Now!
kiss me
when the sun
sleeps under cover
of evening hills. Where
soft sheets shroud our sight,
yet letting our feelings softly in.
Within our blanket bivouac, we are
buffered from the bustling world. Trusting
only touch to slip through the covering cloth,
silencing lying eyes. Eyes surrender gladly, leaving
fingers to trace forgotten pathways. Our skin remembers
what hasty eyes brushed aside in passing. Forgotten now are
smiles, frowns, and doubts once misread by sight. Kiss me now -
while the sun sleeps beneath our veiled skies. Kiss me through cloth-
to feel what eyes forget, forgo, let go, without the joyous sense of touch.
Sans the sense of touch, we will feel not bliss,
which transforms as peace in the oneness field
but since we are here, Divine Mother’s kiss
is joy bestowed by power God does wield,
so when ego drops off and there’s no shield,
we feel on earth as it is in heaven,
living light shining in chakras seven.
I want to give thanks to skin
For keeping all my innards in
For being a home for my hair
Without it I’d leak everywhere.
I never thought about it much
But skin gives me the sense of touch
Yet it can make me a bit b*tchy
Especially when it gets itchy.
Oh and before I forget
I need my skin so I can sweat
And without that I’d overheat
Leaving a result that’s far from neat.
It’s stuck with me all my life
Through the good times and the strife
So I give thanks to my skin
For keeping all my innards in.
What good comes from these words you speak to me?
Your intentions pierce my heart and
Soil my soul.
What truth is told by our journey?
Too many years spent so far from my home.
The abnegation of my worth is the only thing
That keeps me here in your arms.
As I battle between loyalty and self exploration
I battle to find my fate.
Stripped of my sense of touch and sight
I with one swift leap
Fall perfectly
Into the puzzle that is my life.
Skulls And Thorns
The darkness is cold.
Hold your hand and be bold.
Take me with you.
Sense of touch wherever you go.
From the grave to the sky.
Together, I feel alive.
You are beyond elegant.
Stand with you in darkness.
Watch the candle lights dance.
You are my match.
Light the sky on fire.
You're the one I desire.
You are mesmerizing.
Fly past the horizon.
A place with many dark shades.
Our shadows follow us on the way.
The night is ours.
I give you purple flowers.
We are creatures of the night.
Skulls and Thorns, a poem, live or die.
This is our path.
Strange love that will last.
We creep into the unknown.
Stand side by side facing the red sun.
It is to know without opening the eyes,
it is to feel without the sense of touch,
it is to understand tranquility of the soul,
and absorb the meaning of eternal presence!
a disturbed mind flutters in the wind of change,
the heart races past the galloping time,
the soul is forgotten in pursuit of pleasure,
mind flips from lost past to unseen future,
the truth is still. Very still. unaffected by time.
It is the anchor of eternity, beyond all known,
for movement is a delusion of lost minds,
in that truth is the vision of a gentle glow,
the glow of absolute knowledge,
that is felt and experienced by the mind,
with eyes closed in deep meditation.
heart is in rhythm with vibrations of creation,
it beats to show it is a function of the body,
it is gentle to symbolise the conquest of life,
Life that had been turbulent with a rowing eye,
but now with eyes closed the mind watches,
and gentleness of heart is breath of existence,
existence of the absolute reality, within which,
is the golden glow of eternal truth.
Time is not here with me.
No time, no sense of touch.
But emotions-
I know there are emotions!
And the emotions are everywhere.
As if I am an empath, but somehow also stoic and uncaring.
It’s just halos instead of faces.
I’m getting my wish, in a way.
I’m not surrounded by strangers.
But rather-
Skulls so that all I see are bones…
But the bones are smiling but empty.
I am the only one here who is flesh, and flesh is all I am…
The bones are people too, I have to remember.
The people who are bones are my family.
All around me.
But it hurts to see them.
Maybe I’m not flesh, because flesh can feel.
As if I am a spirit, having to watch them mourning.
And so I watch,
Until I fall asleep.
Falling asleep…
As if I am still living.
Nothing's more private than touch;
other senses can't match it.
Without touch's tactile contact,
we'd all miss out on so much.
I bask in the sensation
of sunbeams stroking my skin.
Touch links me to Nature; it's
my tether to creation.
My cat's fur has a soft feel,
luxuriously silky.
And I enjoy petting it,
as her blissful purrs reveal.
When the wind tussles my hair,
I feel its playful hijinks.
And should a fly land on me,
my sense of touch pinpoints where.
Feeling my grandson wiggle
is a joyous sensation.
I love to tickle his feet
and make his belly jiggle.
My sense of touch lets me feel
the reality of life.
Exploring my surroundings,
touch defines what is real.
When everything about me still thrives,
And everything is a sight for sore eyes,
I'm thankful for my sense of SIGHT.
When noise abounds with the hearing of sounds,
because my eardrums are enough to Astone,
I'm grateful for my sense of HEARING.
When never taking for granted a savory taste,
And as Jesus said, let nothing go to waste,
I'm thankful for my sense of TASTE.
When my bride is baking with sweet working labor,
And overwhelming me with smells of succulent flavors,
I'm grateful for my sense of SMELL.
I bow my knees and heart when I feel that loving touch,
And when I realize that I have been blessed with so much,
I'm thankful for my sense of TOUCH.
082023PS
My country's tears are falling like rain.
She is hurting, and great is her pain.
Deep in the portals of her heart,
Desperately, she is crying.
She is going BLIND
And has listened to lying.
She is losing her ability to HEAR,
And is filled with fear.
She has lost so much,
Even her sense of TOUCH.
Her halls of academia and governance
Are becoming meaningless and senseless.
Her TASTE buds for exceptionalism are dying.
Her FRAGRANCE of inspiration is fading,
And her influence is slowly waning.
Yes, she is crying,
But too few even care
And from afar, they stare.
Millions have eaten at her table,
But presently, too few adorn her label.
Please, do my country the greatest favor today.
Hold her, squeeze her tight, and cease not to pray.
050123PSCtest. Brian Strand. A BRIAN STRAND PREMIERE no 1213
She is going blind
and has listened to lying.
She cannot hear,
and is filled with fear.
She has lost so much,
even her sense of touch.
050123PSCtest. Bite Size Contest no. 62
Line Gauthier
No sense of smell
No sense of touch
Oh, how I miss that sense so much
I cannot hear the words you say
In your inimitable way
I cannot taste your lips on mine
The way your arms around me entwine
I cannot smell the warmth of you
And cuddle like we used to do
BUT
I have vivid dreams at night
Dreams that fill me with delight
Memories come flooding in
And a new life for us begins again
The nighttime for us turns into day,
Where you and I can laugh and play,
A place where we can embrace
And look into each other's eyes and face
With love so pure
We can endure
The daylight hours,
Until my life on Earth is through
And my dream turns into reality with you.
The world of sight is when taken
Away, let of vision waken,
Let world of sound sharply shaken.
Way laid gets when my wander lust,
Let me hear time’s footsteps in dust,
Dawn’s birds wake me with song-filled burst.
Feel of colours behind eyelids,
Faithfull’s faith passed on prayer beads,
Let me see heart of golden deeds.
If flower colours get frozen
If world of butterflies has gone,
Fine, let me world of fragrance own.
If not, take all this away, much
As ye like, just keep sense of touch,
Let me feel the world just as such.
___________________________________
Musings |07.04.2022| Terza Rima
Poet’s note: As we know, glaucoma as a silent ailment takes away one’s vision gradually over passing years. First the peripheral vision gets narrower, ultimately to get reduced to a tunnel vision, and even that is lost one day. Of late I have been thinking of this eventuality in my life. But then the heart takes over from the head and says, never mind, there is that whole world beyond sight, a lot that we look at and still fail to see— the subject matter of this piece.
Sense of touch enables soul’s aliveness
Myriad forms thrive within space-time
Each having roots in That Oneness
God in-dwells us all, as love sublime
He speaks to us as voice of conscience
In the void of stillness, we hark His chime
All souls are born free as pristine innocence
Purity soiled by instinctive fear and desire
Shrouding innate divine luminescence
Oh hermit, if we wish to rise higher ~
Consign ego to the funeral pyre
05-May-2022
floundering about in the darkness
we ceased striving and struggling
proceeding in pristinity of silence
melding with the environ rustling
heightening our sense of touch
amplified by innate childlike delight
grazing in and within and upon
space time continuum enveloping us
both within and without expansive
vibrational omnipresence encasing
void and manifestation in the tease
shifting roles attuned to outpouring
renewing within our spiritual heart
birthing dynamic stillness beauteous
29-March-2021
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