Mystery. Poems

ad astra

    I’d come to loathe that dark abyss
the bright and green of earth I missed
        and holding tight within my fist
            Dad tethered safe to me
    but begging set him free

the

The Silent Kiss

The silent kiss of the night opens a door to another world.  
Hidden things emerge from their chambers,  
Mysteries are unveiled in the stillness,
There's a fellowship that comes from the deep.  

Drumbeats awaken the unseen,  
bringing forth what lies in the depths of the unknown.  
They are seen by the

Mystic

I’m a silent mystic, in the still of night,
Awakening my heart, feeling the light,
With a whisper in the shadows, I start to see,
Connecting with the universe, it's setting me free.
Through the strings of my guitar, in the moon’s sweet glow,
Writing poetry and songs, letting my spirit flow.
With every note I play, each word that I

To Fall In Love Is A Miracle

To fall in love is a miracle
Understanding to it is a riddle
Like crossing parallel lines
Symbiotic to each other
It make sense when disturbed
From simple to complex thinking
One good moment is a treasure
Never can erase in a lifetime
Even the man from Mars
Even the man from Venus
Can attract with each other
Like magnet poles opposite
As destiny is fated to

Matters of Delicacy

      Not over-delicately
        but matter-of-factly –   
          because he’d appreciate knowing 

      And so, he wondered 
        when he had

Mystery of Humpty Dumpty

In the nursery rhyme Humpty Dumpty 
Who or What he is is still a mystery.
Some think he may in fact be an egg
though the rhyme hints at no such knowledge.
And yet he’s always depicted as one
and always with legs, whereas eggs have none?
And how did he get to be on a wall
from which eventually he

With Borrowed Faces in a Place

With Borrowed Faces in a Place

We are turning around with no faces, 
Just in cases.
Heaven in our places,
Just two faces. 

Screaming out so everyone hears our bases,
 We can't hide our faces.
But truth still chases
Through hidden mazes.

Slow and smoky phrases.
Now we are visible - with our borrowed faces. 
Time erases.
There are no traces.

We are turning

A silent gardener

A man keeps planting flowers in a place no one visits.

It's not that the place is heavily guarded so no one can enter.
Or that the place is so complex, like love, many people are afraid to give it a chance.
It's not like that.

It is just an easy path to cross over to see that place

whats ahead

balter down a road
I see why I was the one in silent mode
Who else understands the unseen? Why does it have to be me?
What qualities can I share?
Someone wants my expertise?!
I want to try, even look into the other side
just a peek...
Even Jung once said that we need to look inside our darkness
to understand the

inorganic garden

metal beads dropped in
a great jar of liquid glass
will anything grow—
from inorganic kernels
tucked within a sunless hall?

rainbow branches rise
as brittle flames pierce the seas 
crystal cores blooming
art and science harmonize
in a forest made of glass

this everyone knows:
plants grow green under the sun
nature teaches still
primordial elements
are mysteries yet unearthed

Faith

Now you must have God’s insurance
So no more illnesses and pain
You are my everyday occurrence 
You live in the Elysian plain
I dream you standing by the door
Although I’m blinded by the sun
The sunny zigzags on the floor
Form the same patterns outrun
That special day may come if only
We stop to think about it
Too often, as it

Reflection in the Dark

Mirrors stand sentinel in homes,
African homes, where they're often still,
unused, like dining tables turned decoration,
gathering dust, devoid of purpose.

At night, when men slumber, the shadows stir,
underworld spirits manifest, their forms shifting,
observant, operative, unseen by mortal eyes,
yet their presence felt, a whispered rumor.

Ghommid spirits lurk, invisible, yet real,
their existence a mystery, a hidden truth.
Some abhor mirrors,

The Rocking Chair That Keeps

The Rocking Chair That Keeps…

Up in the attic, there’s something or someone 
that keeps creating an eerie, dreary air: 

for the darkness is greedy
as it smothers a world of mystery,
a century of family history,
all boxed and cased
in a crust of rust and dust!
Pictures of Dad as a sprightly lad,
Gran with no wrinkle, just a youthful

At the Casino

     lizardly he slithers in
         nursing his sloe glass of gin

     lightning flashing from his eyes
         functioning to disguise

     who and what he really is
  

To Be Continued?

People die and reappear
The same year through rebirth
I have noticed very clear
The same people walk on earth
Face type, character and laughter
Are the same, suppose they dream
The same dreams, before and after
The same places they esteem 
There’s one difference, however
They don’t know about revival
If they lived before or never
If it’s their first arrival
It's the mystery we

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