An effervescent evanescence
Our lives all bubbles rising
Effortlessly in an endless stream
Of time.
Gravity pulls and holds us
Yet still we rise,
A hint of the sublime
Within the mundanity of daily lives.
Over and over, in waking time
And, of course, in dreamtime
We break through, released
Only to be reborn within the stream.
Our lives each,
No matter how humble or exalted,
A mirror of the macrocosm
Within the microsphere.
As above, so below
Each in His divine image
And all of that,
And yet how easily we forget.
Our lives isolated, after all,
Within our bubbles. Yet over and over
In waking time, and, of course, in dreamtime
We break through, released.
Only to be reborn again
Within the stream.
What does that make us then
In all these bubbles?
An effervescent evanescence
Rising through
An endless dream
Of time.
(9/25/26)
The restraints of school can feel like jail,
there’s a mundanity to it.
I must plan my week’s every minute,
like God must have arranged atoms.
It’s the art of the small things,
where some minutes seem shorter than others
like atoms making different things
School is vibrant, intellectually stimulating
and stuffed, like a turkey, with a catalogue of
specific ideas that are new to me.
So I study them until, like an actor, I can recite them
as if on stage. But if a quiz is going to be ‘open notes,’
then it’s going to be an exacting b1tch .
And then there’s the waiting for outcomes (grades)
But I’m one of those girls
who sings shower songs
so bring it on.
.
.
A song for this:
Teddy Jam by guy
I thought I am right
to get angry with a fright
with anyone as a right I have the plight
I despised when I thought
They are also justified
When they shower their unjustified
anger on me.
My ego should be pleased
So, I wish others to be teased
So comes trouble in thousands
So, asks the me my sense, "Why this nonsense?"
I think myself of my triviality
As I am in my mundanity.
"Anger is temporary madness."
Said a wise man in his full sense.
Forgotten the other sense.
As some one must have on him an anchor.
Anger gives you a feeling of great monger.
(Only while getting angry)
To be angry? Or not to be?
Tells me my fellow inside
"Get angry, but first with your inside.
Then with the right person, at right time, for right cause.
Not on wrong person at his wrong time
Because fine anger brings finer results."
Oh! My strange inside pet fellow
Choose! When should you be angry?
A fusion of fuscia
An explosion of love
A full bloom of petals
White wings of a dove
The peal of the bells to ring out the day
Of loves new awakening in this sacred way
The steady mundanity of life
The balancing act of respect
Takes its toll on the husband and wife
More than they would expect
The years become chores
The petals doth wilt
The separation of spores
Of the dreams they once built
The ending begins
Signifying the doom
The petals of pain
Slip from the bloom
The peal of the bells to ring out the day
Of the death of the bloom; wilted away
I love you, for it makes me eternal,
I love you, for I like to dance with the symphony of your presence,
I love you, for it makes me disremember the mundanity,
I love you, for the love I bear is selfish,
I love you, for I don't have anyone else....
Simmer the sunshine,
Cause it hurts my eye,
So does the mundanity,
Holding on - gripping it,
As to waist does a belt.
Free to roam the streets,
Dark and lively,
Rain smothering the pain,
Dogs bark-an omen,
Living for the night,
Rather filled with laughs,
Mugs of beer getting me.
Soon have to catch a train,
And return to the mundanity,
Hoping I’ll live for the night, again!
We are finite beings in an infinite space;
We are thrown in at the start,
Pushed into the unknowable depth
Of the darkest waters, without warning.
Sometimes we take pause,
Allow ourselves to admire
The things created for us,
Things we created for ourselves.
The ineffable beauty of the cosmos
Can be found in the melody
Of your favourite song
Swirling on repeat through your mind.
It can be found in the laughter of friends
Bound by the trauma of ageing together,
Getting older and cackling
In the face of the inevitable.
Sometimes it is shared in a gaze
Between lovers, when pupils, thoughts
And lips collide in mutual admiration
Of each other’s spiritual and corporeal form.
Other times we mark it in ceremonies;
Graduating with that desired 2:1
And £60,00 in governmental debt,
The world more open than ever before,
Or the ritual of shrouding in black,
Sending those we love
In Charon’s graceful embrace as dust,
Back to where we came from.
We clock in to our allocated slot,
Repeat tasks of beautiful mundanity,
Surround ourselves with little treasures,
And at the end of it all, clock out,
To be set free amongst the stars.
Another day marches through September
With its ordinaries, its appointments, its glitches --
Hopefully, it will pass as most uneventful,
Not seared in our brain by some tragedy
I’ll settle for a flaccid day of mundanity,
A “live and let live” cliché kind of every day
With a mere sprinkling of raw spontaneity
Slipping into a quiet evening of tranquility.
Written September 12, 2022
[any rhymes are purely
coincidental]
palanquin bearers
punkhawallahs ~ gong farmers
facebook proof readers
By
David Kavanagh
Each seeming small challenge
we all face each & every day
occurs as a repeated test
to see if we can make work play
The slightest flicker of agitation
during day to day mundanity
signals ego borne stagnation
attachment disturbing serenity
It is only when we truly transcend
affinity to the subtlest ego urge
that we obviate need to reincarnate
divine entwined in a bliss surge
22-September-2020
The invisible flicker
of flame in the wicker
though there is no cause
for the pulse to pause
is cognised in aloneness
whilst in silence & stillness
We do not wish to hide
yet cannot confide
as the happening too subtle
translation impossible
shift being inner
outer mundanity dimmer
16-September-2020
Universally yours she never bequeaths an empty womb
because she is space, containing the sparkle of all eternity
She is a matchstick sulphuric light that never extinguishes
but churns into the deep without dupe, full of blue
cherry bomb thoughts arrive at the base of my skull to rev
the fantasy of a magical combustion made by great intent
She's a star shine chit made for wishing, only jarred
by the purple hues of my dreams, she's quite a sight
universally ours she caresses our eyes with an explosion
of atoms and molecules alike. An element of chemistry
she's a wash bath of cool, like the sighs of an evening high
planetary surprises await while we barely open the gate
so transfixed are we by mundanity that we never deem
the mystery of her capacious heart. Only God is privy to
her masterpiece from on high. She is not a sophomore
but rather an antiquity that fascinates me to no end .
Feb. 20 2019
Some people are convinced that they possess
Accomplishment within a certain art,
Yet sound, impartial judgement would conclude
That they have little talent to impart.
In contrast there are those with aptitude
Who never share the gifts which could inspire,
Reluctant to expend their time and skills
In quickening a kindred spirit’s fire.
Each person is endowed with unique gifts
To be applied, not to be hid from sight
Nor quenched by the mundanity of life
But rather to encourage and delight.
No gift should lie unsealed upon life’s shelf
True talent must be nurtured and unfurled
Enhancing lives which then reciprocate;
Creating an enlightened, vibrant world.
25/09/18
'Parable of the talents contest' : Sponsored by: Holly Hippocampus
PARABLE OF THE TALENTS N/A gifts Anthony Biaanco 7/18/2020
Flying
After the long slow drive
on the wet runway,
we glided into the air
where fields of cotton
enclosed the movement
of the large plane.
We bumped onto white
downy cushions,
floating beyond mundanity,
with the trembling clouds
beneath us and the noisy
engine forming a foam bath,
as we flew across Europe.
Our holiday began
on fragile ground,
anticipating freshness,
away from the tyranny
of the familiar where
most of our time is spent.
With Love Comes Change
Ingrained within humanity
Lies blatant, crass profanity.
A product of mundanity;
(That's smoldering volcanity,
With all of its inanity),
Is lacking in urbanity
And borders on insanity!
What seems a mere formality,
Could lessen such brutality,
(Or hinder some fatality);
By changing ones mentality
Towards a new morality:
Of love inclined reality.
1.26.2017©deborah burch
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