet discordant melody,
I grip the fruit infront of me
It secretes black ink that stains all,
Faux grass in between the toes, infront of a square sunset
Smothered in a blue lens,
Chunks of stuck food appear in the line of sight
Punches and stabs and what feels like betrayal
Too many words entered the ear
Removing the eye of the hurricane I float in
Drawing it back in where it does not exist
Impossible but the best course of action anyway
Deserved, echoing throughout
Truth mixes with it, alkaline
Yet still only serving to increase my pain.
The swirling parts ever so slightly in my mind
As the mantra repeats.
Not more than they say,
The glass ceiling never being broken.
Be kinder. Be more assertive.
Orders taken and meals thrown
Up into the mind the storm halts.
And the pen glides still,
Soul, guts and heart,
Empty and raw.
The lights went out.
The trees were torn.
The sky was gray.
The night was born.
The lightning crashed.
The thunder roared.
We were caught in the eye of the hurricane.
We were caught in the eye of the storm.
We were caught by the lights that lit the sky.
We were caught in the eye of the storm.
The rain cam down.
The thunder roared.
The rain came down.
The trees were torn..
The rain came down.
It crashed to the ground.
We were caught in the eye of the storm.
We were caught in the eye of the hurricane.
We were caught in the eye of the storm.
We were caught by the lights that lit the sky.
We were caught in the eye of the storm.
As we watched the storm pass.
We watched the winds blow.
As we watched the storm pass.
We watched the storm grow.
We were caught in the eye of the hurricane.
We were caught in the eye of the storm.
We were caught by the lights that lit the sky.
We were caught in the eye of the storm.
We were caught in the eye of the storm....
Stormy-Weather-Poem By Kim Robin Edwards
Copyright 1985,2014..ALL rights reserved..
Oh what did you see, my blue-eyed son?
And what did you see, my darling young one?
I saw truth tellers doxed, and their addresses listed
I saw images on my cellphone put on by the twisted
I saw a prophet wailing as he was dragged to the madhouse
I saw madmen gaining all the levers of power
I saw wolves out of jail while their victims cower
I saw fools arm in arm with those who would kill them
I saw indoctrination vultures above me turning
Know-it-alls told me what to think, but I wasn't learning
I saw a meteor of old glory barely burning
And it's a hard, it's a hard
It's a hard, it's a hard
It's a hard rain's a-gonna fall
And what did you hear, my blue-eyed son?
And what did you hear, my darling young one?
I heard desperate fathers called domestic terrorists
I heard speech is violence and violence is speech
I heard the fury of a woman scorned
I heard a prediction of vengeance, a new weapon borned
I strained my ears in the eye of the hurricane
And it's a hard, it's a hard
It's a hard, it's a hard
It's a hard rain's a-gonna fall
And what'll you do now, my blue-eyed son?
And what'll you do now, my darling young one?
I'll hike through the garden with high rising fountains
I'll go off into the forest, and up the mountains
I'll swim cross the ocean, and glide on the river
I'll raft the white water, before the oncoming slaughter
And it's a hard, it's a hard
It's a hard, it's a hard
It's a hard rain's a-gonna fall...
Devil sits in burning battlefield pits.
In the foyer of war, ripped eyes.
Scratches on the nightlight.
Beneath the crib of an unborn child.
Devil flashes teaspoons of loneliness.
Travels the backwoods of mind.
A sinister baker in the cupboard.
Honey baked with a pinch of lye.
Devil was in the mouth of Genesis.
And will surely join the ends.
Devil wears the skin of your defeat.
But claims to be your friend.
Devil sashays in the eye of the hurricane.
Wallows deep in the barrel of a gun.
Yellow smile fills his rancid masks.
While shooting the rapids of your blood.
Devil lies deep within the mustard seed.
The suns, moons, and drifting clouds.
A wicked pitchfork tipped with sin.
Turning heavenly upside down.
Tossed about through the turbulence of life,
Confusion remains to search for a seed.
As if the eye of the hurricane seeks direction,
Only to find no compass for its need.
Does this curious resolve weaken & wobble,
Or grow stronger through the effort & quest ?
While every response creates another,
And chaos may contribute to severely test.
The desire that looks to an unknown horizon,
May often see emptiness to follow despair.
Yet choice must pierce through this fog & veil,
With enough light that can guide to remain fair.
This journey is seldom without consequence,
As obstacles become present and abound.
So whether hurdled, avoided, or plowed through . . .
Overcoming them must be found.
While the question remains fundamental,
There are billions of answers to be observed.
With each one's unique testament,
Tracing a morality rarely hidden or reserved.
Ultimately, this inquiry is survived upon,
By those to judge while reflecting their own view.
Just as current events & history tend to remind us . . .
Not everything seen or heard is always true.