Sanctuary Poems

Waxing Poetic

A quick study
fast learner
knowledge gainer
page-turner
info. retainer
midnight lube burner
all at sea
in a world of turmoil
choosing my words carefully
pouring oil on turbulent waters
a salve to soothe the sorry soul
picking only those
which carry weight
reset the balance
and the sentiment I wish to state
losing myself in the still point
of my poetry
it's there where I find
sweet sanctuary

Gotcha !

Tingly skies full of surprise oh how I love when with surmise,
	the little rascal aims his dart as if it were, poetic art !
Unpredictable seas with droplets that spray oh how the sharp rocks being where they lay,
	Affects how sea nymphs stalk and capture their prey as if it were, a play !
Restless winds pervade

Sanctuary

 
You are not broken—you are bloom, A garden grown through ash and gloom. Each petal bears the mark of grace That time nor terror could erase.
 
I built a shrine of wind and flame To house your sorrow without shame. Here, rest awhile—your truth is safe— In sanctuary’s sweet embrace.

Persephone Screams Peace

    light   d i m m e d  for  Hathor
she wants to bring in Persephone

chocolate candle dripping consciousness
creating a new silicone valley of light//sound//water//spectral multidimensional fields//

cheap caramel cinnamon wine leaks
from cracked tumbler like DMT bubbles
rose petals slowly  f
         

Sanctuary of Unseen Echoes

J-ustified
E-motional
N-ook
N-urtures
I-nner
F-orlorn
E-ffect,
R-estoring

T-ranquility
A-mid
N-ightfall

©bfa062525
Monocrostic (Birthday of Jennifer I. Tan)

The Classroom as Sanctuary

Within the circle’s quiet pulse lies a deeper truth:
when we shape our ways by kindness, trust takes root.
The classroom holds a sacred space,
where hearts find hope, and fears erase.

Not just a room with desk and board,
But a haven where the soul is restored.
A whisper heard, a glance that sees—
Each moment sown like sacred seeds.

Mistakes aren’t

Sanctuary of Seeds

Walls soft as the sky,
Seeds of courage gently sown—
Mistakes are doorways,
Voices bloom in laughter's light,
Hearts grow wide, brave, and curious.

Sanctuary of Wonder

N-ature
O-pens
R-eflections
A-mid

C-alming
U-niverse,
N-urturing
A-ll
N-otions
A-bout
N-ow

©bfa061325
Monocrostic (Birthday of Nora S. Cunanan)

Sensitive Sanctuaries

We are natural bodies outside
engaging spiritual souls inside

So also,
and with more significant integrity
in this domesticated 
desecrating 
lack of thriving home

We are timeless souls 
with spacious bodies

Sexual souls 
with sacred bodies

Sensational sages called 
to musing ordinations,
sensexual singing souls
communing sacred dancing bodies

Inside pleasure history's
reweaving healthy rites
outside passion mystery's
re-ligioning wild wealth sights

Of natural wilderness bodies
restoring spiritual sanctuary souls.

Sanctuary

The cemetery is not silent.
It hums—soft and steady—
like a lullaby remembered
just before sleep.

This is not a place of endings,
but of quiet continuance.
Here, the earth does not mourn—
it holds.
It listens.
It welcomes.

Beneath the moss and carved stone,
beneath the careful flowers and fading names,
a family has gathered—
not bound by blood,
but by something far more enduring:
the simple truth
that no

The Reason

Days, months and years to all are special,
Because the rate of occurrences are spatial,
A deliberate art of super human,
To propel celebration of event and man,
Even those that are tragically comic.

We hold high birthdays for they are annual crops,
Centurys' first day is sold in a rare kiosk ain't shops,
A new day in a decade is ten

In the liquid sanctuary of silent noons, where steam rises to the sky like an unfulfilled dream

In the liquid sanctuary of silent noons, where steam rises to the sky like an unfulfilled dream,
we meet in the dance of waters, two spirits swaying under the warm curtain,
her hands, springs of tenderness, flow over me like an ancient promise,
each touch is a verse etched on my skin, a poem written in whispers,
she commands

Codons of Contempt: A Crime Against Empathy

We came not for conquest,
but for containment—
though conquest is what happens
when containment itches beneath the skin
like sulfur spores in a sealed lung.

They had the secret.
Not gold, not weapons, not prophecy—
but language that healed.
Real language—
not poetry, not prayer,
but syntax of cells.

Their infants spoke in codons.
Their trees rustled in protein sequences.
Their dead decomposed into algorithms
that rewrote the

Sanctuary of Eternal Escape

Quietly, waves from the sea wander ashore
in a slow, perpetual motion of calm white foam
washing the sand as it tumbles back into the sea
leaving wet sand that turns pink from the rising sun
as the horizon becomes a wide red ribbon of light
Slowly, the waves' rhythm leads me on a peaceful journey
that beckons a realm of

Sanctuary

A gentle breeze composed a rhythmic ballad
That danced throughout the lavish trees and 
bountiful terrain of nature's divine savanna.

A melodic weeping from a nearby willow
Serenaded the new dawn like a morning lullaby.

Abundant blades of amber and green 
Adorned the grass, knoll
Each stalk aligned like perfect little soldiers
Standing guard over their precious mother earth.

Perched high upon

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