Long Reconciling Poems
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Gentle as the sunlight,
Reflecting hope over snow covered ground,
Softening the heart and soul…
With a soothing whisper,
The kiss of kindness, blissful – healing,
Wistful memories, silent dreams
All the blessings, the many things…
That make up a lifetime, timeless truths
Creative gestures, faith that moves…
Mountains and fluid motion
Water rushing past the beds of smooth
Stones, erasing the past with a heartfelt
Caress
Breathless prayers promising,
Echoing grace through the surface of a Spring
Arising in the emotional beauty, the lasting
Smiles of intimacy, shrugging off…
The last of the snow’s biting
Urging the wonders of glittering shimmers
Stirring up feelings of cold, dark December
With the songs of praise, the music
Wiping away the last of a nocturnal grip
Who feels like doubt pressing in…
Leaving only the feeling that stirs
Promises and pleas, petitions
For peace, praising – worship that flows
From a soul who knows – B L E S S I N G S
Warm as the morning, a dawn
Sighing – like the forgiving winds of Summer
Smiling on the shoulders, kissing away
The wild, willful waters of the rainy season
Flooding the spirit with reconciling feelings
Kindnesses, rich and vibrating…
Trembling like the silence
Who blends away the screams of doubt,
Welcoming the hues of happiness
In the sunlight, streaming –
Wiping out the clouds, the wistfulness
The melancholy and fear, tears – like dewy
Hopes caressing the flowers
Enchanting, fascinating… beguiling each
Moment with pearls of joy
Impulsive, stars shimmer and glisten,
Like the Autumn who dims the thoughts,
Aspires to create awe in the heart
Who sees its elegance, its gratitude and mercy…
Restoring the night’s burning
Flames of repentance, duty to the rumors of agile
Wispy light falling heavily from a moon, glowing
Silvery frost through the intense specter –
Liberty, a candor threading its way past the trees
Into the wonders of a forest…
A forest who believes, accepts the second chance
To bring serenity through the settling urge…
From rainfall undertones
To thankful treasures from the spice of November
Listen to the glowing hope – the faith
In Thanksgiving’s adoration … thanks to Him,
The One who gave us the miracles, the peace…
The G O D S E N D S
Belated condolences extolling fateful tragedy...
befalling beloved Khurana's
https://www.nbcphiladelphia.com/news/local/
Montgomery-County-Small-Plane-Crash-527480941.html
Published Aug 8, 2019 at 7:03 AM |
Updated at 1:14 AM EDT on Aug 9, 2019
The missus shrieked
with horror watching
and hearing in
disbelief and shock
catastrophe costing
three precious lives,
Macbook Pro laptop
wallpaper agonizing reminder
(though poem previously written
subsequently mailed to
immediate family relations),
I still feel numb
(albeit NOT comfortably)
reconciling inexplicable reality
with recollection to distill
their true value
when yours truly and kin
(sleeping spouse plus,
our two grown daughters)
lived on Greentree Lane
about three doors up
quite some years ago,
yet their untimely deaths
affect me weeks later
thus poetic memoriam
culled out and begged
express impossible mission
attempting to comprehend
profound loss community
of medical professionals
still must experience
stunned with grief
already latter half month
of August 2019 elapsed.
Though only casual acquaintance
husband/ wife doctors
Jasvir Khurana professor of pathology
and laboratory medicine
at Temple University
Lewis Katz School of Medicine
with a focus on bone pathology
and Divya Khurana (respectively)
a professor of pediatrics and neurology
at Drexel University
College of Medicine,
specializing in pediatrics,
sleep medicine and pediatric neurology
earned national recognition
as decades long leader in epilepsy
and mitochondrial disorder.
Nineteen year old daughter,
Kiran Khurana
youngest of two daughters
graduated Harriton High School
two thousand eighteen
in Bryn Mawr, Pennsylvania
sadly also perished
single-engine Beechcraft Bonanza
crashed behind homes
along Minnie Lane near
Morris Road in Upper Moreland.
Tangled in confusion, a nomadic disenchantment,
Comraderie, we thought it was, is apethic callous,
Yet still exists a languid hope for remants of a promise,
That one day amoretto though absturce and in concealment,
Will find itself exposed to the vainglory of revealment,
Then Philanderous fancy shall alter to enamor,
And our creases of affection will sonor into furrow,
Reconciling want to be's in sorrow of tomorrow,
But once the dream is dared upon will fancy turn to nightmare?
The vicious trend could end of wanting in our recollection,
If nostalgia felt for false could cause feigned memory to be?
What is and what shall never be.
She knows when the lights are turned off
there will be light somewhere else
Understanding of connections between life and death
The rains will come and the seeds will germinate
by the green youth trees
The attraction is there, but also the fear
her world is falling apart as a house of cards
through the soul's dark night
A transcendent and celestial experience
the arrival of the journey via divine powers
The frequency, sound and volume adjusted frequently
She testing the woven fibers with burning longing
against a background of nothing but bluish air
The soul longed for so much, a renewal
Listen to the sound of trickling streams
before they merge into the endless sea
A reconciling and humble journey has ended
04.03.2023
Sun :) - A-L Andresen :)
Copyright © All Rights Reserved
- ''J'' - Words - Poetry Contest -
Sponsored by: Constance La France
2nd place in the contest
No antihistamine can
unblock the lifetime
accumulation of stoppered emotional gunk
zapping, undermining, and polluting *****
mine early life in retrospective avast flunk
stripped mined wasteland qua sinkhole,
where eternal reverberations soundlessly plunk
inescapable deafening, and
blinding this targeted
"scapegoat" bullied by most every punk
wrathful verbal sucker punches,
whereby yours truly habitually shrunk
within himself, yet self actualization
predates how severe
introvertedness doth debunk
the penultimate prevalence that mean kids,
albeit cruel, fiendish, incriminating
ganged accomplices further sunk
this then boy careering
into an abysmal funk
crashing into bajillion pieces
with soundless silent thunk
pitching mental health
(actually entire self)
analogous to comatose
state losing a chunk
of vital growing up years,
when upon reluctant
commencement into early adulthood
debilitating chafing
against self destructive
(mailer daemon) nemesis did brood
apathetic degree of functionality crude
delivering punishing perception,
now this older dude
writhes with lament oft times exude
ding self hatred, especially during
critical years, I denied myself food
never reconciling how affliction
cost development good
and plenti stunted development,
when scythe ying grim reaper donning
trademark black hood
dee metaphorically pinned toothpick
lovely bag of bones fragile as breadstick
easily crushed by madding publick
crowdsource, that slip of a cowlick
my excruciating body electric
demolished with figurative flick
of wrist now shutters hermetic
vacuum sealed "prison" brick
an invincible fortified bailiwick
walled in invisible steely fortress
hardest and most resilient mucous thick
against any wrecking ball.
Donald and Ronald were identical twins. Growing up, they did
everything together. They were not only brothers; they were
best friends. It was almost like they were the same person
because they would say things simultaneously without looking
at each other. It was like they could read each other's minds;
it was creepy.One day everything changed on their 18 birthday.
They had an all-out-drag-out fight; everyone was shocked. No
one thought anything could come between them. They parted
ways on that day, Donald joined the Army, and Ronald joined
the Air Force. Until this day, no one really knows what the ar-
gument was about. Rumor said it was about a girl. They came
from a family that lives long. They both lived to be one hundred
and something years of age. They didn't speak to each other for
over eighty years.The twins left this world not reconciling.
Donald was my great, great uncle and I never really knew him;
I only knew of him. I felt like if I had gotten to know him I
would be betraying my granddad Ronald. In hindsight, I wish
I had betrayed him because life is too short. I wish grandad
and uncle Donald weren't so darn stubborn. Because grandad
missed his twin.
Alexis Y.
08/7/2021
Descendent of proto humans
dumbfounded, mystified, stupefied, et cetera
despite plethora of technological trappings,
whereby world wide web virtually linkedin
allowing, enabling, and providing
instantaneous electronic feedback,
I still experience dearth
of mental, psychological and social
meaningfulness amidst cerebral chaos
courtesy healthy mailer daemons
occupying sixty plus shades of gray matter
more valuable then any terrain
designated as Silicon Valley or Wall Street
constituting nexus of brain power,
where metaphysical thoughts proliferate
and ponder such basic thought
such as who art yours truly
what (I declare)
will constitute date with death
and where will corporeal flesh
and spirit separately journey?
Since time immemorial
millennium generations
happenstance bestowed *****sapiens
ability to become self aware
double edged figurative sword
allowing, enabling, providing...
forebears of yesteryear
to marvel at life, and
reckon with death,
which mixed blessing
wrestling with living and dying
also confronts man/womankind
during twenty first century
said inscrutable dilemma,
albeit reconciling mortality
linkedin with consciousness
heightened, tested, under_scored...
particularly at demise dearly departed
inadvertently affect
upon surviving family members
hijacking, offsetting, upending...
fracturing emotional composure
prompting immediate questions
regarding purposefulness living
nee, being born essentially to die
predestined to pass away
identical fate decreed upon
all animals and plants
bolstered by believing deity
foreordained every creature
past, present, and future,
yet most pronounceable afflicting
non denominational, non
religious, non sectarian
case in point Unitarian,
vis a vis visa versa secular humanists,
especially nonsensical poet wannabe
riddled with perplexity
about nature of being alive
wondering what explains
essence constituting individual fluke
finding meaning scuttling
across world wide web
hither and yon, to and fro
dumbfounded at futility
absolute zero adequate answers
(again, unless one subscribes
to codified doctrinal dogma
i.e. religion, faith, creed...)
I attest as garden variety primate
baffled, flummoxed, nonplussed...
A soft breeze whispered
as I stood near a spread
of fields
where my heartfelt story was told.
I recalled the beginning.
The middle was unfolding
and I didn’t know the end.
My assignment
of controlling traffic here
would last two weeks
yet a voice inside
said this was where
I was meant to be.
O, the sky was so blue.
A construction crew inched
along the highway to fill cracks.
My father always said
what was broken must be mended.
I was reconciling with my past,
my memories carried in a breeze.
It was the beginning of summer,
I recall,
ankle-high corn reaching for the sun.
It was a farmer’s labor
a farmer’s pride.
My life was unfolding
a sense of wonder
as cars followed the pilot vehicle
through open lands.
The clouds above passed
as galleons of ancient ships
the sky an ocean of dreams
and endless tomorrows.
Independent Thinking
_______________________
a jingle janglein my pocket one day i did hear
not much too do a thing with
left me in my ponder about this problem i did wonder
Upon my life i have thought
not much more than i could think
but reconciling life in my deepest thought
i could not find me
im not so old i know too much
and not so young i know not such
but im here right now and wonder upon life
and how or what feels right
influences come from so many ways
so many ways across my days
i followed rightly
i followed wrongly
but followed me so very rarely
Rarely have i have given champion to myself
so very rarely have i believed in me
but as this gentle breeze blows across my brow
do i now want to be
For all my errors i love them so
and todays the day i let them go
Let them build the man i see the man i crave to be
Me
My strength i pull from what has made me weak
and against those weakness i shall find my peak
No judge can be more cruel than i
and in my actions my life will thrieve
I am here because of me
and its me who i want to be
stronger in myself, stonger in my strength
i rebuild my essence
I am no longer frieghtened of me
and find pride in my strength
for its something ive always had
but left behind for something else
My days now help me grow, it lets me be
i can hear the music, that i have been deafened to
my reflection lets me see and determines i will be
so many small things now mean so much more
one day at a time i am now a believer in me
each moment i grab, grabs each moment i need
and i need like all people i need
and like all people i will be
my sleep is now content with each day i wake
and with each day i wake so too my love for me
i will be the best me for me
and with me, so shall the lives i touch be
nothing or no one can be me as much as i will be
i am now my own man
original and strong
my essence is free
Baloo Murri
Only during mercurial twilight can one discover,
From tasting the rich and varied fruits of life,
From recollective journaling, record and recover.
From the many battle scars implanted in strife.
Journaling grants a private, swirling pen profiling.
It vents spontaneous moments of mindfulness.
Journaling opens windows to nightmare reconciling.
It instinctively resets resilient laughing playfulness.
The soul is an inner flame of karmic consciousness.
It seeks its purpose in every new reincarnation.
It must assert itself in each timidity and forthrightness.
It changes form and color with every transformation.
The cumulative journal entries embody a repository.
They bind together survival, identity, and self-worth.
They answer buried questions and address latent stories.
They calm the anxious brood, affirming each rebirth.
A diary is a constant companion, a faithful friend.
A diary speaks in forgotten tongues, in any dialect.
This scroll, this twilight dossier speaks without end.
This log records each and every strength and defect.
Only during mercurial twilight can one discover,
From tasting the rich and varied fruits of life,
From recollective journaling, record and recover.
From the many battle scars implanted in strife.