Short Mystics Poems

witches, warlocks, soothsayers and prophets
mystics, psychics and angels
I kind of love them all...

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Trust the truthful Gods .
,though against the odds
they fought fearful death
for modest man's breath
to rebreath of life
in green paradise;
to mystics granted
in virtue planted....

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Human beings are natural mystics.
And irrational characteristics
often lead us astray,
keeping logic at bay.
Satan tempts us with facts and statistics....

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Do Remember Many Mystics

We always remember many mystics;
All hit wall when they went ballistics;
Ounce by ounce,
Would bounce,
Writing a poem that in mind sticks.

Jim Horn

That has to be the weirdest poem
that I have ever written before....

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they would have you believe
you were too sacred
to look under well-settled rocks
pledging allegiance
on streets like some hobos
but I'm putting my faith
in sages and mystics
discussing afflictions
burying little dead birds
when they come along...

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Mundane matters motley
Muddy minds mostly
Melding, moulding, miring
Mindlessly meandering

Meek moribund musing
Mindfulness missing
Mystics mentalism mimic
Marring meditation’s magic

30-June-2022

Begin with a letter Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Angela Tune...

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Is it beauty 
In  the air of,
Celestial forms;
Invading the mind.

Wonder mystics 
Of  this ancient land,
Or an alien’s run
Into Femina.

I know men
Are bold,
Deadlier than
A serpent’s hiss.

And Emmanuelle though
She May be,
For sure
Sari’s do not hiss....

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I stare back from the last horizon,
  and scientists look bemused

Theologians prey among themselves,
  mystics stay confused

Once through the light Divining
  no beginnings or their ends

All truth transcending within itself
  —as time and space descend

(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2019)...

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My mind 
as for it consciousness my heart
 thinks joyous thinks confident
 heart preference being distanced variance

Old heart 
thinking so 
righteousness being 
disputes will bring maybe nulled
impending mystics models heart pumps now rules 

consciousness my heart

6/14/21
Written by James Edward Lee Sr © 2021...

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Listen to poem:

Anagogic Anthology of Unsustain Youth
David J Walker

My magic mirror 
Magnifies all that defies 
Common logic
Where I see things 
Not to be believed
Conceived in 
the anthology of the
Mystics mess left in
Anagogic faith
And recognize vague realities  
Of tragic hues of advancing age
And the dim views 
Of unsustained youth...

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Midnight queen with your gleaming eyes
Obvious star person with wings that rise
We see you do what you do, you are our prize.
Mystics watching your antics in the evening skies

Midnight queen you are pure and true.
Giving us dreams when dreams are due.
Fancy in ways that wiggle, waggle, giggle and woo.
I wonder about you, midnight queen, I truly do....

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Clock tick I hear loud
I open my mouth wide, an
yawn
closes his eye lids.

Lunch at a party,
later open book in hand,
left
book and mouth open.

Long Travel  in flight
all is quiet, some shoulders
have 
turned into pillows.

TV ON with loud 
news, recurring sound comes from
a
seat, remote on floor.



3-April-2016
MYSTICS SPLIT HAIKUS - Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Mystic Rose...

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Mystics Split Haikus
Sponsor: Mystic Rose


Your deep horizon
fades into morning glory
shades
OF RAVISHING HUES

My deep horizon
pigments glowing in the breeze
they
SWAY IN AZURE SKIES

Our deep horizon
enchanted pure complexion
we
GLEAM INTO HEAVEN


Syllable Count: 5-7-1-5
Syllables checked at www.howmanysyllables.com
I used three strings

Date Written: March 25, 2016...

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I Watched TV last night

a musical special--

not one
of the young singers
had taken time
to learn proper breathing,

to smoothly exhale vowels

crimp the consonants

unlike even the basic cable guy
executing wire

relieved at least
they are not physicians
at my throat--

pools of blood
wail the mystics
bemoaning the letting

intimately knowing
our relationship
to Spirit Divine....

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Escaping the prose…
I hid in the verse

My mind to compose,
instead of converse

Defying description,
I sang through the notes

And placed my inscriptions
in lyrical rote

I chose to hear music
over reasons again

To dine with the mystics,
where forever begins

And when forcing my pen
back to stories untold

The Muse starts to darken
—threatening Kobolds

(Villanova Pennsylvania: December, 2016)...

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lavender florets
sway their hems to a gold wind...
as
queen bee jiggles


aisle of lush gardens 
invite morn's jaybirds on flight...
coo
cooing sweet tunes


dew bathes newborn plants
evergreen their christened ribs...
from
heaven's blessings


such bright assemblage
displays lush April's glory
when 
spring thrills charmed hearts




MYSTICS SPLIT HAIKUS Contest
Sponsor: Mystic Rose
4/10/2016...

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Escaping the prose,
  I hid in the verse

My mind to compose,
  instead of converse

Defying description,
  I sang through the notes

And placed my inscriptions,
in lyrical rote

I chose to hear music,
  over reasons again

To dine with the mystics,
  where forever begins

And when forcing my pen,
  back to stories untold

The Muse starts to darken,
—threatening Kobold

(Villanova Pennsylvania: December, 2016)...

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The missive sealed and now en route
will never settle their dispute;
to others it may seem minute,
it leaves us cold and destitute.

As they congeal in dark collusion,
others flee in stark confusion,
like poppies hide behind delusion,
the mystics kneel in tense seclusion.

The forests know they will endure,
the mountains, also, rest assured,
the waters of the Earth run pure,
Mankind is the non sequitur.


©Danielle White...

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Standing ‘neath the spotlights
Burning white and blue
Calling on the muses
For something real and true

The theater is a sanctuary
A hallowed, fertile ground
Where humans mix with mystics
And the ancient wise abound

The poet, and the prophet
The shaman, and the priest
Displaying all the archetypes
From the greatest to the least

We’ll never tire of stories
For that is what we are
The theater is a universe
And we its blemished stars...

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Somewhere something has my eyes
now everything is gray,hard,decayed
Those portraits of mystics and fantasy have been stabbed through and painted black

My sense of wonder...flaccid
My will....abused, embarrassed

Dark
Dank
Blank
Despair

A post 90s cliche

I could sleep a thousand sleeps and never wake to regret yesterday or tomorrow lost

I am the frost on your bleak winter window

cliche
cliche
cliche
cliche
cliche
cliche
blah...

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The earth cracked in Nepal,
  with fire and shame

And thousands lay dead,
  in the mountains and plains

Her crust was ripped open,
  a heart now exposed

And lives were reclaimed,
  from a heaven deposed 

The story for mystics,
  a legend say some

As nature demanded,
  for things that we’d done

Her climate infected,
  and sky ringed in black

Our future as payment,
—with no turning back

(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2015)...

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Where the sunlight will stop
Beneath the teal waters
I only see reflection
From under my dripping roof
Spinning through the currents
I fill my lungs with foreign habitat
Concealed in my cocoon of corals
Safe from a predator
Just trying to make a living
Further to drop 
Through clear backdrops
To the next stage if being
Down and down
Deep in the black
Conciousness will pass
Without a second glance
I sink in the mystics
And hide from the shores...

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Immersed in doctrine from the very start 
I never stood a chance to realize 
that souls offtimes begin with works of art  
God's truth opaque instills, demystifies 
Sapient Mystics such as I can't comply 

lifted up to the sky those amber eyes 
of mine dilate, with questions giving rise 
a sequence of pure grace with love agape 
Buddhist velathums of sojournic plies    
my soulful essence finally, takes shape.    

January 9, 2020...

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time is not idle
     no waste to its preciousness
     lest
     dreams are ever lost


     hours lost to sorrow
     are not retrieved from kindness
     but
     from memories held


     love, not known by some
     until lost, gone forever 
     know
     tears are silent words


     kindness will not be
     a sign of glaring weakness
     for 
     strength bows to meekness


     Mystics Split Haikus Contest By Mystic Rose 03/26/2016...

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Jan, Mystic and Casarah
Been letting it rip
The smell woke the poor dog
From his afternoon kip

Looking very guilty he smelt his bott
Looked at me as much to say
Wasn't me  dropped that lot
Must have been you, smell won't go away

I blamed the drains looking as innocent as I could
Was those fresh plums from Cosco I ate too many
Better stay near the bathroom I think I should.
Cos I got many farts rumbling in my tummy



The continuous story of Mystics Fart...

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