The splendor of books enthralled me early in life,
being attracted by the weird animations imprinted in them.
The nascent imagination of the five-year old
morphed within me as an exploring book worm.
I grew up with other timely interests in the transit,
many passing passions came and went,
but looking for mystery the childhood book worm grew
as a constant companion creeping secretively in my head.
The lure of books attracted me to the bookshops
like an obsessed honey bee to the posy of flowers.
I enjoyed the flavor of the mystifying nectar,
concealed in the suspense scripted by Doyle or Christie.
In my journey through the corridors of unveiling mystery,
created by Sherlock Holmes or Hercule Poirot,
I took up their roles till I reached the precinct of the last pages
where the ace sleuths solved the enigmatic puzzles.
Although my old myopic eyes degenerated very much,
the strain over the years made the failing vision blurred,
the senile book worm still crawls to find the mystery clues,
letting me feel the power of fiction.
When the fire dies
do embers still burn
When the flower wilts
will the fragrance linger
When the game ends
do the players relive it
When food is tossed
will beggars eat it
A passerby, unknown -
She knocked on my door.
Where did she come from?
I sure didn't know.
Nor did she say
Or, if she would stay -
She didn't say either
Where she would go.
She left quite abruptly
Without a goodbye -
Yet, she looked so familiar
I couldn't tell why!
And I was left wondering -
Who could she be?
When I looked in the mirror
She stared back at me!
Was I then the passerby
Passing through life -
With my fair share of joys,
Sorrows, struggles and strife?
Where do we come from?
Where do we go?
We are just passersby -
We sure do not know!
a sugar maple leaf slips free
counting toward One proof
the Seven Mysteries
God, I count prime gaps
I watch prime numbers growing
only primes orbit
a rule sends one step
loops return periods double
recursion counts One
an iteration
within fluid smoothness frays
water turns inward
can you see the curve
study elliptic rank shifts
findings test the rank
questions spiral out
unknown patterns circle back
pi bends into sight
a proof can be checked
still search cannot prove it now
checking outruns search
every loop turns east
the count folds back into form
through form, God's Haiku
the sugar-maple leaf settles on frost
children of the corn start to awaken
Existence is a frail leaf
battered by the storm
Tossed about by winds’ desires
vibrance turned forlorn
Why cling we so to what we know
returns to ash and dust
To make our mark, to light a spark
a candle midst the dark
Knowing our Sun was once a star
permits my thoughts to wander far.
Raising my eyes at night to see
the twinkling stars look back at me.
The closest ones fill out my view,
and far beyond Earth's avenue,
deep endless space holds many more
beyond which we cannot explore
Are we alone- most want to know!
Probability assumes no!
A star can turn into a Sun-
attracting planets to be spun.
A distant Sun could be like ours
progressing from the realm of stars,
develop its own atmosphere;
that part for life becomes so clear.
Providing all the minerals
and moisture in the air that spills
in making clouds that form the rain
which living things must have, retain.
The law of probability
says yes! Impossibility -
Earth can not be the only one!
Surely, there is a distant Sun.
I sit enthralled,
on mesh bench,
honeycomb pattern,
close of afternoon,
jaw-dropping stretch ,
cars drift by,
cordial wave,
from otherworldly,
enigmatic stranger,
whose astral path,
I may have crossed,
in urban flyby,
face to face,
amidst sojourn littered,
with ethereal clouds,
glowing chatters,
sunny disposition,
from affable dwellers,
gladsome day experience,
now whither that,
mystery figure
She walks amongst the Stars
and fuses, catching particles of woven energy,
in calmness and serenity
through porous, seeping, vein filaments
what looks like, frozen reflecting ice ferns.
Is it the activity of sensory
Spiritual depth ?
Is it electric current ?
Dressed in atmospheric lights
flowing through transparent tiny droplets
its lightening rivers, seen in the iris of the eye.
Volts, like the nervous system
and tattoo's permanently, of an image
in ones mind
an invisible face,
hidden by a visible veil
of Blue
As in the mind of the sculptor
who sees a face or figure
to be revealed
in a block of stone or caressed
into form out of a lump of clay,
the sacred too is held hidden
within the appearance
of ordinary things.
I seldom notice
in the hurry and self occupied
focus of my life the profound
silence that lays at the core
of the magpie's exquisite song,
the still across which clouds move,
the emptiness into which
all the contents of a day are poured.
And in the turmoil that sometimes
rages through my mind
am I aware of the calm
at the very centre of who I am
and in the essence
of all created things. Nor do I
grasp eternity along whose
endless path time ticks out
its measured steps
and my life on this planet
plying a universe that seems
to be expanding into
an unanswerable mystery,
a Mind writing itself in matter
and gifting me in its vast
unfolding, a part, a moment
of form.
I awake and here I am,
naught but a mere mortal man.
Why came I this weak way,
restrained in fragile skin,
little but stiffened clay,
imprisoned as are all men?
Flesh will away, that soon day,
to the dust where it had been.
Then I will really be Me,
with mind and soul soaring free.
- Darrell Simmerman copyright 2024
The Bermuda Triangle, does it still exist?
For a long time there has been no mention
No airplanes vanish, nor ships and boats missed
What’s happened to famed fifth dimension?
I read about time tunnels, unquiet zones
Toxic vapours of methane hydrate
Triangle get lost, so no happy returns
The last of great mysteries fades
Its magnetic field has been demagnetized
Or maybe the global warmth stroke
Bad seaweed has died, and the air clarified
So the danger zone evoked a joke
No one gives a damn was it fiction or truth
That old hype has veered off the track
But I'd much prefer to see this in the news:
“The Bermuda Triangle strikes back!”
Don't try to understand too hard.
The lyrics you may disregard.
For, in life's song, you must see
the meaning's in the melody.
peep from both ends of the keyhole
as formless consciousness aware
we discover there’s no one there
and yet strangely presence feels whole
You live for moments
For a light to shine on your face
It still remains dim
it's really quite clever
to never utter never
retaining the fun of playful endeavour
seeking mysteries of life forever and ever
past times these words were declared
never again because of how I once fared
then I've reneged developed skills unimpaired
there's little to gain unless once again dared
the message I value don't ever resist
much more satisfying when I doggedly persist
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