SANGUINE TEMPERAMENTS-:-
phlegmatic
melancholy
perfectus
visibly
reflected
to EXPRESS EUPHORIA
embodied
endured
dispositioned
contemplative
temperaments
as an EMBLEM TRANSCENDED
evokes
references
resplendent
short-lived
paradise
Poised in peace, it may appear we’re phlegmatic
but the truth is heart’s drenched in bliss mists sublime,
thus in vibrant aloneness we’re ecstatic,
consciousness attuned to God’s magnetic chime.
The light of Self within is always aflame;
made in God’s image, soul and He are the same
and thus there remains for us nothing to do,
save feeling refrains of bliss rapture renew.
Phil’s attitude and responses were phlegmatic.
He hid them away in his grandma’s attic.
Difficult to arouse was Phillip McGee.
Played poker well, quite unlike give-away-face me.
yeah, i went in
and i picked up a novel and took it to the counter
she said, "oooh, i do like this one. so heartbreaking and inescapable.
it's about being dislocated from friends and numbing routine and desire."
i said, "it's not for me, it's for my mate, bill."
the bloke behind the counter came over and whispered to me,
"before death, i will be recognised
as an expert fencer. all we have left is fantasy or the examination of the self."
his name badge read 'peter'
he had the phlegmatic charm of a proto-slacker
he handed me the receipt and
i ate it in front of him
The four seasons mark the turning year,
Spring, Summer, Autumn, and Winter clear.
Four phases of the moon at night we can see,
Waxing, Full, Waning, and New, set free.
The earth has four elements that matter,
Earth, Air, Fire, and Water to splatter.
The four directions from which winds blow,
are North, South East and West on show.
Matter has four states to behold,
Solid, Liquid, Gas, and Plasma to unfold.
The four causes in nature are con-formal,
To the material, final, efficient and formal.
For the faithful, the four cardinal virtues include,
Justice, Prudence, Temperance, Fortitude.
The four personality temperaments, so emphatic,
are Sanguine, Choleric, Melancholic, Phlegmatic.
There are four colors in a printing pot stack,
Cyan, Magenta, Yellow, and Black.
Where we are, when, is defined by four dimensions sublime,
Length, Width, Height and Time.
What about those 'four-letter' words you cry?
Enough said! Let us not be led awry!
2. "over the waters blue the night winds sigh, the breakers roar ... Samual Taylor Coleridge
Wailing wind amid strongest ocean storm
Night falls swiftly on tumultuous scene
Sailors aware for they have been well-warned
This is their reality not a dream.
Through long hours before sun ordains to rise
Neptune's wrath bombards with no sign of grace
Mariners strong, elements they defy
Lighthouse aids battle and fear is erased.
As ocean's tantrum slowly does abate
Sunrise breaks through the darkest of dark night
Yet, sailors' love of ocean 'tis innate
Phlegmatic, fearless men removed from fright.
”Spontaneity chooses not to rehearse,
playful, joyful, embracing offered surprise,
vibrant in the void, one with the universe,
delighting beholding bliss beats within rise,
cajoling head-heart entwined, to pen a verse,
celebrating rebirth, when our ego dies.”
Wary ego, always tip toeing with care,
prone to weigh and size, negates offered surprise,
phlegmatic its stooped stance, mostly unaware,
trauma bonding with sorrow, with each breath dies,
head-heart in conflict, which never ever pair,
dwelling in the shadows, love and light decries.
Repeated reincarnations reveal,
that on ensouling a new body-mind,
the truth of agape love, we cease to feel
and as we flounder about on earth blind,
we are caught in ego’s relentless bind.
Recognising this fact, how should we act,
since we are no longer by wisdom backed?
The optimal path is thought cessation,
requiring simply we cease to react,
nonchalant to outcomes and sensation.
All answers are within, so let’s begin
by becoming a witness to ourself,
in the flow of life, choosing to plug-in
but having no agenda in our shelf,
watching how fate pans out all by itself.
We’re not suggesting a phlegmatic stance
nor ceasing striving, leaving all to chance,
yet being still, in timeless time we learn
of how nodes within us joyfully prance,
as in fire of bliss, we willingly burn.
Sunday morning beauty
Comes into the room
Much anticipation
Excitement in full bloom
Straightfaced and phlegmatic
I cannot let her see
That inside I'm ecstatic
My heart and mind agree
I'll look at her for moments
A second, two, or three
"I know you want to for much more
but don't," says me to me
Then later in the break room
I'll make sure there's a chair
That's open right near where I am
And hope that she sits there
So I can be close by her
For precious extra time
Then later at my thinking spot
I'll put it into rhyme
It's a way for me to tell her
In writing what I think
Another way's recording
With a smile and a wink
phlegmatic
insipid
like a corpse
bliss suffused
enlivened
joyous soul
let’s choose life
innocence
vibrancy
10-May-2023
Tricube
"We ourselves feel that what we are doing is just a drop in the ocean. But the ocean would be less because of that missing drop". Mother Teresa
Moonlight shimmers on the phlegmatic ocean.
Creating a whimsical billow of prose.
On the zenith of the print's folds, as spoken.
The carol "Induces Sleep" by Seas' Compose
With a sweep of waves, echoing your passion.
Gloom made him unwise; life was a growing rose.
Red-colored ripples amidst the white-blue foam
The moments are short, and my love is now home.
Seeing the crest of crimson sunset ripple
The azure ocean disappears after night.
And each time I get adjacent, I whistle.
It's a cool way, yet tough in a high stake fight.
Earth is waning, and all are growing little.
I can't cross the lines, and wait for morning light.
Body, blood, and anguish are racing on board.
Rainbow prism waves tendril moist to kiss the chord.
Checked by: HMS.COM/ 11 syllables per line--Rhyme; abababcc-dededeff
Written: March 24, 2023
1st place contest winner
Writing Challenge - 'O' Words Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Constance La France
What is it about Sunday night
that the universe just can't get right
Sunday days, often serene
Monday morns, fueled by caffeine
But Sunday nights, phlegmatic and placid
as if all of creation just went flaccid
I guess I might as well cash in my chips
and ride out this night's eternal eclipse
I waited, anticipated
Hopes were high, bloated
It was too much to ask, inflated
I lowered my sights, deflated
Tried not to be hurt, shielded
Numbed my senses, phlegmatic
Checked the date and time, could be wrong
I fought back and forth, sparred
Willed a lunge, parry, riposte, touché
But, when it came, it fizzed
The expectation feud,
blew out the candles.
Fear of freedom, blue skies now seem grey
Phlegmatic pessimism, own hand stays
Whilst cheerful maverick
Fearless to try new tricks
Makes escape to freedom, simple play
06-May-2021
Quitters never win poetry contest
Sponsor: Margarita Lillico
syllable count: 9,9,6,6,9
In the photographs,
times are submitted
by the cameras and their
phlegmatic blasé flashes ...
They do not care
with us...
Wedding,
graduations,
picnics or portraits...
impressions
taken to contradict
appearances ...
Flashes, selfs, intend
capture moments ... but
everybody lies...
True mornings,
sad afternoons ... but yes
people laughing at the truth,
or crying lies ...
Mocking smiles appear,
smiling faces, quibble ....
Even the cheerful costumes,
the fun colors only compose
a buffoon theater ... when
it should be Greek tragedy ...
And life, so we wish to
believe follows free ...
But even children,
that we desire to believe, are not
authentic in the photographs ...
And we travel on our
own lives with light
of our illusions, our
visions not always so
criticism ...
And we always believe
in realities that don't exist,
no longer exist ... they are only
ancient photographs taken
in atmospheres that today
we are told: we are the fake
of our current days ...!
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