Refracts Poems

Bliss

what quanta of bliss can we hold
of God’s sublime bliss magnetism
within this form that’s made of dust
that refracts light in body prism

bliss rapture is soundless thunder
giving rise to benign cool heat
causing involuntary spasms 
that breath by breath within repeat

currents that do not ebb with time
which transmutes us as living light
enabling us to bilocate 
teleports soul to heaven’s height

bliss, the pull that takes us to God
manifests in hearts that are pure
who in stillness invoke God’s grace
egoless souls who are demure

Over the Curved Horizon

I see the horizon is not straight. 
It curves down at its ends, 
keeping the future pending, 
just out of reach, 
beyond the cliff's edge. 
It bends sharply, like water does. 
It refracts the line of expectation
into a sudden change of direction, 
tilting destiny to fall its way.

Hiku Crystals in Motion

frost refracts    m
                              o    
                                 o
                                    n 
                                       b
                                          e
                                             a
                                                m
                                                   s
prismatic interlacing 
lights waltz seamlessly

The Portal of an Oval Window

I sit and stare beyond what's there, besides
"The oval window, a portal to another dimension".
It drags the moon's eclipse off the sun's circle
to show an ellipse with twin foci, in two dimensions not one.

The tension woven into its shape shrouds a duality,
a flip-flop state, steeped in, 
and reeking with ambivalence.
An oval coracle holding on,
rocking in choppy seas.

Therein lies a worm hole, 
where logic warps to both sides, here and now, together,
where light bends, twists refracts to an oval rainbow,
where time stands still, then back-tracks
to before, to way, way back when, 
and on to now and then.

An oval belies uncertainty, 
spiraling like sand, 
down in an hour-glass
down the plug-hole, down into the sink below,
collected in an oval coracle, 
an egg yet to hatch.

Left Unspoken

between the words, silence spills, refracts
while a shadow traces the void you left
roots-entwined earth – too sacred to disturb
as arum lilies recall your grace

Reflections Within Reflections

Sometimes I feel, as though I stand,
Trapped in the prison of my own hand.
A mirror within a mirror's gaze,
A labyrinth of eternal haze.

I turn left; I turn right—there is no door,
Only endless echoes of before.
Each step I take is shown and shown,
A thousand copies of the me I've known.

The edges blur, the glass refracts,
A kaleidoscope of sinking facts.
Am I the seeker, or am I the sought?
Fragments of dreams, or shadows of thought?

The walls are whispers, silent and cold,
Reflecting truths, I can't quite hold.
Each reflection knows me more than I,
Yet none can answer my whispered 'why?'

I pound the pane, but the sound just dies,
The maze is a web of my own disguise.
Each pathway bends, each corridor curls,
A hall of mirrors, a world of swirls.

But deep within, there's something bright,
A flicker of flame in infinite night.
Perhaps the escape lies not in the fight,
But in daring to shatter and step into light.

So, I pause, I breathe, and I let it be,
The maze transforms inside of me.
A mirror is only as real as its image pretends to be;
But true freedom begins when I no longer care.

Aureate Footfall

Crisp breeze blows summer’s scorched screen away,
the somber sky revives to radiate the alluring aura, 
clumps of cloud turning cotton span its canvas,
sail shapeless across the arena of seraphic azure.

Nature’s prism refracts the ambiance of autumn
at the lucent edge of the halcyon horizon,  	
splits the slant sunbeam in VIBGYOR spectrum,
hypnotic hues trickle down the canopy of foliage.

The sepia trees line the cinnabar garden path,  
the gilded leaves bend to leave their boughs.
For them it’s time to grow golden wings and fly, 
soar toward the serene sky before they fall. 

Getting bare of bronze blanket once verdant, 
the wrinkled trunks of tawny trees stand tall. 
In the rhythmic rustle of the blushing leaves,
I hear the melody of autumn’s aureate footfall.

Even a bit of you attracts

To many, you are like rainbows,
In the sky when the sun refracts,
That, once in a blue moon it glows,
Though one, all eyes it still attracts.
Their gazes just see you in part,
'Cos most of your beauty you hid,
Still you glaze their views with your art,
But to me, your love has no lid.
Even when my mouth is whining,
Your love still sit deep in my bone,
My sky has your silver lining,
Noone else can ever be your clone.
In you, I live my world so sweet,
You cleared my eyes of teary mists,
Loving you is my fondest feat,
In my world, nothing else exists.
My love needs not wait for the rain,
My joy daily lives on your face,
My heart has a space for your reign,
My life is happy for this grace.

Existence Enshrined

The rhapsody of rainbow 
melts in morose mélange,
the concoction of colors
bleeds bland in 
shattered silence,
sucked out 
of crumbled core 
of sensuous cloud,
soothing rain rinses 
the stains in broken hearts,
shades of grey paints 
the frayed linen of love,
redundant.

The requiem 
of longing patina
of repentant rose 
resonates melancholic medley
in the portals of petals, 
the faded gloss
turns into tears 
in pearls of mourning dew, 
desiccates uncared
under the summer sun 
of the desert mind,
the wilted flower falls
on weathered gravestone 
of spent passion,
departed.

The cacophony captured 
in the melody of forlorn music,
chaotic symphony floats
out of tune
on disharmonic wave,
strained smiles displayed  
with elusive enactment 
in ostentatious podium of life,
songs turn into echo
of convoluted noise 
in hollow souls,
pretentious.

The intriguing facet  
of listless life 
seen entranced 
through liquefied layers
of cynical stratum,
configures pessimism
in the sunken essence 
of living exaltation,
the apparent aspect
refracts defiled expression 	
of warped existence,
enshrined.

Grieving the Shift

Time passes, conversation and music ends,
light refracts, shimmers in water, bends.
Nails grow, hair lengthens, heads turn and bones break,
stems wilt, gardens overgrow, clouds regurgitate water from lake.
I know that things change, the erratic constant that needs be,
but this loss of you I can’t fathom, grieving the shift from us to just me.

Narrow margins

|    From lack of reason, to quotients of densest space  
|    Through the iris of an eye, voids are commonplace  
|    Stubborn pervasive doubt, projects across the face  
|    Reassured again when mindsets find a bright place  
|    Still if one can’t see god, photons will bring a trace  
|    Filtered through life’s prism, heaven refracts apace

Key to the Highway

("Cheek to Cheek", 2024, original encaustic)

Key to the Highway

Everybody knows
Deep down in their bones
That what you see 
Is what you get

The mind being a
Conditional thing
Adopts, adapts, 
reflects, refracts

Whatever it is
We focus upon
Be it heaven 
Or be it hell

So remember this
As you make your way
That what you see 
Is what you get

But what you look for
Now there
Is the key

(2/19/24)

If Anything

“The weather phenomena, Fogbows (also known as ghost rainbows) form when sunlight interacts with much smaller water droplets contained in fog or mist, rather than rain.”    ~~ The Australian Broadcasting Commission.~~  YALTO.
 

                                           It’s something, 
                               If anything.                  It’s so. 
                      It is real.                       Tiny mist droplets, 
                All a glow.                                               Glistens.
              Do you see?                                                  Fogbow.                                                                                      
          What is it?                                                   Do you know?                                                                                                           
         It’s a ghost rainbow.                     Light refracts from the mist.                                                                                 
        Twist.                                                    A pearl white rainbow.

Detolf

Today was the first day I held 
a sledgehammer with intention
Callouses connect palms to fingers
tiny fleshy boa constrictors.

There is no catharsis
I know this to be a hollow act
With a face smithed of iron, 
a body lathed with linseed wood,
and a head full of nothing.

No I am not thinking, I am
in fact refusing to do so.
This is an act of refusal
I am choosing childish behavior.

The empty parking lot
execution spot greets
the glass bodied shelf
Which will no longer take
the space of memories it held.

What should be cold and angular
Void of anything aside reflection
is a monument of mourning
a future I shall never know.

Light refracts upon my cones,
my tunneled vision only to show
a mangled miscarriage of the man
I can never grow into with you.

Colourful

“Mind-body prism refracts soul’s soft white light ~
Each unique hue heightens our heart’s delight”
            ~ quote by poet 


Beauteous are rainbow colours seven,
one end is violet, the other red,
mirrored in form, with promise of heaven,
provided we are, by throb of bliss led.

Red is the chakra at root of our spine,
which stirs when we begin our God search quest,
above which orange asks us to align
with God’s pulsations, that we may be blessed.

Yellow at navel, is power renounced,
whence we move to heart, whose colour is green,
transcending which, erst feral instincts trounced,
we ascend to throat’s surreal blue sheen.

Higher octaves at head, set soul aflame ~
Divine entwined, we’re no longer the same

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