People would argue a new life comes to light,
With a bubble about to burst at its height.
A baby on the verge of its first cry,
A bird about to take the first fly,
A clock waiting to strike twelve,
A book about to come out of the shelf.
A lion about to leap on his prey,
A storm brewing in the cloudy grey,
An early hour on the cusp of dawn,
The stretch of lips just before a yawn.
Many would say the effervescence of life,
Is when one comes out of its long dormant night.
Vivacious in its will to live and see,
The many wonders like a petulant plea.
I, on the other hand, would beg to differ,
Not by much, not much of a revelation bigger.
The froth must go out at its height,
As others so eloquently put with their might.
But it's the one last spark before they lie to rest,
One last hurrah to have lived, loved and expressed.
It expands with its last full breath of world-lust,
Before sinking into oblivion and returning to dust.
Over the pond’s lilies’ leaves,
morning dew settles glistening sleeves —
a covering to compliment the green,
a translucent, hint-of-blue ~ from a quivering
mist hanging, hushing everything, so all the doing
of sunrise dances must in-stasis remain…
~ or transfer by essence to the understanding
intuiting within — to find birds preen, not taking wing;
and trees upswing drying branches, delighted by wet dew.
All breathe the notes of summer’s ending nocturne
composed throughout the woods and, now, day upon day,
repeat that lullaby, trickling the scales as in a piano’s play
to accompany the year’s passing time, turning into autumn
with her blazing, flaming, dazzling, bejewelling
before Mother Nature deeply exhales — weeping dew
over all her gardened Beauty blooms — beginning
their fated wilting, falling, final, felt arias’ murmuring
the refrains life plants within, holding a promise of re-birth
to come past winter’s dominance, all frozen still
with a quiet sleeping peace — prelude to renewal…
to dawn’s Spring dances and the refreshing touch of dew.
Turning to Spring
While winter yet remains
My heart feels the hidden sleeping
Stirring to bloom
Below ground, the underneath
Sensing re-birth
Gently rumbling over Earth,
North of the Equator,
The sky has lost a degree of washed-through
White, given to a deeper shading
Sweep of cerulean blue
Preparing to silhouette all
Stirring to bloom.
————————————————————————-
(c) sally young eslinger 2/25/23
Thanks be to God…
P.".
.…
."
Like a sinking sun,
Betwixt earth n' sky,
Viz a fallen hero
Crowning melodious charm,
Braze me, to raise
As the phoenix.
GONE *********
I am old now. I try to forget
All our faults, and for us, many memories
Leave of their own accord, especially
The worst ones, taking off in a run
To follow him? To Neverland
And horrid pirates from whom
We tried to teach him to evade.
My mind now clouds. Our hearts
Mourn into the mist of tearful eyes...
His father and me...Left
Wondering where did he go?
Or just when did he die?
And might
Blessings, or prayers, or angels,
Or Truth
Ever help to bring re-birth?
**********.
———-END NOTE
PLEASE RE-READ. I have left themeaning & questions open. BUT it is actually about our adopted son who disowned us without explanation at age 25. At time of my passion of writing this he’d been gone without any word for two years.
(C) sally Young eslinger 2017
"The Shadows of Water through Glass"
Schools in,
looking for meaning
in the Shadows of Water through Glass
Observing
the scaled Gold Gifilte fish
with a minced mind stuffed inside its own skin
Swimming in circles, a delicacy
devouring its own scéals
looking for denotation
From the faces of
schooled fish habitually weary, leering
in the Shadows of Water through Glass
The shadows are dissoluble
the minced mind swallows its own tales
rebirthing like a Russian Doll
disconnected, in gravitas
it continues to swim
an appetiser for the bigger things
(LadyLabyrinth / 2020)
"In Gravitas" / Apparat
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dM_2FsoXtVM
"In Gravitas" / Apparat / Lyrics
https://genius.com/Apparat-in-gravitas-lyrics
"The Process revealed, which road is chosen?
Meaning is broken, the question never comes
The heartless believe, passion is misused
All the feelings abused, the answer never comes"
scéal/Irish
Lovely freshness showcases God’s wonders
Great Spring’s grand blessings, awesomely beauteous
Dulcet chirpings prevail over thunders
Gardens* assured of yields, indeed plenteous.
Fields cheerfully welcome budding bliss-sprouts
Below clouds like chiffon yearning for grace
Farms gladly gear themselves toward growth’s routes
Propelled upon heavenly power’s brace.
Re-birth highlights genuine spiritual spring
Marked by the Lord Christ’s resurrection might
With revivals that Holy Scriptures bring
Prodding souls toward transformation’s height.
Springing hope’s lace tied to faith fluorescence
Edifies new life’s marvelous essence.
*Isaiah 61:11 For as the earth bringeth forth her bud, and as the garden causeth the things that are sown in it to spring forth; so the Lord GOD will cause righteousness and praise to spring forth before all the nations.
March 4, 2019
7th place, "APRIL 2019 PREMIER 9..." Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Brian Strand; judged on 4/26/2019.
In my next life
I will be a super hero
like Batman, Human Torch and the rest
In my next life
I will be able to fly like a bird
In my next life
I will master the art of drawing
In my next life
I will be a pop star, a movie star
with all that goes with that
Hopefully those out there who
follow the plan of Mein Kampf
will boil in oil
In my next life
I will write even better poems than I do now
Maybe in Hebrew or Sanskrit
So enjoy reading verse
In your next life you will enjoy it even more!
Cleaning Clyde got to the other side
Feeling sparkly with lots of pride
Puffed up with zing
Cleaning had been his thing
Angels felt so sorry for Cleaning Clyde.
Your mission the angels said in a kind way
Was to learn how to open your mind and play
You failed at Earth
So you will have to re-birth.
All that cleaning had made him lose his way.
Cleaning Clyde did not understand.
Nothing cleaner than his pots or pans.
Washed and dusted
And nothing rusted
He stared down at his glove-covered hands
The same mission the angels said in a gentle way
Get down to earth, this time be a kid and play.
Clyde was quite mad
Angry and sad,
Had to relive a lifetime for he had lost his way
A child grows inside a womb;
a womb that is invisible, intangible,
and eternal. The mother is Consciousness;
She's everywhere and knows all.
Throughout the sands of time,
many cultures have tried to carve
and paint images of her,
yet She has no body or face.
When humans' sense of judgement is sickly,
a child is born, in the form of manifestation
of consciousness. Horus, Buddha, Christ,
and Krishna can prove the fact.
As long time and space exists,
one will always represent
rebirth of manifestation of consciousness......
#Visual Three
Waiting for you is like waiting for death
I called and asked if you would nurse me
When I fell down and injured by back
Waiting for you is like waiting for my father
I sit by the door with hope in my heart
In my mind you call and say I need you
But the call is never answered
Waiting for you is like waiting for a cure
I treat myself and take my medicine like a good boy
But my arms and hands are too short
Waiting for you is like waiting for god
I listened as some else was abused and abandon
I say that we have a lot in common
But she said let me put my arms around you
Because god has not forgotten about you
Must I embrace the joys of this material world?
Renounce them for there is no true divine pleasure.
Play with temptations to accept or reject them;
For Maya plays havoc with my body mind and soul.
Are we not the potter’s toys as you craft and mold?
Coloring us in different hues of desire.
Why then thou forsake us to dwell in this darkness;
Unleashing the devil to torment our pure dreams.
Touch us with your enlightenment and perfection,
So we may never suffer the pains of rebirth.
Re-Birth
Slow flowers explode sudden flushes
Waking days already warming rooted wintered bulbs
Hibernated yawnings burst from trees
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