This tide of evoking
Of its fear-chilled onrush
Eves, o'ertaken by.
Teared wreck am whereby.
That which blows, sun's last gasp
From out: regret; regret.
Met, prized as too late
True love. Its bright fate.
City hub on wings
apogee of ultra bright
fire within urban comet
tangerine signpost
to future halcyon spot
amidst buoyant step onrush
Bouncy castle perk
spurs avid market stall pitch
bargain in a jiffy bag
loophole hatched off-curb
brainwave surge from genie flash
to everyone’s benefit
Silver winter tinged
trees and wet overcast skies
never dampen township verve
that heartland zeitgeist
typical of boom and bloom
day or night march on dweller
Sweep off feet vision
endemic to rapid shifts
where marvel woos miracle
in heady cocktail
at the cutting-edge hubbub
point of entry upbeat frame
As witness consciousness, we hush heart’s blush
Thoughts rested, attention animated
In time stretched calm, placid, peaceful and plush
From mundane existence, insulated
With cravings of lower mind vacated
Treading gently, renouncing pathways stern
We feel presence by love impregnated
Engulfed in bliss mists, we willingly burn
Humming a melody, as does the thrush
We play out our ordained role, as fated
Every heartbeat heightens, with love our crush
Each emote now as by truth dictated
Demons of our past, thus decimated
Benign love friction causes nodes to churn
How long for this moment, soul has waited
Engulfed in bliss mists, we willingly burn
Polarities dance, the mingle and brush
Nodes within are, by spirit rotated
Feeling a sublime elixir onrush
No wonder heart is always elated
Surging joy that cannot be translated
Magnetism cascades in mind-body urn
Each breath prayerfully celebrated
Engulfed in bliss mists, we willingly burn
Gently thus, by grace initiated
Twice born, we live on, truth of Self discern
Transformed by light, soul’s illuminated
Engulfed in bliss mists, we willingly burn
Somewhere as I write, a plane’s acceleration
Against the onrush of wind, gaining speed
Defying gravity’s norms, lifting, struggling,
While a hundred people or more prepare
Feigning relaxation for the journey ahead,
A plethora of emotions, some feeling dread
As the silver tube pierces cold, stagnant air
Attendants, beverages and snacks juggling,
Attempt to meet weary passengers’ need
Each one eagerly anticipating a destination.
Written March 8, 2022
[Verso-Rhyme]
THE DOGS OF SPRING
Days get menacingly long;
Pristine azure heavens feel the threat
From the sky’s cloud-throng,
Leaving shrunk icicles with wet regret.
Exhausted, the heroic shards of crystal
From blessed winter’s breath
Are dashed to a dripping saliva death.
In the heated onrush of times vernal.
Strength ruined by April,
Glistening bergs in the estuary:
Relent with brutal battery
To become sculptures fragile.
Attrition grows stronger, beyond repair
In the dark spring night.
Respite white becomes rare,
As unleashed dogs bark and bite.
Villanelle : On listening to Al Di Meola, John McLaughlin and Paco de Lucia Concert - June 12, 1980
Tico Tico swallows tumbling in the frisky air
Round and round in Rondenôs whisk sparrows
Paco aloof in Andauzian tempo Malaguena rare
Piroueting incisive onrush cascades bare
No strings wave upon wave in strict sweeping rows
Tico Tico swallows tumbling in the frisky air
John abeting Al to shake free from Camaron dare
The tsunami shaking out of the Devil's maws
Paco aloof in Andaluzian tempo Malaguena rare
All argumentative cursing beginning no-where
Irascible abrasive rabid racy tune soars
Tico Tico swallows tumbling in the frisky air
Torrential currents let John loose in manic scare
That Al contests entraps in torrid lassoes
Paco aloof in Andaluzian tempo Malaguena rare
This salmagundi of virtuoso notes snare
One and all from the caverns of Sleepy Hollows
Tico Tico swallows tumbling in the frisky air
Paco aloof in Andaluzian tempo Malaguena rare
© T. Wignesan - Paris, 2018
Brief respite lapsed,
Gray day too harsh
To venture out
As noontime last
When sidewalks teemed
With jacketless grins
And one pert, lithe runner
Of vernal youth
Flashed her bare palm
In friendly passing …
Now, through fogged pane,
I downheartedly watch
Three daffodils bob
Canary heads
Against this onrush
Of chill wet air:
Spring taunts winter’s
Doomed oppression.
A tempest of brute force whips the coastline
Where boats and seafarers howl for dire plea;
Unshaken, I guard with strength to disarm
The lash of tide’s wrath… my tower, a marquee.
Though brazen crests dart like slithering mesh
As Night Keeper, rays glint to face storm’s dare
Protecting tender lives, their hopes on edge
Upon roughened waves, my lights flash, “Beware!”
Infusing more ardor till an onrush calms
Heaven’s stars glitter while ships haul the net;
Where from the ridge, my safe harbor appears
On easel of bright air, a task well met!
..................
Contest: Eve Roper’s Sentinel Quatrain
4/14/2016
Time, Cuts Like A Knife
Would I perish in this onrush of racing time
if so would that be a gentle mercy or a crime
Dying one travels a sad mystery called Death
should one fight death until that last breath
Is love truly the fullfillment of the great Law
or just a futile recording of all that we saw
Hush and a sweet wind will grace your life
wash away the worries and constant strife
Sleep well from exhaustion as a faithful goal
satisfaction that greatly enhances the Soul
Fill your life with many very worthwhile deeds
sow goodness with many compassionate seeds
All things are temporary in this very short life
time awaits no man while it cuts like a knife
R.J. Lindley
11/23/1983
Deep ravines of the land
mirror the deep ravines
inside us all
Canyons where the remnants
of past ages
can be seen
They have left their mark in stone
Another age
Another time
When things were
vastly different
then
they
are
today
Readers of this poem
Remember the words of Pythagoras
"Time is the stream I go fishing in"
We cannot halt the onrush of the years
The vast ravines within and without
will have their say
"This too shall pass" -
words of comfort from the great King Solomon
can help us on our way
to eternity
Your touch on my body
Saw an ocean in a drop
Couldn’t check onrush
Our beings are highly sensual
Our bodies highly sexual
We thrive for the sensation
Of our ultimate exaltation
Our bodies are electrified
Our sense of touch will guide
Over flesh covered with goose bumps
As our blood quickly pumps
Our breathing gets heavy
As an onrush of feelings destroy the levy
A levy that was built to protect
Our spirits from harm and disrespect
Our bodies come together
With the feel of soft, supple leather
The taste of sweetness on your tongue
This moment keeps us forever young
We have created immense heat
As our bodies accept defeat
Our lovemaking has come to an end
You are my soul mate and best friend.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
©copyright Juanita Torr
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Touched by you, I am
Eclipsed:
Wanton, we gather superficially at the
Center of warm flesh,
Decoding one another's fractured forms.
I feel, for all purposes, in a
Self-defeating sense, Desire
Of tidal proportions, an Oceanic
Onrush, only to be drowned in.
"Eclipse"
Jenna-Nichole Conrad
Wordsmith
Bamboo Tree
26 February 2012
Evergreen tree-like green herbage
Abounding woody stems travelling upwards
In a flick, moments-of-memory refuse to cede
At the sound of rustling leaves, pay off a reverie
Pliant in face of neither storms nor monsoons
It just sways and bends but never lose its elegance
Misty outside and leafing out to commune
Submissive to nature’s onrush by its restless dance
As the wind blows in every direction
Unmindful are we to disregard nature’s course
God’s invitation to see and listen into its perfection
On how each sight and sound heal one’s scarce
Bamboo nodes strengthen its stem
Each step is a faint for its humble growth
Interaction – a never dying language for ecosystem
Find comfort to its shadows as a token of troth
Not built for eternity but new shoots will replace
To repeat its vow to shed green leaves to procreate
An inseparable companion to give refuge and embrace
For all passing guests finding a way to relate
Noel N. Villarosa
I never been
ocular witness
one of the happiest moments
that I dreamed.
I did never taste
the wine of freedom
that I knead in my cellars.
And the river goes down onrush,
in order to sweep
this litter life.
So here I am
At the bank of Acherons
grin and bear it
as in a bus station.
The system
is doping me with money.
My friends
promise me a sunny day.
And I want
the future now!
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