Long Third eye Poems
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VIDEO DESCRIPTION
The ballad of a French artist who longs to paint the indescribable—the beautiful delicate, elusive hues of his sightless Lover’s eyes as he endeavours to describe them to her. Haunted by her eyes in the many hues of nature, he’s exasperated that his every brush stroke defies all his attempts to capture their essence. Can he ever capture the beauty of her eyes on his canvas?
How does one describe, to a sightless Lover the beautiful colour of her eyes shifting hues and paint them. It makes me realise how fortunate we sighted people are to be able to see. Though, perhaps the sightless have developed that 'Third Eye'.
The video is great to watch on your home screen also with full sound effects if you get the chance on YouTube . Thank you for your visit.
The Colour That Defies - La couleur de tes yeux.
LYRICS
I see beyond green treetops
an emerald that makes me sigh
I see beyond the cotton clouds
a cobalt that sends me high
I see beyond a storm-lit wave
a mercury gleam drift by
I see beyond the blackened dusk
an onyx peint dans le ciel
painted in the sky
But I see beyond and never find
the colour that defies
The only one I cannot paint
The one that makes me cry
I see beyond and never find
la couleur de tes yeux
the colour of your eyes
I see beyond the autumn leaves
a burnished gold I can't deny
I see beyond the twilight mist
a violet, soft yet spry
I see beyond and never find
la couleur de tes yeux
the color of your eyes
I try to shape it, trace its light
mix the shades, but they're not right
mon amour, couleur perdue
no pigments hold, what I pursue
I see beyond your sightless eyes
no hue no brush can justify
the only one I cannot name
the one that makes me cry
I see beyond and never find
la couleur de tes yeux
The colour of your eyes
“We look at spirit not at form
Our touch is gentle, kind and warm
We but reflect God’s love and light
‘Tis the path to which we conform” ~ Unseeking Seeker
I read the violet sparks
of untouchable lightning,
allowing the butterfly breeze
to wrap me in wet bliss,
tracing the afterglow
of compassionate consciousness,
where kindness has no motive,
where empathy holds the quill
to narrate and nurture
nature with nameless frequency,
like a tercet without a title ~
a sunset without an end,
woven with wild petals of wisdom,
for what is love without light,
what is wisdom without composure,
what is humanity without
healing hymns of the soul?
In silence, I feel your pulse,
the palpitation of profound passion,
the vibration of untamable truth,
and I remain ~ immersed in awe,
adrift in the amplitude
of absolute awareness,
of what breathes between
rising fire and water,
like an estuary that escapes
the evilness of angst
by holding the ripples of rivers
and streaming sapphires
of salt-kissed serenity…
But must I name the throb
that aches with the weight of peace?
There is no form, no label,
no letter, no ink,
no colour, no cadence
to spell what spills
from the spirit of starlight ~
when love resides on the chalice
of the third eye,
intuitively engrossed
in the essence of clarity,
unclothing the chakras
to reveal the pining purity
of faith beyond form,
as the Almighty synchronizes
the inner motif of mindfulness,
merging the mystery
of surrendered sacredness,
where ego has no home,
and manipulative monsoons
cannot erase the awakened
flame of blazing dawn…
O beloved soul searcher
seeking timeless tranquility
in sunflower stillness,
listen to the unspoken ~
you and I, we know
the scented skin
of roses and revelation,
the kingdom of unseen reality,
guarded with illuminated epiphanies,
and in muteness we muse,
transforming to an ethereal realm
where heaven is closer
than the air that touches
the holy shivers of electric scriptures,
written from the lotus aura
of an ageless utopia ~
forgive my need
for cosmic confinement,
‘Tis the path to which we conform...
Still me like a snow globe oh soul even if I'm not there yet
peek inside me as if I were glass, human yes though part net
I am aware
of my stare
and I am conscious of my emotions, they are quick like a jet
Alette and noble cross legged with a third eye open, I am
just learning how to let go and let God take over I'm a Ram
holding my breath
I exhale like Seth
its all about self worth in this fulcrum, I believe that I can
Guide me through this journey that I may understand and see
the deviant ways I go, the straight arrows I shoot, yes its all me
in this sponsored life
I often meet rife
but when I am still as a snow globe,... I can breathe and be free.
Feb 25, 2022
Sponsor Unseeking Seeker
Contest Name Consciousness Fulcrum
Freaking me out
One day as I looked in the mirror
I saw that a third eye had appeared
In the middle of my face.
It was red, it was huge.
I was horrified by its proportions.
How could a 59-year-old still have zits upon their face?
I felt like a cyclops
A monster
It certainly did not make me feel pretty
A humbling thing, perhaps?
I did not feel so proud as to deserve it.
How do I walk around with this on my face?
Perhaps the Covid-mask that I was forced to wear would cover it up?
It did not.
There it was for all to see.
As I left the comfort and solitude of my bathroom,
I had to face my husband and my 4-year-old grandson.
Oliver was not known for his empathy.
He spoke his truth and spoke it well!
He took one look at my face,
As he scrunched up his sweet little face
A look of horror came over him
“Gramma, can you cover that up, its freaking me out?!”
We all burst out into a fit of laughter.
I went into the bathroom and grabbed a band-aid,
Laughing until it hurt,
I realized that day that children just speak the truth!
He said exactly what any adult was thinking.
We can’t let these little things wreck our day,
Just cover it up and move on!
Grace Daub January 11, 2022
Written for "Funny Memories Contest" sponsored by -Natasha L Scragg
amethyst, amber, agate, aquamarine
barite, bauxite, beryl, soon seen
carnelian, chryophrase, cool citrine
diamond, dolomite, delivered by Dean
Emerald, epidite, elusive by far
Flourite flowing next to Feldspar,
Gemstone hit parade, setting the bar
Hematite holds us hostage, said Mar.
Isis calcite showing up imperial jade,
Jasper enters the fray with his own maid.
Karats counted in diamonds, making the grade.
Lapis Lazuli opening your third-eye, a spiritual aid
Moonstone and malachite dancing in tune
Niccolite, and nambulite against the moon
Opal and obsidian making fun of a rune
Pearl, pyrite, periodot doing a swoon.
Quartz comes up rosy, all pretty and pink.
Ruby and Rhodonite sitting on the brink.
Sapphire, serpentine, sodalite sharing a drink.
Topaz, tigers eye, turquoise skating in the rink.
Attention now goes to uvite and unakite,
making friends with vivionite an valencianite
Don’t speak to wulfenite cautions wavelite.
‘xtra dazzling, ‘xtra special gemstones delight
Yeoperite says come meet yowah nut
Zeba jasper and zircon run right into the hut
These are not all the gemstones, but they are a few.
I would like to see a bit of each of them, now wouldn’t you?
Eye
Pupil
Triplets
Third eye plus two
Colorful orbs sans monotony
I am in awe of I and you.
I, poised to see new day
I see here and there as social butterfly, but
I grace good space you'll embrace
I being free spirited, who's fully in charge?
I see your tears
I see your smiles
I see your shining bright sides.
I, humble servant as needed
I may seem sneaky as a pussy cat
I steal your heart.
I with imperfections
I have lied, begged, and cheat
I share everything as treat.
Recall...
I switch views
I never look to sin against your skin
I was born forgiving.
If you and I were on a deserted Island
You would see soul of mine eyes, and
I would see much of you as part of me
Agree?
*
The guitarist
As I wallow In songs
Of freedom
I feel the power of love
From the soul with
Words of peace keep
Running down
my third eye
to my long
Fingers
As I write with a blue pen
The poems of nature
That come from a new birth
The guitarist
The sound from the strings
The sound so tender
Like a morning songs
From the birds
The sound of the
Guitar man do always melt
Depression from my soul
Play me the tone
With the strings
And let me dance like
The trees of life
The guitarist
I love the guitar
I love a guitarist
I love the strings
I love the melody
From a good guitarist
In places I hear tones
From deferent guitarist's
I love the deferent melody
From places I go
The guitarist
I meet one homeless
Guitarist by the side
Of the street as usual
Where people just pass
Him by as nothing
But when ever I saw him
He always have a good
Melody but he is homeless
Yet was a guitarist
The guitarist
He plays sounds that attracts
People to stop and pay attention
As they drop coins on his
Plate
This man touches my soul
With his melody
His appearance looks dirty
But the melody from his
Guitar sounds so beautiful
Yet he was homeless
But he is a great guitarist
The guitarist
The value of a man
Is not judge by his
Appearance or status
At a moment of time
Just like
The guitarist
Insight
I have once again recited my poem of spasms and, in front of the dark bud of my pineal gland, my flower awakens at times with soft pauses over the refuge of my secret. Now I live in my dream and I know that we are already the lullaby of an eternal sun. Those roads, without the escape path to divine consciousness, were and are the crunching wound of these hemispheres, where the third eye dissolves the crucial and dense matter of a foliage that covers the already thick depths of things. Now my room sustains the light of midnight, the chalky vision that ignites the celestial breath at the birth of new stars. My soul is stepped upon in all the shapes of darkness, and there I wait for you. This is my first song in the crown of life and you dance in my thoughts. I do not see you, because the drop has merged into the ocean. An internal lighthouse that now descends like the first leaves spiraling at the end of summer; they fall upon the green grass and go singing to the autumn that silently approaches. We were fragments of the Absolute amidst the sidereal fire, dark silences of heights pointing toward the union of the earth and the heavens. Bodies that harbored the geometry of manna, sacred essence, pure consciousness joined to a tail of extremity and movements; the divine spark that the exterior carved into the rock.
Roxane Aristy
Fragmentos
Shining in the distance was a pinata shaped like round bubble
A skinny limber boy yelled to his friend, “I will hit it on the double!”
The friend was watching star lizard twist on mountain with his curly tail.
Chuck, a skunk fox hybrid brought in bits and tatters of the morning mail.
Larry, an unassuming chipmunk tossed around his ruffled lace umbrella.
Dorothy, the girl in the slip dress told Larry he was an interesting fella.
Chickadee was fearful of the palm with the leather chaps and third eye.
Woe is me said the oak tree, I agree. I might even have to cry.
Cartoon petroglyphs rounded out the twerking tree tribe nicely.
Artist capturing everything complained, “does it have to be precisely?”
A turquoise lady bug who was butting in rolled her eyes and said.
You might leave out the chickadeel he is so still, I think he’s dead.
As Bindu and third eye entwine,
we feel pristine presence align
with the pulse of the universe,
renouncing cravings that confine.
Dancing without need to rehearse,
vibrant heart composes a verse,
recognising life is but play,
accepted for better or worse.
Be this as it may, we yet sway,
having not made love our mainstay
and so betwixt glimmers of light,
silence becomes our chosen way.
Third eye grants sight and Bindu, bliss,
bestowed by Divine Mother’s kiss,
whence feeble form becomes aflame
and we see we are all of this.
With God connect as soul’s sole aim,
there remain no demons to tame
and suffused by magnetic heat,
emptiness is our claim to fame.
As polarities meet and greet,
throb of bliss makes heart feel upbeat
and as we slowly vaporise,
wayward ego concedes defeat.
Embracing each breath in surprise,
we do not weigh, measure or size,
soul choosing instead, to be led
by God’s magnetism to new highs.