Long Mystical Poems
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I spent my entire day shopping for priceless rubies,
Rubies are unquestionably fiery, rubies are outright enchanting!
For my daughter’s approaching wedding, I scoured countless stores,
She must look gorgeous and absolutely stunning!
I travelled faraway to exotic India and hounded the exuberant jewellers,
My daughter must wear phenomenal rubies red,
On her sumptuous wedding day, I must make sure,
She looks resplendent, dazzling, and the loveliest!
I was frantically desperate to find the mystical gem,
Rubies are jaw-dropping, rubies are deliriously rare,
It was utterly understandable that I had to spend a wild fortune,
Finding the alluring jewel right for my beloved daughter!
Mythical rubies embody everlasting love and fervent passion,
Endless energy and infinite power rubies symbolize,
My daughter is protected from all adversaries and negative entities,
And mercifully blessed with a zest for life.
From a chirpy, bubbly, lass to a blushing, breathtaking bride,
Life's fascinating, intriguing journey has begun,
An enigmatic ruby from her doting mother, a priceless gift,
With all the celestial blessings showered!
A Brian Strand Rhymed Poetry Contest
Poem 1:
Chad was deep in the forest when he began to notice the grass
Moving curiously as if it was alive
Maybe it was
His five-year-old mind thought back to fairy tales.
He used to believe in the Brothers Grimm, forty years ago.
When had he lost that side?
His imagination smiled as he studied this forest.
There was something mystical about it.
Sparkling shimmering verdant leaves.
Red, pink, and tan mushrooms.
He imagined them as houses.
This would be the perfect place to retrieve his whimsical side.
He sat for a bit, before he noticed the felled log.
He wondered what it would be like to sit on that?
His five-year-old side giggled, urging him on.
Poem 2:
Faerie Fey Village was having a rousing great time.
They were unifying the troops, celebrating with rhyme.
Everyone was playing games or dancing and no one was blue.
Spiked orange juice was flowing through the magical forest too.
There were all kinds of critters and creatures, getting on great.
The brownies and elves of course are always a couple of days late.
The mice and the bunnies were dancing hard with the frogs.
A fantastic time on the underside of the enormous fallen oak logs.
Shh! A mole or vole whispered. I hear one of those tall giants, I think.
The wasps and the hornets stopped buzzing around the roses so pink.
Baby bunnies began to scramble, and the grandpa elf yelled to hide.
So we all transmogrified into moss, ivy and mushrooms on this eastern side.
I felt the giant’s breath as he looked around Fey Village that Day.
I did not dare make a sound, for I had heard giants have a mean way.
They wreck your homes, and tear the wings off your butterflies too.
I was so relieved when he left, this man with eyes of sky blue.
Religion is just a fragile shield,
That man raises before the overwhelming encounter with God,
A refuge built from holy prayers and ancestral fears.
I feel each wall of faith as an ancient fabric,
Dotted with stars that tell their secret stories,
A fan of intertwined hopes and dreams,
Under the infinite sky of the soul, I navigate among desires and fear.
In the flow of consciousness, my thoughts merge with eternity,
Where time becomes a river flowing through the infinity of my being,
And in each ripple of sacred water, I feel the divine presence,
A light hidden in the shadows of my trembling faith.
Religion, a gate between limited man and divine boundlessness,
Is the closed curtain that hides the cosmic spectacle,
A bridge of sacred words and mystical rituals
That links the earth to the infinite sky of knowledge.
I think of the overwhelming encounter with God,
That moment when all the fallen masks reveal a total presence,
A truth brighter than the sun, that burns,
But religion is the umbrella under which I hide from this fire.
In the shadows of the temple, I hear the noise of the divine step,
Each echo a reminder of my ephemeral becoming,
And I wonder if the words murmured in prayer
Are just an imperfect shield against the enormity of the Absolute.
On the altar of my heart, candles of faith and doubt burn,
A living flame flickering between desire and fear,
And I wonder if religion is just a construction of the soul,
A sanctuary where we hide from the reality of supreme mysteries.
In the flow of consciousness, I lose and find myself,
Navigating on rivers of light and night,
Each wave a metaphor for the human struggle to understand,
Each reflection an echo of the unfathomable encounter.
Religion, with its symbols and rhythms,
Is the haven where I try to reconstruct the divine picture,
A puzzle of light and shadows from which is born
A sacred portrait of man and his God.
And thus, in the flow of my endless thoughts,
In the silent cathedral of the night,
I wonder if we will ever truly embrace the infinite,
Or if we will continue to cling to this fragile shield of religion,
A treasure trove of endless hopes and fears,
A dance of spirits seeking
Through the eternal labyrinth of consciousness,
The overwhelming encounter with God.
Come Walk With Me
Come, walk through the beautiful forest with me—
Through nature’s own mystical, magical world
Where life dwells unhindered and gracefully free,
Where secrets of self can be slowly unfurled.
Through nature's own mystical, magical world
Enraptured by musical sounds of the wild,
Where secrets of self can be slowly unfurled,
Made open and free as an innocent child.
Enraptured by musical sounds of the wild,
Our worldly, dark troubles will soon disappear—
Made open and free as an innocent child—
Releasing our minds from unconscious deep fear.
Our worldly dark troubles will soon disappear
And peace will then flourish as never before,
Releasing our minds from unconscious deep fear,
Abandoned with nature, now what could be more?
And peace will then flourish as never before,
For children of nature, we happen to be,
Abandoned with nature, now what could be more?
Absorbing the wisdom of earth's honesty.
For children of nature, we happen to be
Where life dwells unhindered and gracefully free,
Absorbing the wisdom of earth's honesty—
Come, walk through the beautiful forest with me.
Sandra M. Haight
~3rd Place~
Premiere Contest: A Place Called Beautiful
Sponsor: Janice Thompson
Judged: 06/18/2016
~9th Place~
Premiere Contest: Contest No. 255
Sponsor: Brian Strand
Judged: 12/31/2016
In the twilight of a violet sunset, when my soul dons veils of melancholy,
I sit alone, surrounded by phantasms and unspoken words, whispering ancient incantations,
My verses, silk threads woven from starry tears and lunar sighs,
Rise towards the celestial vault, carrying the secrets of my troubled heart.
Poetry is my hidden kingdom, a crystal citadel buried in the mist of the mind,
Where no one can enter, where each syllable is a drop from the elixir of immortality,
Each metaphor, a rare flower grown from the fertile soil of divine experiences,
And the rest of the world is but a faded shadow, lost in the maelstrom of eternity.
Who dares to step into my garden of verses, to profane my altar of creation?
Who can understand the cosmic storm in a poet's soul, the infinite ocean of emotions?
Let me sing my pain and ecstasy to the rhythm of my bleeding heart,
For poetry is my sacred temple, and you, mere mortals, have no place in the sanctuary of words.
In the deep night of creation, when the moon weeps silver on astral parchments,
I transform into an alchemist of the divine verb, melting reality into mystical verses,
Creating new universes from the ashes of memories and the dust of shattered dreams,
And you, who do not perceive the magic of this sacred ritual, can depart to profane realms.
Each poem is a piece of my celestial essence, a prayer whispered in primordial darkness,
An invocation addressed to the forgotten gods of inspiration and eternal beauty,
I care not for your petty criticism, for your ephemeral misunderstanding,
For I exist through poetry, and you are but passing shadows on the cave wall.
So leave me alone with my verses, with my demons and seraphim,
With metaphors dancing in my mind like blue flames from another dimension,
Poetry is my intimate ritual, the cosmic blood flowing through the veins of my personal universe,
And you, who do not feel the divine vibration of words, can lose yourselves in the void of oblivion.
A Mystic’s Verse
Before I even ask?
So then does he know I
Lie in my prayers awaiting his brushing touch
Along my face? Awaiting
His untangling of the rose ribbons
So caught around and binding my soul?
Oh, to again feel my being as he made me!
Now I raise a blistered voice, “Stay! Oh, stay!”
That these close moments may not pass
And our prayer together not end
With my tears still flowing
Into the great silence...
Still...my tears...upon the notice of God
As I lay in my bed ...
There is pain in the stemming of my soul
Until an invisible fusion of solace warms.
Again the fingertips of love linger on my cheek
So
I may know a settling off to sleep,
After my receipt of the secret volumes
Of a mystical event,
Of consoling, assuring grace
...Indeed, he knows.
I love it, I hate it. It scares me, it thrills me.
It is magical, mystical, ethereal, and yet….
There is a part of it that is so beyond my grasp
I try to grab onto its robes and it races off without me.
A coven of interesting people, who seem to be in the know.
I am in the not know, but the want-to-know.
I watch with a morbid fascination as scary things happen.
I want to be part of it, I want to be included, I want to be like them.
But do I have it in me? I walk right up to the edge and try to face a demon.
She studies my eyes and laughs, knowing I am not there yet.
But I really want to be….
As We Look Toward The Sky
Zillions of specs in our vast universe, and
You, our amazing Earth, are among them!
Xanadu! For sure, we're blessed! We are here
With mysteries, deep and unknown in this
Vastness of cosmos that spreads endlessly,
Under which we exist, thrive and progress.
Thank God for our Earth, planets and stars!
Sometimes, impossible to understand—
Relating to puzzles of life, space and time—
Questions and answers, to why we are here
Pertaining to the relevance of all that's out there.
Of course when we think about the beyond,
Now, as creatures of Earth, we do wonder if
Millions of light years away are there those
Likely to gaze at their own skies; do they have
Knowledge of earthlings—we live and are here?
Justly, they have their own suns and moons—
It's not too farfetched a fact to surmise.
How and when will wanted answers explain
Great questions about our mystical space?
Forever and always is our deep wish to know.
Entwined with this endless, vast cosmic space, we
Dream of solving the mysteries that are
Called to our minds as we look toward the sky—
Bejeweled with magnificent shining stars—
And fathom the meaning of our Universe.
Sandra M. Haight
~6th Place~
Contest: First Ever ZYX Contest
Sponsor: John Lawless
Judged: 10/14/2015
In the absence of complication,
trials and tribulations become distant memories.
So many wonderful moments.
Distorted in the exact right ways.
Becoming more cherished at each thought.
In the absence of truth,
stress and disappointment enter your dendrite field.
So let’s not have that.
Instead, let us rejoice and cherish
Each moment for it is ours
and ours alone.
Above sapphire skies delight sanguine eyes -
inspiring forthcoming musings of the mind.
So much optimism!
So much hope!
Wide swaths of faith!
Whether you are religious or not,
Spirituality is alive and well in your heart.
Your mind recognizes this at a mystical level.
Above this earthly plane, angelic hosts
lift us onto their laps during sleep times,
nurturing us softly so we can hear our unique voices.
Ah, sweet sleep.
Nurturing us gently.
Thank you ever so much!
Written 11-21-2019
Sponsor: Silent One
Contest: Complete The Poem, in the Absence of Complication
Do you summon new or old
secret places?
Sanctuaries of Hidden Sacred Spaces?
Transforming and restructuring unseen realities, and visions of old or new faces?
To even build bridges to cross contradictions of ego, self and even trauma?
To walk away from low places: linked to old cities like Sodom and Gomorrah?
Using a diverse mixture of letters as a supernatural or mystical quality?
To create and help override everyday experiences of regression or depression?
Using wisdom, spiritual insight, and intuition?
If so, this occult spell is for just you, to help you win.
"Quasi ventus surgas et vincas omnia peccato coniuncta." (L)
(May you rise like the wind and conquer all things linked to sin)
(C)
Copyright John Duffy
Occult:
A term that was originally used in Latin to designate the hidden or unseen properties of things and that, since the 16th century, has also been used to characterise religious traditions that include belief in unseen forces or that otherwise behave in a secretive or mysterious manner.
Sodom and
Gomorrah, in this case, reflects any situations linked to corruption and sin.
Image shared under fair usage policy.