RIDING ON THE MOONRISE
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
In monochromatic musings the moon rises--a deep silver ballerina, turning pirouettes with perfect form. In eternal stoic grace, she takes her place in the heavens, content to ever-reflect the light of the sun. Her moonbeams appear as runways in the starry night.
dreams ride on moonbeams
hung from that silver being
as dreams always do
A friend of mine just called me
Since her flight has been delayed,
With Newark messing up the plans
So many folks have made.
I do not live in Jersey
So this airport isn’t mine,
But it isn’t far and all its problems
Somehow crossed the line.
Construction on the runways
Made United cancel flights
And controllers walking off the job
Brought danger to new heights.
Equipment failures add a new
Dimension to this scourge
And to worsen this fiasco,
There’s some rain about to surge.
My friend’s flight was rerouted
To an airport close to me
And I hope she gets to fly today,
But there’s no guarantee.
Salvation
(A lone voice whispers)
Do you believe in absorbing esoteric supernatural impressions
To clear your pathways
Of all mental or traumatic depression's
To then walk down life's metaphysical runways
Like a young Gabrielle Bonheur Chanel or an inspired
Paul Poiret
If so
Because I believe
In you
Always be optimistic and open to being positive when exploring newer experiences
For true belief
Lies in the right mindset in all you do
To transform your soul into your best version of a sage or mystic
Allowing you to chase stars and wild Middle Earth dreams
To bind old mistakes and fears
To white metaphorical feathers
To throw them into the healing fires within your mind
For their old powers over you
In the unconscious rising smoke retire
As you learn which new bridges to cross
And which old bridges to burn
For sacred self-knowledge and empowerment is ubiquitous
A chimera
A conjunction of wild beasts
Roaming wild
Living life through
Eight letters called Salvation
Which to the child of the Revived
Like you
Cannot never ever be denied
(C)
Copyright John Duffy
The Real Christmas
From Black Friday to Christmas Eve,
presents to purchase and wrap.
Office and family parties, visits to relatives
platters of food and gallons of alcohol.
Trees dressed to the nines in dangling baubles
and twinkling lights.
Continuous Christmas carols blaring from radios
and loud speakers.
Wreaths and decorations to adorn tables,
night stands, credenzas, book shelves.
Lights hung in strings so large that rows
of houses look like runways for planes.
Inflatable Santas, snowmen, reindeer and nutcrackers
compete for space in yards.
Nativities, pageants, plays special music
consume congregations.
Is this the real Christmas?
Or perhaps it is-
A silent night, two thousand years ago
in a dimly lit cave.
A babe wrapped in woolen clothes
lying in a sheep’s feeding trough.
Only shepherds and loving parents
in attendance.
An infant destined to change history.
The future savior of the world.
Seperate roads ever converged
Runways generousos in plentiful serge
Refining aligning elevated themes
Hit the strip with full sun beams
Spur impulsed gleaming freeway
Me at the wheel
The music YOU play
Refreshed revived with passionate fuel
Lust inexhaustible
We are unbeatable
Speedometer broken
Hearts in motion
Wheels rolling
Im still doting
Every word youve ever spoken
They all went in and we are clear
The starting line be right here
The crux
of a theory
is in what
it rules out
Clearing
the runways
narrowing
doubt
With the ballast
tossed over
all clouds
disappear
Obstacles
moved …
solutions
are near
(Dreamsleep: October, 2023)
The bonus layer of filth
Coating the experiential asphalt
Native to this smitten land
Where you either
Accelerate or exacerbate
For the bulls run hard here
In clever, desperate ways
When stacked two or six to a room Hoodies line the highways and runways Because bad hair days
Attempts to stay warm
And inconspicuous strutting
Make sense for this first dew
After a Christmas sunset
Humanity yawning
Some obligated to grind
As the sun turns again
To wonder
Where wander is the most
That many can afford.
(12/26/17)
Behind Enemy Lines
Behind
I followed through doors and passage ways
Roofs and small runways ..
The boy with a glint in his eye,
He took me up , high high to the very top
A table under the skies
Knelt on a rug
I drank tea with women of good hearts
Respect for the holy cross.
The army were coming home
And the locals didn't want to let me go.
I heard I was deep inside
They said ' run for your life'
Through a window of time
A prayer the doors stay shut
I ran like the wind through the secret map
No way will they ever know i know my way home
I ran down the dire straits,
Gahered myself , my breath , my grace ,
I walked a normal pace
In view of you all
Naked in your disgrace
The soldiers of the Holy Grail
Escorted me kindly
Out of the Old City Gates
A friend of Jesus Christ
On deep green runways
prance the pinks, plums, reds and blues
Photogenic blooms!
Much beauty under teal skies
Then dusk scents, Belladonna.
Velvet petals, famed
for rich matchless, twirling styles
at springtime's debut
Mass unaffected pretties
drenched in poise sunshine and charm.
The hour draws late
horse is in the barn
Children tucked in bed
cat's put away her yarn
Moon looms up in the sky
high over mountains and hills
Planes ease onto runways
Elders remove dentures, take pills
Quiet settles into hill and vale
No sighting of deer's white tail
I used to move as fast as cars
runways built in space and mars.
I would dart as far as I could trace
the words moving off the chart
Every other sound that rhymes
Feels like argh, I paint a corner squiggle
argh, I’m bankrupt, gridlocked power struggle
argh no way out of a jigsaw puzzle
Stopped and bound, inside my head
as round as this machine could bleed
My life into moving tree -
BANG! Bark and Fire Stark!
I awake inside a maze
Forest lost to the barren dark
Mixing things that didn’t mix
Stories I couldn't fix,
I felt a apart
I couldn’t even paint an argh
no where left but something leapt
Silent meaning had effect
Movement kept me on a stretch
where rhymes were just erect -
waving signs above my head,
hard and fixed, solid bricks
I really wanted sounds and tricks,
clever tips and catchy bits
songs that keep me in a fix
Kungfu, water, flowing bliss
Then words fell off the page again
I was back it didn’t matter
rhymes could be like fish batter
but narrative was fatter!
Planes roar down runways
Silver birds attack the skies
~ Riders lost in dreams
An apple blossom respite, among the wild springtime blooms,
Silence in hot sunshine golden, a pause in the familiar tunes,
Muted, pretty purple martins, in the season of endless green,
Indulge in a quiet spell, where teal sky and treetops convene.
Pretty blooms pause on runways, in the lazy style of summer,
Red butterflies erratically fly, to beats of a different drummer,
Lethargy now has precious time, caught within its silken grip,
Like silver moon and twinkling stars, in the endless courtship.
I shall forever remain
a night’s celestial pilgrim
meandering beneath
the skyscape’s towering dome --
And along the cobblestone
of luminous runways,
jewels of flamed beamers seem to flick
beyond earth’s tableau as the grandeur
from anonymous stars explode,
That I imagine Orion’s groove
whirling around a trillion cosmic moons—
nameless yet ascertained...
for some percieved reason, each nova
circles on its own orbital zone
pulsing then ebbing through my
enigmatic impression ... until
I am devoured by each shimmer,
each odyssey, each dancelight--
making my quill’s ink curdle again.
Pareidolia Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Craig Cornish 8/22/2020
My foot is four legs of a tortoise
My thump is anchor of my docking
My reason is the traffic light of red lights only
My patience is the hand break of a vehicle
Their ‘batakari’ has wings to fly over me
Their worm-length’s shape has assumed e-train’s speed
Their purpose has influenced reason
Their haste has dismantled rightful queues
My hope of getting there is terminated
My hope of timely-fulfilment is turned time-will-tell
My very core of success is just an envisaged hallucination
My comfort of hope is … ‘God will tell when’
Life is not a competitive errand
Life must be fulfilling through struggles
My much efforts draining, I can’t change my aging
They pass through the hasty runways
Through dubious means to by-pass me
To achieve their over-ambitious greed-filled lives
At the expense of the down trodden.
I am not blaming the successful for my plight
But the gate has to be opened to all,
The apian way is an abomination.
Do unto the politicians, the vote winners, the powerful and the privileged
Including their relations, associates and affiliates
As you do unto the civilian, the vote casters, the commoners and the under- deprived.
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