Long Upsurge Poems
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The whole world I can measure in this cornfield.
Why would I need
to go to Indiana or Pennsylvania
or Katmandu?
Ohio is right here, and the rattling gold of the corn is here.
Yes Indiana has its rustic temples also ~
as does Kentucky and Idaho,
all over the world the sky is wide open
and the green and yellow corn is swaying,
but why travel
when this amber upsurge is before us?
Here I can feel the hidden ramparts
of a mighty cathedral of music
here under my feet,
the songs are rough and ready,
but they are as good as any prayer.
Over there a stand of trees
where the green frocks
of summer shadow-dance.
Each stalk of corn climbs to its highest
and my spirit climbs with them,
rocking on that sea of wind-waving luster.
The mud and dirt here is as good as any,
they are just as holy as elsewhere
as are all the grubbing creatures in and upon it.
This field is a sure-enough atlas
it reaches surpassingly deep and high,
the roofs of heavens are below us
the roots of time delve and sprout here
the sky descends to breathe within each breast.
This is the land beyond the great river,
that river brings the world here,
the sun nests here, and the stars appear
reflected in our up-turned eyes.
We listen to the tilling breeze
mapping the whole of creation
in just this well formed,
well farmed forty acres
above and below
but also in Michigan and elsewhere.
There I stood, quietly and still, with a frozen stare through my patio door. The awesome portrait of life, so dominating most of the year, has lost its
lure.This time, it’s not the forest that I behold, but it’s the sleeping trees that I see. All agree that much of life’s greenery has changed, rearranged, and
suffered pain.
In my backyard, there stands a fence laced and hidden in a fading sea of green. Gone is the luster of summer and the colors of fall, but the season is subtle and serene. Refusing to go unnoticed is a plant clustered with tiny blossoms of purple flowers. Bright and beaming yellow blossoms, undefeated and undisturbed, adorn a bush. The bush, filled with life on this January morn, blends cheerfully with nature’s orchestra.
The weather is gloomy and overcast, but no one bothered to tell my lovely backyard friends. A tree, showing no resemblance to its surroundings, is bare, stripped, and naked. She pleads for nothing and does not appear to be wounded, sick, or diseased.
The once green foliage of summer that turned brown last fall is now gone. Its umbrella of shade baring leaves is now a haven of rest for the birds. Come Spring, life will upsurge, and green leaves of shade will emerge.
But for now, the winter winds must blow and shake off all the leaves, and winter rains must fall while the full ensemble of life awaits the new season.
01302011; PostPS01162018, Contest, Mid Jan Premiere, Brian Strand
A tender smile, a fleeting glance,
Eyes that meet to touch the soul,
A beating heart, a breathless breath,
A deepened sense of something whole.
(A tender smile, a fleeting glance),
A need to please and give of self,
(Missed beats of hearts and minds in trance)
To share all things of mind and heart.
(One feels a sense of something whole),
With openness and sweet surrender
(Rest warm and soothing in the soul)…
And of the whole become a part.
(Outshining aura’s brilliant glow),
A touch of closeness and of warmth,
(Upsurge of passions soon bestow)
The radiance of inner glow.
(Strong flowing currents charged with fire)
Bathe in light of endless aura,
(Now fanned and fed by love’s desire)…
A current charged with endless flow.
(Emboldened hearts combine to share)
To feel another's joy and pain,
(Surrender fears…lay each soul bare)
Two beating hearts, as one, to care.
(Soon bond as one, their love declared)…
And of the thoughts that words can't speak,
Two open souls, in silence, share.
To speak of love through word and song
Is at its best, mere child’s play,
In contrast to the silent prose
That heart and soul, through love, convey.
© Sandra M. Haight 2015
All Rights Reserved
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~8th Place~
Contest: Intermingle
Sponsor: Craig Cornish
Judged: 04/16/2015
Poems used:
#1 Poem, Posted: 12/01/2014 -- What Is Love
#2 Poem, Posted: 10/05/2014 -- Amorousness (in parenthesis and italics)
--------------------------------------------------------------
.
Heat conjured the atmosphere, conception began
Upsurge in pressures stirs water, birthing Nature’s Giants
Roaring sound with mixed helicopter-lion, ranting on the ocean
Ready to visit nearby lands, better prepare, don’t run!
Immersion is so strong, horrifying wind at 120 to 200 mphour
Can’t be controlled, God keep us safe if we stick to prayers
Apart not of our life, visitors of our nation several times a year
Nearest to coastal areas are more on danger and at risk.
Embrace reality, brace their atrocity but trust our Father Almighty
Safety is also yours on evacuation, don’t postpone my Dearie!
Sept.12, 2017 6.03am
Third Place
Contest: Hurricanes
Judged:9/12/2017
Sponsor: Poet Julie Rodeheaver
Unmet expectations strike hard,
hurting where they languish long.
Unkept promises are blows earned,
hitting where they find no resistance.
Unkind words are slashes harsh,
ripping through the calm conscience.
The dormant volcano within the soul
then gets the upsurge of melted psychic mantle
in the crust of brittle tolerance,
that collapses in the caldera cradling the vent,
reaching the magma chamber in the core.
The soul erupts the lava in the wild,
burns the gentle patience as it flows.
Uncontrolled, it blazes the heart,
undowsed, it singes the sane senses.
The smoke billows up thick and intense,
clouds the deranged essence.
Words rise like Sphinx from the toxic ashes,
perish the patient face of mental restraint.
The flame surges in the stream of neurons,
no longer the carrier of conformist signals.
From the volcanic inferno of the soul
the erupted fiery lava called anger flows
in the torrents of blistering words,
scalding whatever comes in the way,
blazing a furrow for the reticent life.
EYE DISCONNECT
i’ve always been drawn
to eyes — a smorgasbord of colors
but that’s not what i see
i drift beyond what most can tap into
the shroud of evidence
the red rivers
a canal lock
bulging, ready to burst
the big bang
the upsurge of rage
shocking severance
the world in ethereal mist
the feel of goosebumps —
a spirit throws a sodden blanket,
arctic cold around shoulders
shuddering teeth like ice picks
wincing of pinched nerve ending
but she’s like a statue of Mother Teresa
They whisper...whissss…
“She’s so calm.”
“So strong.”
“A saint in her circumstance.”
But the Spirit tells me, “See… Feel...her.”
Through her eyelids, I wander, not for myself
but for the gift of God,
I touch her arm, I ask
with godly inflection
“How are you?”
and her heart stirs…
...the high and low pressure mixes
...quite like a cold engine whirring to start
elephantine tears, wrinkled and gray,
splatter...her trunk collapses
and God collects the sudden stream into a cloud
for no bottle can hold this torrent of weeping
others walk away, afraid, embarrassed, imposters
a dove turns into pure comfort
a solid hand of flesh
a form strong enough to hold her up
she rests in the Spirit of the love of God
i see a smorgasbord of colors
she smiles
12/28/2018
Soul’s innate creative urge,
causes in heart, an upsurge,
creating in space, a rhythm,
throbbing in mind-body prism.
Entwined with the universe,
our mind then conjures a verse,
which ego claims as its own,
although seeds are by soul sown.
Attuned to love’s vibration,
unique is each creation,
penning patterns on paper,
the way we like to caper.
The music’s not our handwork,
so we best wipe off our smirk,
but nevertheless since we’re here,
we let the fragrance draw near.
Just like petals in full bloom,
soul’s vibrance too likes to zoom,
which works for poets like us,
joyous aboard God’s bliss bus.
Spring brings an end to outdoor diversion,
Though some don’t mind its seasonal distress,
It could be an annoying occasion,
When the body is overlaid with stress.
There is an upsurge in the earth’s waters,
They overflow and pay guests to the land,
It’s saddled with tempestuous matters,
Like a fellow standing on sinking sand.
It is a happy and glee time for ants,
The uninvited guests throng our gardens,
They are not a huge concern for peasants,
Flooded and battered farms deeply saddens.
Spring resuscitates my aversion ply,
Sometimes it’s hard to push through and comply.
February 22, 2023.
Spring Is Not All Poetry Contest,
Michelle Faulkner.
All thought egoic, manifest by desire
Beginning with an identity urge
To expand, identity thus conspires
Spiralling in grooves, of narrow thought surge
Feeling separate from source, we diverge
Hypnotic illusions, attention mires
The clear light of truth, then begins to blur
All thought egoic, manifest by desire
Blissful consciousness, was our state prior
Before our deluded ego upsurge
Spark becoming flame, now raging fire
Beginning with an identity urge
Ego thought fed, it begins to infer
Floundering about, reflections admires
Silencing resonance, own thought prefers
To expand, identity thus conspires
Thinking a gift divine, we did acquire
Boon then bane; ego delusion a scourge
Bewildering illusions, thus does sire
Spiralling in grooves, of narrow thought surge
Liberation at hand, when we do merge
Choosing resonation with hearts love choir
Our childlike presence then does re-emerge
Save the love vibration, nothing inspires
All thought egoic
14-January-2021
We feel the surge of magnetism divine
filling our emptiness, as we align
with the love pulsation, choosing to merge
as bliss currents benign, gently so purge
core of our consciousness as God assigns
Shifting from I-me-mine to Thee-Thou-Thine
self existent love, for love alone pines
paving way for the divine bliss upsurge
we feel the surge
As detached presence, self to love consigns
voice of the conscience becomes our guideline
in-form nodes, to the pulse divine converge
within Gods light we completely submerge
melding at last within His sublime shrine
we feel the surge
19-March-2021