every blade of grass has a memory
each yellow dandelion has her own song to sing
I marvel at the miracle of the red clover with her circular leaves
purposeful ant marches past my musings, giving me a withering look
Gate or Gates 7-1-25 Based on Rodin’s Gates of Hell. It struck me that Rodin’s gates are closed which made me think of a pastor who said he would want to set up a mission at the gates of hell, that maybe, there might be one last chance of forgiveness. Agree or disagree, theologically correct or not, this poem is just my musings based on this perception by Rodin – the acceptance or rejection of grace - forgiveness.
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Gates of Hell
Mercy stands outside
The GHOSTLY gates of hell
Spreading amazing wings
Benevolence
In GOSSAMER compassion
GRIEF-STRICKEN
At the sight of unquenchable fires
For souls born from the pure fire of love
GROANING with tender clemency
Offering the finality of forgiveness,
Amnesty born from an empty GRAVE
In a garden,
An empty cross on a bloodstained hill,
Armors built in plates of arrogance
Scream,
Dissolve,
In the acid of this reality
Grace, never GODFORSAKEN,
Offers a chalice of ruth
For the ruthless,
A breath of pardon
At the execution of a soul –
Pilgrim thinker
Sits outside the gates of hell –
Building a mission on closed gates.
Teasing eyes that I can never get out
In my reveries, they haunt forever
Voluminous euphoric feelings sprout
And engross my musings without sever
Spend time gazing at the infinite highs
Your enthralling phiz pervades the blue screen
Decipher the transmitted from your eyes
Profound silence beat the heartstrings umpteen
Enchanting voice resonates in my heart
Droops me into a hallucination
Wish to soar leaving the whole realm apart
Quiet moments with exhilaration
Take the stand of Lord Byron to admire
You, as it's the lone thing that I aspire
when another day begins
with cold, grey, overcast skies
foreboding shivers the mind...
uncertainty looms
clouds may mirror my musings
but, nevertheless, I scan
the sky searching for golden
streaks and blue demesnes
My musings launched into the stratosphere
Marching to Mars’ trending atmosphere
It's 2025
At midnight it’ll arrive
I’ll be taking time out in the new year
Miscellaneous, multifarious
These were my musings, mixed and various
Poems that were happy, poems so sad,
Left me heartbroken or cheerily glad.
Poems about people and nature and such
Sometimes I wonder if it’s all been too much
Questions arise as I struggle to find
The perfect balance of poetic kind
Are the lines a bit short? or are they too long?
Is the meaning too deep? or simply a song?
Is it telling the truth, or telling a lie?
Or wild imagination out on the fly?
Rubbish or nonsense, it’s all much the same
I won’t even try to give it a name
Once I would write, I would write every day
Then something happened, and it all went away
And try as I might, it is hard to regain
To coax fine words from an unwilling brain
Other poets I read, whose wise poems shine.
What on God’s good green earth happened to mine?
It’s been a long time, some ten years or more.
Perhaps a bit less, I’m not keeping score
But I’ll keep on trying in this the new year.
And hope that my muse will seek me out here
So this is my goal. I would like you to know.
Is it attainable? I surely hope so.
I was born a poet not manufactured.
It started with a heart feeling fractured.
Childhood trauma led to built up suppression,
but the soul yearned for creative expression.
For years my poems hid in secret memoirs,
but a battle with cancer left behind deep scars.
Tongue remained silent, but my muse began to pour,
through reflection and introspective candour.
Some use words as weapons to cause sorrow,
but I write to leave a legacy for tomorrow.
I have no desire for applause nor for fame,
so I express my musings using a pen name.
Each verse is written through metaphorical blood,
in hope one day my life will be understood.
There's a hole in the fabric of my universe
Sometimes I slip inside and zip it up
Time loses meaning here
no future, no past
The present in this space is only an imaginary playground between the two
Life isn't linear
Moments of laughter, moments of pain float around me in their bubbles
Feelings are relics stacked on shelves where I can seperate them from myself
I have thoughts about the dust but this is my space, and my collection
Away from the world and its deadlines
Alone with my musings
And you
Always you
What am I looking for, what am I hiding
reunited with my past self, can't help but repent;
did I lose myself or am I still finding,
hoping for my tomorrow just to escape my present.
Masked my troubles with so-called escapisms
denied the truth that was embedded deep within;
thoroughly washed away all my musings,
mastered the art of self-loathin'
Pushed and pulled with a force to reckon
emptied myself into the realms of darkness;
weighed my expectations as a means of life lesson,
heard the pounding of my heart, too scared to witness.
Everything indeed changes, as someone truly said change is the only 'constant'
can I change myself that is the big question, can I truly face myself?
the voices inside keep screaming to join the fragments,
who will tell them that I am not broken but shelved.
I don't need soldering, I need to embrace
my flaws, my mistakes, my regrets, my wants;
The only way to spiral out is to retrace,
to acknowledge the unknown, to evade the haunts.
Some of my poems are truly inane.
Screeching, preaching, a run away train..
Impulsive poetry is to blame.
It's just my style. I'll sign my name.
It's never racist.
It doesn't seek to defame and
none of my musings would ever proclaim,
to "make America great again".
Poetry soup is a haven, a safe space.
It's certainly not a Presidential race..
If America wants a President with a.d.d.
and lots of extra energy.
Put my name on your ballot,
as I'll come with poetry..
I’m staring at my notebook;
The page is lined but blank.
I’m like the driver with no map
Or gas within the tank.
I’ve got the engine started
But I have no place to go,
So I’m sitting here in neutral
With my spirits sinking low.
It doesn’t happen often
That my mind will not engage,
Yet my musings somehow managed
To get words upon the page.
It’s almost time for typing,
For what finally seems clear
Is that sometimes simply idling
Is enough to get in gear.
it’s just another day
yet the air scents different today.
am not hurt
yet i feel my moist eye lashes.
is it your absence?
or the truth i know?
the truth that things are falling apart
the truth that you can’t understand me
the truth that there is no me without thee
but...
i know you feel it,
you feel the soft grime on the path of enamour
the path that i’d paved for us to walk together.
even this day the cupids whisper in my ear
the melodious sound of your beating heart.
how do I tell you my musings
for the fear of separation hovers over me.
this epoch of time, unmoving
i keep quiet and move along with you,
silently.
-gurumali
A longing look back at dusty thoughts
colors my musings of childhood days.
I miss my Mom's hugs, cross-country trips,
and phantasmagorical picnics.
My imagination starts to stir;
conjuring up past visions of fun.
And I wish that I could go hog-wild;
or switch curiosity back on.
Thinking about family outings
instantly summons up happy thoughts.
My mind oft lovingly looking back;
at a past without guilt or worry.
Occasionally; I wish I could
go back to what I had long ago.
For a pang of nostalgia calls forth
an amalgamation of lost joys.
Smooth sweet delicious memories
Awaken the beautiful mysteries of my mind,
And trapses through my musings
Without even a notion of bitter taste.
Sing with me the most succulent songs
That linger with absolute tones
Of magnificence and splendor
Just as the rise of my hastening heartbeat
Continues along the current of my veins,
And my satiated body tingles
While the most agreeable tastes delight,
And the awe of its mere existence
Enriches like the savory first bite
Surrounding itself with unnecessary resilience
Without the populace quiet awareness.
Yes love is like chocolate the people exclaim
As out of various hues of brown erupt
Just enough light to capture what was hidden
Beneath the richness of sugary beauty
Where solids mollify and are eagerly swallowed
Delivering deep affection for all that is.
Jubilation of my triumph, comfort soothing sorrow,
Aspirations of my passions, today and tomorrow,
Reveling reveries-elysian that love brought to fore;
You are the gift I adore, smiling through my yore,
As tenor of forever-love reverberates in your sphere
When extolling you, dear, heartbeats-ardent cheer.
My dear, when I am with you, how fervid souls coo,
Lauding promise of love, mirthful impulses renew,
For you are my musings, my esoteric zealous dream,
My sensuous sassy dawn, hosting romantic theme,
Unfolding treasured albums endearing vibes reveal,
My precious gem of life, sparkling amorous appeal.
Rhythms of my heart, how within your heart attune,
While rejoicing gift of love endearing spirits croon
Vowing pledges eternal, reaffirming bonds anew,
Conferring in lyrics of love, streaming just for you,
For you are my melody, strumming love’s encore~
My verse and sweet chorus: I love you ever more.
April 9, 2023
Placed 10th: I Only Live To Love You Poetry Contest
Sponsor: JCB Brul
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