Awareness self-aware,
with ego relinquished,
enters the vibrant void,
humming with aliveness,
where no objects exist.
Awareness self-aware,
becomes the all that is,
in staid motionlessness,
epitomising thus,
perfect brilliant stillness.
Awareness self-aware,
hums with potent power,
in space and time dissolved
aliveness, that renews
itself within itself.
Awareness self-aware,
resplendent in its light,
is as it is complete,
in singularity;
of which we may not speak.
Immortalized in acrylic before you evaporated
as quickly as the paint dried in the autumn sunset,
you stuck yourself in a frame in my mind’s museum.
Rendered motionless by the inherent
motionlessness
of color on canvas,
your feet propped precariously on
our velvet footstool, you toss glances
from your painted eyes, like roses
from our balcony.
You occupy the headspace above
the headboard, the frame’s edge almost skimming
the ceiling, the hem of your evening gown just missing
the floor.
In this endless expanse of time,
stretching out like a cornfield after a harvest,
I must wait for the autumn sunset.
I sit on my canvas, drying like a corn husk
left in the heat, the water of my life vanishing
into the motionless silence.
Once the sun goes down for the evening
The trees limbs are dripping with sadness.
Then she sighs silently, "I am flourishing."
The dress she is donning is sky blue.
The dress flows deftly same as a hummingbird.
Retaining the floors motionlessness glue.
Virtual realm dulled by the seducers hand.
My draining bleakness swallowed me.
Almost perfectly and invisibly crippled.
I was shrouded in a dreamy burst of calmness.
I also hope to find the love she once had.
She sleeps on a soft purplish mattress.
Another of her caresses sent an electric pulse.
My back was overly halcyon with her spa.
I was enjoying her voice on her soul chords.
First Place Contest Winner
Written: May 23, 2021
All Yours (Jun 3) Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Brian Strand
At breakneck speeds
Escaping ourselves
In distress
Avoiding voids
Breaking silences
Fearing motionlessness
Afraid to be alone
With our feelings
With what’s inside
Deep within
Afraid it might engulf us
Implode on us
Realizing we’ve lived a lie
Afraid to face the unknown
To fall into that abyss
As ominous as
The fear of finding
A tinsel of Godliness
AP: 1st place 2022
Submitted on April 25, 2018 for contest END APRIL STANDARD sponsored by BRIAN STRAND - RANKED 1ST
I am wrapped in the pleasure of motionlessness
Here in my deep slumber
I will rest my soul
And yet they will say
That I was not
Or will not say
That I was
Or was not
Or perhaps not
They
With BAs and MAs
Will take these words away
This is the Author’s curse
They will say
I was spoken
I was slave
To grammar and verse
They will write
As I have written
About my nothingness
My motionlessness
The extent of my existence
My stolen words
Xeroxed in every thought
Through plagiarised verse
They will say
I have written nothing
I have authored nothing
I have been authored
By those who file
These words in single file
Of severed selves
Into the alphabetised order
Of library shelves
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