Long Numinous Poems
Long Numinous Poems. Below are the most popular long Numinous by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Numinous poems by poem length and keyword.
—On the Sight That Waited for You—
Did I love then? My sight had learn’d to lie,
and clothed each apparition in borrowed light;
I kiss’d the dawn and watch’d the western sky,
and deem’d the numinous in mortal sight.
I call’d the rain’s pale argent fall divine,
made vanishing a sacrament of flame;
and made each fugitive splendour a shrine,
and gave the passing world an endless name.
Till thou didst enter—and the very air
seem’d suddenly vacat’d of what it feign’d;
the rain still silver’d every waiting stair,
yet through each interstice the dark remain’d.
I kiss’d thy hand—and all my heavens knew
their light had only been rehearsing you.
Proust searched his brain for memories that
made the man, could finally understand
that this changed him just by looking;
so he called himself a sentimental realist!
many a prisoner, in walls cast of shadows,
have escaped their fate etched in stone
and bars at Guantanamo, where they
remade themselves in the language of pain -
the poetry of misery or bliss to relive a life
that past has missed, to rekindle themselves
in the alembic of desire, their inner fire
because of the lie of memory; I am frisson!
oh, yearning moment, oh, swelling into dreams
come of these needful things, where open
skies and open roads and open fields
are little sparks in open places closed inside of me.
when this lightning sings my body moves
with the ghostly touch of numinous grass
and forgotten fragile flowers, the distant buzz of bee
and echoing twitter of birds sound again inside of me.
inside of memory is me, thereto is the lie
where holes are filled by imagination, a story I call
myself where fiction and reality are hopelessly
intertwined, undermining who I thought was me and too, mine.
this albatross of original stimulus, this
verisimilitude of the incongruous, mutable
impressions which fleeting fly dead-away
fall into the deep error of my earnest loom; memory!
the act of remembering changes me, so a fool I have
become, locked in shadows, staring dumb, I shun this outer lock, sing my songs as they
come from now on, making me in my own image
unbecoming,
unfettered,
unfinished,
undone ...
‘Great Wonder to watch Winter's shiny show of snowy charm strictly speaking , a splendid
splendour,
Since born, staying only in summer zone,
no idea of natural beauty in snow.
So far tasted only ice cream cone.
About snow fantasy how could I know?
Debut of snow flakes in chilled attitude :
on my first meet with serene snow scenario
in a tourist spot on high altitude.
Me slandering up, clouds floating below.
Hanged icicle stalactites with pointed tips
from roof of our hotel ! A great wonder
We two to enjoy honeymoon trip !
Snowy charm whelmed me ! Sheen splendid splendour !
Shiny snow elating whiteness over slant path-
Skating on silvery slippery snow downhill
Fun in throwing snowball and jogging in mirth
We ventured sliding on sledge on amorous thrill.
I can reminisce fantastic snow fantasy :
Metaphoric mirage drifting on dazzling ice !
Enchantment of glossy massy snow turned classy.!
Danced delight : Divine numinous noble nice.
The numinous process of parthenogenesis
Occurs when part of a plant
Falls to the ground
And without a sound begins sprouting
Another plant, completely and distinctly anew.
Or is it really
The extension of life of the mother plant
Whose earthly days are numbered
In terms of photosynthesis,
Cells, stems and leaves?
Parthenogenesis means life
Should never need to grieve.
It’s a never ending story of garden glory
To those fortunate few
Plants and other creatures renewed
By unseen forces that emanate and bathe them in the beauty of
Living-dying eternal bliss.
Perhaps we humans could learn a little
Something from the vegetable patch in that
We’re all links of the eon’s long chain
That keeps on keeping on
Regardless of places, dates, fortunes or fame.
I don’t know much about anything at all
But I do know parthenogenesis
Is another interesting twist in God’s great game.
An occasional chance encounter
With a stranger on the street
Can change life like a tidal wave
And lift us off our feet.
The mystery of wakefulness
Like the dance of rolling dice,
Is filled with rhythm, love and hate
Virtue, darkness, light.
Bending ‘round from sky to ground,
Heaven, hell and in between;
An occasional chance encounter
Can turn a whore into a queen.
Who may have been lost in paradise,
Trampled, beaten, bruised;
The **** you spit on yesterday
Might well have been just you.
Or the skid-row drunk whose soul has sunk
So low you can’t relate,
To the pain he knows each time it snows
And the cold winds won’t abate.
Unless, until somebody fills
His heart with dreams again;
An occasional chance encounter
Might mean the world to him.
A word or two of hopefulness,
From nightmares all day long;
A helping hand, one measured stand
Turns sorrow into song.
And now and then when nothing’s wrong
And everything feels fine;
No dark cloud storms or feeling worn
Cast clouds upon the mind.
When all feels well and quite routine
And there’s nothing much to say,
An occasional chance encounter
Can change us all in many ways.
A look in the eye and words that fly
Out of one’s tongue and mouth;
Before we know it love starts to show it
And the heart starts heading down south.
Running away like a child at play
As if never before set free;
Wild in the wind as one begins
To open up eyes and see.
That blindness isn’t limited
To those that have no sight
But affects us all the weak and small
Every day and every night.
As now and then like a Zephyr wind
A stranger comes a’ calling;
Before we know we’re all a glow
In love and freely falling.
Like a coin toss out of nowhere,
Probabilities, unimaginable;
An occasional chance encounter
May render life numinous, unfathomable.
Trust me when I tell you that
There are riches deep inside;
Every soul that ever lived,
Struggled, loved and died.
As it is written in the book of life
And inscribed inside our heads;
An occasional chance encounter
Can find beauty in the beast within
And love where hatred led.
The Stream-Winners
Many a moon, ascending-avatars spent
Eons in caves, on shadows intent,
Struggling to crawl from the shimmering-flow,
Behind the reflections where sentiments grow.
This was the goal—the long, lonely climb—
To slip from the tether of space and of time.
They called them the Stream-Winners, grasped in the sight
That the numinous-moving-us is a trick of the light.
But the means of escaping the torrent’s embrace
Was as illusive as stillness in a galloping race;
Stepping twice in the same stream? A traveler’s lie.
So they sat staring-forever, with a parched, hollow eye,
Until wonder turned-Awe, and the glitter returned,
As they saw in the beauty what the soul had once burned.
For the Stream, it returns! In a spiral, a dance—
Eternal-Recurrence—no victim of chance.
You step in the same stream twice, and then more,
While the water-longs-fierce for your feet on its floor.
It craves you, it seeks you, each time it rolls by,
In infinite waves, beneath a vast, violet sky.
It speeds up to feel you—deep-inside the bone—
Until every Déjà-vu makes itself known.
Flowing inside-out, till your eyes open wide,
Caught in the rush of the free-streaming tide.
An organic-embrace, a shimmering-shove,
This free-flowing, visceral, streaming-Love.
And there, in the vortex where the currents all chase,
We find our own footing...
Taking one step in Grace.
Lumina’s Light
Light had faded in reflection from start to finish bitter battered final end
Bright mirror’s prisms a blinding darkened prison in her luscious name
Long lost love conceived in lust and lustre looming large from liquored loins
Undone contaminated utterly unscripted used usurped unleashed by man in
Manic malice corrupted massacred monstrously moving through murky mud
Innocent inconceivably conscripted to illness indecision incisive icicles imbibed
No nascent numinous naivety just noxious narrative concealed in naked novelty
Arrived at audacious ardour converted authenticity anticipated from her axes
Life had burnt Lumina’s candle at both ends from start to finish in a never ending
Loop towards atrocity and back from awful angst to loops and loops of loneliness
Long last she searched her name for lighter meaning for Life Ubunthu Magnitude
Illustrious Namely Absolution and shone in radiant light of who she truly was
26th July 2017
("Incantations", 2014, original pen and ink and acrylic)
The Way Light Changes
There are times when the very fabric of reality
changes; alters, loosens and expands,
and for that matter times when it tightens and constricts.
The former leads to bliss and joy, confidence and clarity,
the latter to claustrophobic anxiety.
The expansion though is worth focusing on
as the ties that bind relax
triggered by something as simple as a look or smile,
a dose of some powerful entheogen,
nature’s beauty or unexpected wonder,
a series of musical notes unlocking the forgotten,
the ethereal vibe of a New Age bookstore
full of synchronistic possibility,
a museum holding the secrets of the world
and creative output of humanity,
the sacred space of church and temple, archaic ruin
old growth forest, open desert, mountain top
centered on a solitary cushion….
Everywhere we turn
we meet the opportunity to confront
the numinous
in both the obvious and sublime.
Everywhere we go
there is a window and door
that hinges both ways.
Even when life becomes familiar, stable and secure
there is always a moment waiting
to catch the eye, engage the heart, open the mind
and bring us to a different light.
(11/10/23)
halting-stars we are, aching
for the vastness of space,
that lonely-only place
where heat-beats swell
on the edge of night -
here we are sun~bending
toward a red-ochre sky,
a gnarled branch,
and bony-finger reach
for a cloudy-whirl,
white on blue,
all the while curling-roots 'round
stones of earth,
star-imbued mud
for sipping nameless
elements of course -
we lurch in wind, whimper for the climb,
make leaf-song,
slow-swelling from Sun
drenched dirt,
the blood of longing serpents-up,
from deeper whirl'ds-turn'd
where harder-roots have
sunk
into the electron-cloud where numinous-valences are allowed,
which are inspired to arise,
such that lead becomes gold
glowing as a singular-sight,
vortex'd through Quantum tunnels
that make your body bright -
just another rapturous transmutation
of matter into light
metamorphosis
-you see roots of light, filaments:
it's a miracle speeding ponderously, splendorously
where a congregation of stars transfigure into a winged-galaxy
and spiral-Angels glitter in your eyes --
dancing between every wondrous thing
in time and space matters,
orbiting infinitely in
where every round thing begins --
first-light at the edge of the fatal-skin you're in
rises in longing swells, the measure of your heart;
a nebulae of mystery, the numinous light of peregrinated stories --
from stars we come to stars we shall return,
this ancient ache of longing urging us to burn,
to shine on 'n on from inside out,
where illumination is a fire without any doubt
I'm not worried, now, she is beautiful
no need to hurry, now, she never dies
in infinite nights, she is carried far and away ...