Cosmic Adventure
There, upon the launchpad, the countdown proceeds
as bolts explode, and the umbilical apparatus releases,
and massive amounts of energy bursts from engine ignition
to create propulsion thrust and lift-off reaction
for the vehicle’s escape from Earth’s gravitational attraction
in sequential stages, skyrocketing into the orbital trajectory
of slingshot phenomenon to the universe of cosmic adventure,
likened to explorers in olden days piercing the unknown aperture.
Through the porthole, astronauts marvel at the spectacular scenery
as they watch their country on the blue planet disappear gradually.
Emotionally restrained, the astronauts resume their mission,
methodically pushing buttons and recording observations
in a four-dimensional continuum relativity experience,
limited in scope by the laws of scientific ingenuity.
In my dream, a porthole of misty seas, I find myself anew,
My skull, a closed shell, from the shell of a celestial egg,
Together with you, I recreate you from the clay of memories,
Blowing upon you the eternal kiss of desires.
We rejuvenate for a millennium while God rests,
Allowing our souls to bloom in the dandelion of humanity,
A corporeal flower, intoxicated by hallucinatory longing and living water,
Drowned in thoughts, living your new, unrepeatable eternity.
Just as life dares to transport its soul into a corpse,
We chew words spoken before the dawn of destiny,
Foaming fortune in the fire of what was given to us,
In the spring rains, my love, our destiny will sprout.
My love will bloom even after death, within you,
In a dance of eternity, under the star-filled sky,
Dreams will guide our steps on the mysterious paths of the heart,
Wandering through metaphors, in search of the sublime truth.
A perfect storm on its treacherous course,
The wonder of nature and its powerful force.
In the storm's eye, it is calm and serene,
It's the mayhem around that lies in between.
A power unleashed that knows not of grace,
When ravaging landscapes, whilst leaving its trace.
The heartbeat of thunder is a symphonic sound,
The pandemonium surrounding is fierce and unbound.
Yet here in the eye where silence resides,
Is a moment suspended as fury collides.
When inside the vortex, its strength and its might,
The power of destruction is a wondrous sight.
A world splintered into fragments and out of control,
In the eye lies its chaos, looking through its porthole.
Amidst all the turmoil, as the world, it explodes,
You see plans for the future, as hope it erodes.
With a future uncertain, with an end always near,
As time it stands still in its own stratosphere.
Remember, time that is lost it is never found again,
Each second is a treasure we find it hard to retain.
.
noth'n sounds more sweeter
than
the jamaican windz help'n
the salty wet slap 'gainst mine
cabin's porthole
her'z
arrrr
tresses flap'n 'gainst me face
her vocalz
just the slight
mine hear
hey
she be
yar
toroidal heart
confers with crown
taking our third eye along
soles of feet and burning palms
await moment of reckoning
yet without so seeking
bindu as the source
opens a hidden porthole
allowing consciousness to bilocate
each centre thus complete in itself
hums a sublime ethereal note
whispered to us alone
02-June-2023
Outside the sanctum, clenched teeth, tension,
a sense of being spun slowly, in comical ocean drift
Bobbed cork barely able to rein my orientation.
Luckily, current flux of haphazard happening flapped
a variable vantage.
Blown as though by silk hankie butterfly blessing
launched under lead light detail dragonfly wing
Inside the sluice.
tender seagrass arms greet me, surprise caressed
Silky entry to a tepid tub, a calm community
of smug inner sanctum club members, afloat.
Blind to bedlam, their faces automatically accepting
Smarmy, aloof, knowing the code
Clicked into correct holding pattern
Galvanized now among the longed for,
unlocked passage
Boasts a right angled me, porthole refuge
Catatonic sanctum immune to struggle
Bay of steady abundance
Top step mission for admission somehow granted mine
Spotlight shon on my cloned social demeanor,
Meticulously honed modesty of highbrow gallery.
24th February
Written for Contest: Gateway
Sponsor: Constance La France
whirling colors of the cosmos
a new window opens up
azure porthole promising a new world
I gasp at her surrounding oranges
my favorite colors
I sat quietly staring out the porthole window
As we were passing over a village in the low hills
A cumulus cloud casting over its ominous shadow
Far below in the silence of the engine’s shrills,
I wondered where those tiny people were going
Beneath the wing nary a songbird nor butterfly
Alone streaking through the frigid air, the Boeing,
Not a face lifted from village below to the sky
Then it was gone, as quickly as I had imagined,
I rummaged through my satchel of ordinaries
Forgetting a whole community of unexamined
Miniatures, no concern for untended cemeteries,
I had long forgotten when the plane descended
My sweet reveries in solitude, my journey ended.
Written June 10, 2022
Submitted to "2022 Marathon Mile 1" Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Mark Toney
There is a magical realm in my world, where I feel no fear.
A place of unique experiences, in which I never shed a tear.
It's here that my senses are heightened, time and time again,
where my imagination has no bounds with paper and my pen.
A princess rescued and dragons roar in mystical lands I create
Here, I write fairytale endings and determine a creature's fate
In this amazing domain I view things without using my eyes.
As a poet, I can conceive anything that ingenuity can devise.
Sometimes, when I'm fast asleep, my heart travels in flight
along paths of fanciful dreams, so I pick up my pen and write
about things I see as I journey through my psyche's porthole
penning marvelous adventures that burn deep inside my soul
Maybe now you can understand this wonderful gift I possess
In this magic place I am free from disappointment and stress.
Alone with my thoughts I find beauty in balanced symmetry.
Can you comprehend why I find pleasure in writing poetry?
*Entered into contest with kind permission of my co-writer* November 1, 2021 DO- IT (DUETS) Poetry Contest Sponsored by James Edward Lee Sr
There is a magical realm in my world, where I feel no fear.
A place of unique experiences, in which I never shed a tear.
It's here that my senses are heightened, time and time again,
where my imagination has no bounds with paper and my pen.
A princess rescued and dragons roar in mystical lands I create
Here, I write fairytale endings and determine a creature's fate
In this amazing domain I view things without using my eyes.
As a poet, I can conceive anything that ingenuity can devise.
Sometimes, when I'm fast asleep, my heart travels in flight
along paths of fanciful dreams, so I pick up my pen and write
about things I see as I journey through my psyche's porthole
penning marvelous adventures that burn deep inside my soul
Maybe now you can understand this wonderful gift I possess
In this magic place I am free from disappointment and stress.
Alone with my thoughts I find beauty in balanced symmetry.
Can you comprehend why I find pleasure in writing poetry?
*Entered into contest with kind permission of my co-writer*
November 1, 2021 DO- IT (DUETS) Poetry Contest
Sponsored by James Edward Lee Sr
my
keyhole
gaze outside
the visions of
light push aside a collage of my dreams
day’s calling illusions of realities
reflections of
passing sun
seeking
night
prompt 1
From stem to stern
This ship sails across the ocean
It’s helm turns it’s rudder
Always in your direction
Both lost in this bottle, out at sea
I send this message to you
Hoping it will find you
Below in our cabin
I lay with you
Turning on your lighthouse light
Spinning it around and around
As the water flows above
Through the cabin porthole
I hear a yell from up above
Land ahoy it’s loud and clear
The anchor is placed deep into the sea
This storm of thunder
With Lighting flashing I gaze down upon you
The last sound that is heard
You whispering into my ear
I love you
Revenge of sort
The old ship has four cranes for loading
Also, unlading has anchored in
the bay
For four days.
It must be hot all portholes are open and the cook
Sweats in the galley it drips onto the dough
Moreover, into the food, cooks transpire a lot and it
Has to go somewhere.
They call him a fool but eat his sweat a sweet
Revenge a secret he keeps to himself.
The crew pick rust and paint a little but most
Of the time they sit in the mess hall waiting for
Something to eat.
Dinner is served, the cook wash pots and pan
Goes into his cabin lays down on the couch the one
Under the porthole, and sleeps till it is time
To prepare the evening meal.
I float
in breathless transience
of heartbeats
as the moon's feral pupil peers
through keyholes
in the clouds
The Orpheus kiss
is a crap shoot
elevens showering sterling whispers
of soft Tiffany roses
from gentle arbors
or twelves
of black sky thundering
bastard answers
to unspoken prayers
I may toss
in subconscious unrest
but deep in pulsing ether
the pristine artery
to salvation sweetly beseeches
like an incandescent porthole
the siren lure of morning
from lips of nightmare
7/21/19
Get the balance right
In space
Where zero gravity drains your limbs
Of strength
Circumnavigating the earth
The place of your birth
You miss through misty porthole
Contemplating the glaring shortfall
All we ever wanted
All we ever needed
Is in the power of our hands
We can only do harm
And are oblivious to the deafening
Sound of the Alarm
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