(“Under A Swirling Sky”, 2013, original pen & ink and acrylic)
When You Wish Upon A Star
When you wish upon a star
All the other stars watch and listen.
And in the silence
As your mind moves
They turn to stare.
The dance then shifts and turns
Adjusting to the ripple
Your little effort brings.
And opening there,
In the space above,
The space
Where wishes
All come true,
The stars align
And then shine
As they always do.
(3/13/25)
Forgotten Life!
Forgotten lives! Lives! In the cemetery of a graveyard.
Loved lives. Remembered lives, be a diamond in life
In life! Asking you about a forgotten sad life; can’t kind
A memory of the names of humankind. The Story Kind
Yes. Death can be human life, passing of the life of Life
Forgotten Lives! History of the story of humanities’ kind
Love! You are an egoist in my life. Drop me Emma; die
Forgotten lives, but noble lives, alone in a graveyard
Maybe if I close my eyes long enough
this will all just disappear.
I’ll wake up to the eyes of God and
his voice whispering in my ear.
A dream,
this life, can be so cold and cruel.
A dose of awareness here and there
isn’t quite enough to soothe.
Far away I wander
through valleys of the mind,
to ease my curious wonderings,
to slowly pass the time.
But with this steady rhythm
of the beating of a heart,
I tenderly press my ear to it and
silently fall apart.
How does one so effortlessly
calm my unreserved soul?
Your hands are weaving, through my heart,
webs of solid gold.
Beads of sweat drip down my cheek
and glisten in the sun,
as I bask in the glory of your cool embrace
and enjoy being no one.
And then I look up
into the eyes of my hero,
the soul that my soul once knew.
But I am jerked awake as I fall through
a veil of forgotten past truth.
And here I am again,
stirring in my bed.
Who is this familiar stranger
wrapped inside my head?
We once, in another lifetime, walked over the
River Seine.
Do you recall that, sweetheart, when all in life
was to gain?
Boats with colorful lights, wished our futures
be joyous and bright.
In that lifetime, not really long ago, in dreams,
you held me tight!
Is life but a dream, or a reflection of that which
I dearly cherish and hold?
Tell me true, dear, why was the Seine that star
studded night, a River of gold?
9/22/2022
~2~
Sayonara, Arrivederci, Shalom, Aloha, they all mean the same thing, Right?
or
Not?
It depends....
And whether you're experiencing "Jamais vu"
Or "Deja vu"- you will of course, have
a different reaction.
Emotions run the gamut--
that seems to be the attraction,
but underneath the skin, the veins
it's in your blood,
your DNA,
there's an imperceptible something,
absolutely something there
-ReaL-
you can't replicate it in a laboratory,
But it informs You: Who you really
Are.
In a land far far away,
In between time and space,
I see you for the first time,
I notice your eyes, those beautiful eyes,
The grace with which you move,
I will always remember that about you.
The bus jars me awake.
As I leave, you look up.
Our eyes meet I feel the desire,
As if you pierced my heart.
You walk up to me, lightly touching me on my arm,
Sending pulses to my heart.
In a whisper, you tell me,
I remember everything about you,
In the lives, we've shared.
I smile as we share a kiss releasing,
Me from my slumber of the many centuries.
I look into your eyes saying,
"How could I ever forget you?"
my judgement opens from space. islands inhabit this elegant territory. true, as if planted by god’s palm. it’s rests nowhere else. lives and eye’s, roamed here for centuries. expired here. bones are in divine locations, not discovered. rafts of bamboo carried these waters. sculptures of the heroic warrior’s in the star’s highway at night. they understood time.
i’ve been there. reached from the sky and set on the water. an elegant craft. wealth. but when? i recognize i fell through the crystal water. taken part with the roads of the sand. the moon generates arrangements sustained beyond many deaths. was I one of them?
I smiled when I woke from my dreams
Vanquished is the dark tormentor
My dreamscape has refreshed, it seems
And the nightmares cannot enter
From Native American brave
To a mystery woman’s grave
In past-life regressions, I’ve learned
Not to be overly concerned
When I woke from my dreams, I smiled
The dark tormentor is vanquished
It seems my dreamscape has refreshed
No entry now for the nightmares
And those things I’m learning right now
Will help in the future somehow
*September 3, 2020
For Charlie Messina’s Charonnet Poetry Contest
Each of us has something to remember,
We build our own homes for the past,
And there are a lot of rooms in this house,
It will hold all your past.
This is the room where you were born,
But you don't remember anything about him.
We remember our childhood more or less,
But, of course, we will not return it.
And now the door to the past happiness is already closed,
There was a lot of joy there, and He was in it.
We were very happy then,
Now I think it was a dream.
Here is a round room, surrounded by light,
There is a memory of the birth of a baby.
This is the best date of our lives,
When I held the baby barely breathing.
And there is a room with no Windows at all,
Our tears and losses live there.
There the eternal fire burns brightly,
Those doors are always locked.
Still, it's a dangerous place,
Where our past lives,
The size of the house is unknown,
But it always attracts us to it.
Raindrops dropping out,
Sea sank below golden sand,
Ashes of water.
I looked back
At my footprints
Then took a picture
To remember
The last time
I ever looked back
PAST LIVES
By Mark Miller © 11/12/2016
Marching boots upon unspoken graves,
As Censor taunts intrinsic states
Fleeing the dusk fear panic
To covet are ready many facade-.
Fallen past through people driven hosts,
Who file mechanical figure holes
Coffee Coffin breaks bewildered illusion
Of empty cubic selves lying deception
For hubris stance feeds apathy
In the living struggle pride
For the whole man's passage walks
With dust and flakes by eye's of a stranger
I was Indiana, riding with rifle pointing ahead,
then Cassanova, lost count of how many in my bed,
as Sitting Bull, I looked down directing my braves,
I passed under an arch, giving one of Cleopatra's waves.
Tried to change history - it wasn't Custer's last stand,
as Columbus, I called America India, got mixed up with the land,
we couldn't have Captain Cook murdered by a bunch of savages,
Moses didn't take any tablets - just lots of stone pages.
We knew that Nelson was gay when he said: 'Kiss me Hardy,'
and Napoleon was shunted off to St. Helena reluctantly,
I prevented 'The Maid of Orle'ans' from being burnt at the stake,
Fagin asked me to pick pockets - it was more than I could take.
Then back to the beginning - maybe Tutenkamen would do,
which exotic personage could you emulate if it was you?
Past lives in the past
Leave it there where
It belongs
Don't dig up
Don't unearth
The things of the past
Focus on the resent
Looking towards things to come
I believe that in another life
a famous singer was what I had been
learning no voice I had gave me strife
this became apparent in my early teen
The flat out of tune caterwauling
instead of sweet pure notes
had both me and family cringing
only my lover on me singing dotes
I shed many tears as I needed to sing
my talking voice is dulcet like honey
in despair I tried to find something
poetry fills the gap with verses lovely
Now when I walk out onto the stage
I spin words that soar out like notes
as musical tunes in stories I now wage
my voice fills the room and music floats
written 06/24/2014
contest Past Lives
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