Short Prophesies Poems

the prophesies the one
believing in one
i am the one
i am the line
there is only one...

Read More

promises and prophesies
are in timeless time fulfilled
in as they take time to manifest
after being created in the ethereal

all that that has been set into motion
is beheld by us in childlike surprise 
although eye of wisdom knows
the manner of unfoldment 

11-February-2023...

Read More

I’ve been here before in a
semblance of remembrance of
dutiful belongings for things
said, done, delivered, denied 
truthed and lied——-glistening 
in heart hopes of a rapturous 
mind meld change to bliss
entities candid prophesies charged on a
Poised path to delightenment aplenty...

Read More

Silver'd wisps, diaphanous, floating 'neath the ether, 
flying high like prophesies from God.                                         
Black forbidding masses rumble out their warning,
jagged bolts of lightning rend the air.
Innocuous or deadly, oft they're in disguise, 
it would behoove us all to heed the skies....

Read More

If we believe in free will,
Why then do we believe that all prophesies must come true,
Might some prophesies actually be warnings, 
We have not heeded, in time to prevent many more mourning's.

Something to think about,
Before we shout,
Kill, kill, kill,
Leaving us all,
With a bill,
That will make us ill, ill ill....

Read More

Silvered wisps, 
diaphanous, floating 'neath 
the ether, flying high like 
prophesies from God.                                         

Black forbidding masses
rumbling out their message,
jagged bolts of lightning 
rend the air.

Innocuous or deadly, 
oft they're in disguise;
it would behoove us all 
to heed the skies....

Read More

Silver'd whisps, 
diaphanous, floating 'neath 
the ether, flying high like 
prophesies from God.                                         

Black forbidding masses
rumbling out their message,
jagged bolts of lightning 
rend the air.

Innocuous or deadly, 
oft they're in disguise;
it would behoove us all 
to heed the skies....

Read More

Silver'd whisps, 
diaphanous, floating 'neath 
the ether, flying high like 
prophesies from God.                                         

Black forbidding masses
rumbling out their message,
jagged bolts of lightning 
rend the air.

Innocuous or deadly, 
oft they're in disguise, 
so it would behoove us all 
to heed the skies....

Read More

moist cinnamon bark

infused fragrance levitates -

monsoon descends time


rice fields lie flooded

draft windswept change into roots -

rise to the challenge


tea leaves take shelter

swell burgeoning impatience -

cusp spring’s prophesies


seasons scent chances

tease taste bud’s fluid advance -

crow scares wet footing


22th May 2020...

Read More

Tell me, O Priestess, your prophesies -
The things that are to be.
The wars, the death and the disease
Tell all of it to me.

The wisdom of the sages -
Their words crash against my ears
A cacophony of Ages -
Patriarchal all these years.

Throw me, O Priestess, your pearls -
The rays of light that yet may gleam -
The life those rays will then unfurl;
Take me to different dream....

Read More

My hands are empty
My pockets bare
Yet my heart is overflowing

It’s filled with love
To always share
It remains forever growing

No clothes of silk
Nor gold adorned
Is needed for my purse

Follow prophesies
Just as warned
To satisfy my thirst

As word be spread
Upon the land
Of the truth, the saving light

With head held high
And outward hands
I await the true birthright...

Read More

My hands are empty
My pockets bare
Yet my heart is overflowing

It’s filled with love
To always share
It remains forever growing

No clothes of silk
Nor gold adorned
Is needed for my purse

Follow prophesies
Just as warned
To satisfy my thirst

As word be spread
Upon the land
Of the truth, the saving light

With head held high
And outward hands
I await the true birthright...

Read More

Dull reflections in a vibrating shallow,
vibrant greens glow against neutral grey.
I find shelter to feign calm stillness,
the trees roar their dissent.
“come to me prophesies, come all foreboding, come
sprits and visions.”
Yet the mused well-spring is hollow,
a confused pubescent male in the Rites of May.
Branches convulse and mutter, roots in silence. 
The May Pole is entwined with the serpent.
Water in, Blood out, comes all life from
fissures and incisions....

Read More