ARTICULATED LONGINGS
beautiful
notions
of
virtues
provoke
to
reactivate
&renew
creative
microcosmic
virtuosity
in
blossoming
emblems
of
connecting
analogies
my precise compass points to innermost heart
a microcosmic myrtle of macrocosm art
I journey inward this core, where lies my
Tree of Life ____
tasting amber resonance of Self’s sap
it cradles spirit, now a blissed viburnum
spaceless space kisses,
olive is ocarina enchanting,
enthralling, embracing
earth and heaven ~ discerning,
lemon heathered ____a garden
Core imbues form with ineffable frequencies
elusive is a holly terminal
spirit discerns tree’s essence,
agape agapanthus caped appears
belled garden knows
own’s every oak throb
benevolent bonafide biome,
pulsing life force
animating Being’s fluids
in pond stillness
translucent lotus opens
sublime perfumed
destination to heart core costs zilch
no other station can compare !
Children of the macrocosmic implosion
grow the seeds of bioluminescent oxytocin
Symbiotic by design, the prana and the potion
That dihydrogen monoxide flow of all word spoken
Existential kintsugi thaws out every heart frozen
and gilds the cracks in every single circle unbroken
Those chosen?
Those awoken here to serve in devotion
with the motion of the ocean
Salt of Earth for the wounds that will open
We, the tides that choose to rise
Open eyes and light the skies
We, the lanterns on the darkest paths
Compasses that guide
So we stay loyal to the mission
Seek absolution of division
Bring the North, the South, the East, the West
a centralized vision
A whole revision, it's vital
A microcosmic revival
Let the ripples make the waves that lift us
out of survival
DIY EMF from inside you
Evergreen that exhales to ignite you
Eat the fruits of the Spirit that light you
and watch the Universe grow to provide you
Mountains, so stoic
Standing so tall and so grand,
Etched upon the world's memory
As the sole witnesses to the beautiful ballet
Danced by Time
Mountains, so bold
Yet bidding me to move them
To be where I want them to be;
Standing on a timeline
Whose flow accords to the harmony
Of my innocence
Each attempt, though,
Brings me back to the same square
Thereby reminding me
That I am naught but a tiny particle
Faced with their might
For,
Clocks run clockwise
Clocks cannot dance backwards
Clocks control our lifespans, our memories
And even the hurt that we have watered
So well in our secret gardens
That these have bloomed into exquisiteness
Mountains then, shall still be standing after
My presence shall morph into fumes
Mountains shall write of the new ballet shows
That they shall witness
Keeping silent and stoic
As if,
The world's drama is macrocosmic
Even if we all live it at a microcosmic level!
Such is life in all the universe,
nebulas are born, others just explode.
In our microcosmic world.
we fight our wars for pecuniary greed,
for love and passion and sadistic fun.
The tide comes in and then it ebbs,
cycle follows cycle until the end.
Yet we are after all too young to give up
or too old to battle on,
which is why we sometimes weep,
but other times we sing
our song of true love.
There is a part of me, an obscure mossy part
that is an underlay, a lichen-like carpeting
of scud and muddy surf that some might call earth.
Within that membranous sub-coat
neither devils nor angles live, yet there are creatures
they merge and mingle swapping their miniscule bodies
with each other just to scurry hither and thither
as different aspects of a microcosmic,
yet ever growing awareness.
I think sweet St Francis would have seen through me;
I believe he would have blessed my animalistic sub-existence
while teaching each germy, parasitical, symbiotic
cellular organism of mine how to knit together
the image of God in this filmy mire.
nice caring chatty people sitting
next to bitter grumpy miserable folk
just another day at the
hospital’s emergency lobby
the microcosmic reflection
of life in general
AP: Honorable Mention 2021
There is a part of me,
an obscure mossy part
that is an underlay,
a lichen-like carpeting
of scud and muddy surf
that some might call soul.
Within that membranous sub-coat
neither devils nor angles live
yet there are creatures
and they merge and mingle
swapping their miniscule bodies
with each other
just to scurry hither and thither
as different aspects
of a microcosmic awareness.
I think sweet St Francis would have
seen through me.
I believe he would have blessed
my animalistic sub-existence
while teaching each germy,
parasitical, symbiotic
cellular organism of mine
how to knit together
the shape of God
in this filmy mire,
this gathering swarm
of innate holiness.
Dive right in, come one and all, into the mini-me of a microcosmic mall,
Protons and electrons in a balanced brawl, with neutrons standing tall…
Quarks and leptons hide within, dancing with the atom upon their spin,
All this within my sudorific skin, shaking hands with my cosmic kin…
Amidst the infinite multiverse, we are fragile fractals in quantum reverse,
Through mini black holes we disperse, as particles of light, we immerse…
The very small can be very big, as you’ll find out in a dimensional dig,
Infinitesimal of a tiny twig, all atoms roaming in their galactic gig…
A minuscule minut micro mass, all exist within a gigantic goliath gas,
Observing with the looking eye-glass as the universe in me comes to pass.
July.10.2019
The Miniverse Poetry
Sponsored by: Nina Parmenter
N/A...Forgot to enter (duh!)
Incongruous realities of microcosmic minds
Torturous awakenings in lives raging reminds
Dormant and deceived are rapid eyes moving
Absorbent are neurons firing fluidly brewing
June.25.2019
Arbitrium Divisa 2
Sponsored by: Gregory R Barden
...excerpt from “Dreamers of Dreams”
Aug.28.2018
Not for any contest
Can also be read backward
Placed 3'rd...Thank You
And we measure the action of the animal by various sticks..
And trees change over time, growing tall exerting their force in a time all it's own
Branches snap and fall and become sagging, soggy moist fodder for microcosmic universes,
and the maple burns itself away
Come to their demise decompose and become the forest floor debris
Now which magnificent 'birds of prey' soar over and swoop down into,
to clutch their prey
Wings thrumming like a heart beat 'lub-dub' as their talons send the tree debris flying
stirring motes of dust that scintillate in random sunbeams that illuminate grey shafts of sunlight in bar-codes across the forest...
Dry silence is broken by the sound of a soul when it's over stricken with awe
And in the wilderness, beast tear apart their prey leaving only bits of evidence of their existence
And time means nothing to to this terrestrial drama.
The Great Beauty
by Odin Roark
How short lived
This laughter made for releasing
Buried in the tragedian
Locked in the universal clown costume
We
You and me
We might watch Fellini’s balloons part
But the message of La Dolce Vita
Has faded into paparazzi history
Or perhaps
Never was
But
Taking up the Master’s baton
Paolo Sorrentino runs like a gazelle
His Great Beauty
Revisiting the question
A man lent to us
Provides a moment
Where one’s man for the ages
For our lifetime
A sufferer for both woman and man
Torn between the paternal instinct
And imagined freedom…
Becomes alone
Yet all-embracing
Such a price
We might say
Italy’s microcosmic decline
Man’s countenance on trial
His worth awaiting
A Christie's auction
Everything with its levy
Yet
What price the good life?
The good life seldom realized?
The kind lived
Then rebuked in
The Great Beauty?
Oh to seek
The unanswerable
Not the self-cocooning
Of “I know”
And the peace of inner-nothingness
Sublime’s secret
Like Sorrentino’s protagonist
We all live in bubbles
The question is about choice
Your bubble
Or
Mine?
for J.C. Alldridge
Full pummelling fisticuffs
Stitch over stitch
In and out
Imperceptibly kaleidoscopic
Swirling from ear to ear
Sporadic
Thrumming mystical notes
Notes of whisper
Whisper in the ear
Now a bothered swish of clawing
Cleaving slipping fingers
Immalleable rolling universal ball
Microcosmic needle into
Macrocosmic wool all
Silently thudding kneading pulling
Sealing a sin all opened unforgiven
Eternally whispering to a few
And never really heard
Pummelling sewing the invisible centre
Round and round the darkless sun
Only the end that began
Only a scratch and a bother
What bother to scratch
For scratching bothers
Bothers a scratch
Scratch and not to bother
Scratch Scratch Scratch
©: From: T. Wignesan - Paris, 1957 (from Tracks of a Tramp. Kuala Lumpur-Singapore: 1961; first pub. in "Forum Academicum", University of Heidelberg, 1957)
Enchanted in a field of
Petals blue, a figure stands
And stately stares so true.
Lushes greens and mauves
Surround this hue; they
Carry with them charms
That follow you. In your
Eyes reflects the golden
Sun; that nestles on
Mercuric waters run.
And miniscule the living
Things you be; microcosmic
Universal sea! Warmest rays
Of sunshine on your smile;
Do wake in him fond dreams
Of things worthwhile. Listen
To the distant shores alive;
For on its sands, are ruins
To contrive. The figure turns
And walks to be with you;
Stately stepping through
Your petals blue.
Because
the dumb-struck awe sings in the wires,
my hair
on end it stands,
of joy anticipated.
The honey click
and whirr of dynamos beneath the skin
that push
the blood set free
emancipated.
Because
of you I rage against the nightfall
pursue the
sometimes sore
evasive light.
In kindness,
gentle of your constitution,
with healing hands
bestowing love,
restore my sight.
Because
you speak the language of the idyll,
the words
to make my fragments
part and whole.
Doggedly
I stumble microcosmic
in emulation
of your
awesome soul.
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