Long Innately Poems
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Light Chasing Shadows
How pompous
These times of bait and catch
As famished minds fan their dwindling flame
Amidst urban collisions of spirit and heart
As witness the controlled starvation of energy's appetite
Leaving thinking landscapes raped and pillaged
To later be exhumed...
Yet
A child's imagination holds desperate its wonder
Sensing via eyes
Ears
Taste
Smell
And feel
Their innately wired candles
Desperately protecting the flames
While their obvious needs experience exploitation
The benefit of which
Stretches
Invades
Smothers
The very extension of their right
Their entitlement
And yes
Their genius
Without light there is no illumination
Still
With light
Shadows are cast
Imprinting what is
What might be
What a child dreams to be
Light will always chase shadows
But at some point
There should always be the overhead moment
When shadows cease to be
When what is
Just is
That moment of singular and infinite identity
What a price children pay for that opportunity
It's a New Year again,
Time to turn another
page -- though I am
far from new~
closer to Old Sage.
Time to forgive...and let
go... -- as seasons flow
the cold of January
will leave our North~
Southern breeze will again
melt the snow, thawing
Nature's frostier thermostat --
(a subtle lesson in
there for all of us) --
Myself, never much for skiing --
having taste closer in line with toasty-sand
and dazzling-shore
however, no need to further bore anyone with
my own preference -- mindful that we all have
personal deference -- but more than enough
in fond common not to foolishly feel need to share any
affections not deemed innately neutral, amiably acceptable when
cordially meeting and passing -
My this year's resolution:
To make a little less fecal
pollution
to love a little more
a welcome mat not far from
the bell camera at the front
door --
I won't be naively foolish -- but maybe
a bit less frightfully ghoulish...
The charcoal cloud miasmic,
melts in the ashen scorched sky,
summer drizzle descends
with the fascinating flotilla
that floats in the arid air.
The seeping spectrum
of the setting scarlet sun
sparkles on the slanting splash
of the rain drops,
soaking the singed malachite meadow,
exudes pervasive petrichor,
saturating the blazing ambiance.
From the moistened crack
of the desiccated soil
sprouts an olivine sapling
after waiting a long while,
spreads tender emerald leaves,
cradling a cute bud,
glistened by the touch
of the rhapsodic rain,
the pink petals unfurl,
draped with twilight tinge.
They dance in summer breeze
with the radiant rain drops,
turning into pearls,
reflecting the rainbow hues.
With the falling sultry dusk
the sprinkling sky sinks,
wavers with the cadence
of the serenading rain drops,
cascading with soft musical torrent
on the misty pane
of my dripping window.
The rain of nostalgic joy,
that beguiled the lost youth
returns innately inspired
to morph into meandering rows
in the ballet of dancing rills,
I feel roll with silent symphony
in the euphoric sanctum of my soul.
I hear my mesmerized heart
sing the rain song,
captivating for a while
the memory of the melodic youth,
that wanders in the rhythm of splatter
with the downpour of delight
beyond the arch of rainbow ecstasy
in the clement days
of raining in summer.
The flow of intrinsic instinct channelized
through the seamless emotive space,
between shining sensitivities of discernment,
drives the central cognitive impulses,
propels persistently the existential essence
across the verve-saturated emptiness,
surges with the waves of sensuous sequins
of enlivening ethereal attraction
through the vacuity of amorphous perception.
The eternal elements of time pulsates unsensed
in the ether of the inner secluded space,
defining a piece of infinity in continuum.
The fervent rhythm of enticement in harmony
with the covert cadence of blankness,
transitions explicitly into designed nothingness
from one invisible articulation to another,
modulated innately by the motivating stimulus
of the illumined stellar souls.
I watch you go quiet in mid-chatter.
You look up and inward,
your eyes deep-set and native,
I glimpse you,
not as that Irish girl brought up in the projects
but as an American legend, a promise
so very few have discovered or kept.
Only here does the land
grow mystics that can bake bread
and also hammer rivets.
The old wild ones who have learned to read,
taught by the earth and sky.
You belong to the outcast and tribe-less,
the indigenous who planted their own
deep seeds.
Those who innately knew
how to take a wild journey
barefoot or shod,
long before the conquistadores
drove their pigs before them
chopping up this continent
into cuts of meat for their God to eat.
A buzzard flaps slowly away,
suddenly you smile.
''I'll make dumplings tonight" you say,
"just like my Polish grandma used to make em."
We calmly carry on
walking into the blue distance,
Behind us,
Lewis and Clark struggle to keep up.
I stand before the ocean
a lone beacon
enduring the crash
of relentless waves
absorbing their hidden secrets
Weighted whispered woes
and carried calls for compassion
wear on fragile shoulders
gritting truth behind a smile
where withering resilience hides
Navigating the intentions
of those with insatiable thirst
narcissists crave to drain
the vulnerable empath
standing alone in constant company
Lightly treading depths
lost in a running river
I can walk away
but stay submerged
as boundaries dissolve
An empath has no option
dwelling in cores beneath spongy skin
innately woven in veins
flowing with the essence of others
outweighing mere empathy
Yet, beyond colliding tides
a distant, soothing glow
from a familiar lighthouse
emits an ease of missing peace
A suffering human
aches to be known
by those who know
Inside each of us there are shades of ChAoS…at the very least intermittent negativity
Hypocritical thinking defines so many people
As they bask in their appearance of virtue.
Let us listen to the preacher because only a few can see the utter dissimulation within.
It is a compelling story that society has written…
To distort and extort our souls…
Angst…
We are innately the same, we haven’t gone anywhere new…
We’re just looking at things from a new perspective… Can we do this together…
Remember…inside is chaos, negativity and angst but there is also…
This…
Did you know…
Fear is a state of mind…
Life can feel encapsulated… trapped with anger and misery
How do we battle the angst…
I don’t know…
But there is always…
This…
Let’s start…
We should not recognize a life has ended….
Only recognize a life has lived…
Celebrate…
It is our right
There is power in ritual
Ritual to grieve
Wicked atrocity or not
There is…
This…
This can be a magnificent day if you choose…
This minute shall not be wasted
Simple, it is a beautiful life we can live…
Simpler, when one thing ends… another begins…
Ultimate simplicity…
This is this…
Some folks remain skeptical that souls exist,
even though all religions
believe they do.
Over time, I've come to realize
that there's a spot in my heart of hearts
which God miraculously designed,
to accommodate a soul.
I can't explain it scientifically.
My mind and my heart don't always agree.
It took more than a leap of faith to convince me:
I needed to feel that I possessed a soul.
And despite my initial cynicism, I can't deny that I do.
The fact that I have a soul may not seem realistic or provable.
However, that doesn't make it any less possible!
I think of it like a shadow, invisible in the darkness of reality.
Nonetheless, it is there;
linking intangible hopes
to the realm of possible, and the fringes of probable.
I have accepted what I feel
to be innately true;
Human beings are born with a soul.
Intrinsic intuition tunneled through time,
drives incessant the central cognitive impulses,
surges with the sensuous waves
of enlivening enlightenment,
through the vacuity of amorphous perception.
The rhythm of time pulsates relentless
in the inner secluded space infinite,
the fervent frequency in harmony
with the intonation of the void,
the transition designed unequivocally
from one articulation to another,
modulated innately by the motivating stimulus
of the illumined soul.
Undiscerned life force abhors pervasive vacuum,
propels persistently the existential essence
through the sense-saturated emptiness
of enigmatic equanimity of abandonment
to the self-suffused sanctum of fulfilling bliss.
Twinkle in your eyes
By Michelle Morris
27/07/2020
There are twinkling stars in the sky,
They remind me of the mischief in your eyes;
The intelligence you innately show;
A strong character learning as you grow...
Because, like those stars you're far away,
May as well be galaxies for all the pain...
I remember our moments of fun and conversing;
Our adventures and our magical excursions...
And I hope that time has served you well,
And that the twinkle in your eyes is
Not dimmed at all...
Because you lost so much in our parting too;
You lost the twinkle that I saw in you...
© Michelle Morris, 2020