"The Edge"
Beneath the surface
freedom flows
above the watermark
secrets shared
with the sky
only the ghost
knows
conversations of a man
on the edge of life
pondering ponds
the loud silent drowned pasts
and baptismal rites
spiriting water memories
rippling an entire
Ocean
home
(LadyLabyrinth / 2021)
"Any Other Name"
https://youtu.be/-BYjEmmPoqM
"Any Other Name"/ Thomas Newman (Piano)
https://youtu.be/BixvfcN81Jw
“We are like islands in the sea,
separate on the surface
but connected in the deep.”
“Little islands are all large prisons;
one cannot look at the sea
without wishing
for the wings of a swallow.”
watermark.
1.
a faint design made in some paper during manufacture that is visible when held against the light and typically identifies the maker.
2.
a mark indicating the height to which water has risen
astral travel
luxuriously lingering
among the stars
cosmic awareness
ghostlike fantasies
nightly ventures
extending past the horizons
reaching far out galaxies
soul spiriting forward
Hearing angel music
unleashed, uncaged, uninhibited
Silver cord tethering you to body but barely
astral travel
highly recommended
during dreamstate
All violet, among, the sky color
Hot, below, walking, among the windy
I am sparkling, about the air
Extremely quiet, among the fantasy
Shuddering, beneath the blowing
Head-in-clouds, I a dreaming
Of my 'resting in peace*Father, spiriting
One snow flake at a time builds Christmas
Spiriting colored lights electric in the air
Through white swirling waves of mist on Winter
Remember ice cold pine trees bold green
Unusual bright objects ornamented all about
Branches tinseled, an ancient gold angel on top
Clear into late December
Shouting Merry Christmas freely
Whispering Happy Birthday baby Jesus
On one snow flake at a time if it pleases
COPLA DIECISIETE : This Bad Guy World
After-life: litmus of this life
Some know how to make us connive:
Make us repent?
So they console us in this life
By spiriting guilt while alive:
Pardon well spent?
Confess now to be made pure clean
Extreme unction frees you from doubts:
Who takes last step?
Bad guys all feel their wombs thus clean
Sin is sin: numbers don’t hold clouts:
Lone the last step!
© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2014
C
ar
oling
Helping
Reminiscing
Indiscriminating
Spiriting, Tinseling
Merrymaking, Amazing
Stocking
~ Leonard Napierskie
Weightless I happily lie
My face brushed by salty air's sigh
My vision filled with beautiful blue-white
Sacred, ancient, streaming light
Floating gently in pure, perfect peace
Feeling As if the feeling will never cease
My skin caressed by cool damp spray
Spiriting my worries and cares away
Listening to the melody of shifting swell
Enraptured by the blue sea's magical spell
The muted sound of nature's refrain
Filling my ears with musical champagne
Night descends,
The sky a depthless midnight blue
Interspersed with wisps of clouds,
The rain a slow patter on the dusty ground.
Magic is done on nights such as these,
That singular brand of magic that soothes the heart
And brings peace to the perturbed soul.
The beginnings of a wistfulness unbidden
Stir in your soul, enrapturing you;
Spiriting you away from worldly concerns
To those wishes of yesterday;
The dreams yet unbroken and thoughts yet unfinished.
From whence they come you do not know
These echoes of your past;
Memories unbound from earthly restraints
Bear you aloft in a veil of mist.
They alleviate the aches in your heart,
Ensnared by the shackles of life's worries.
Unfettered, it beats with renewed vigor,
The thunderous rhythm pounding through your veins
Like a team of galloping horses.
Gently back to earth you float on trailers of mist;
Reminiscences receding into the vast abyss above you.
Slowly you return to yourself,
Rejuvenated, reborn.
Some memories never fade;
And never far from your thoughts
Shall be the magic and majesty of this night.
The firing of charged cylinders
With the power of silence
On all four she sweeps
In her majesty;
The cruising royalty of glistening comfort.
Litters on the roads
Honking at each other’s throat,
The dust the sweat;
Slime of heat
Frayed tempers.
The sweeping swishing manoeuvres,
Like the sword well-drawn
Out from the scabbard;
In cool rapidity: cutting
Through the shattering chaos.
She, like the slippery eel
Floats untouched.
Spiriting away in quick succession;
The learned giving
Friendly passes.
The heavy weights
Frowning in indifference.
The enthusiasts,
Full of gas;
Holding on to their kiddie’s pants.
Flaunting her sheer grip,
She zooms past
With a knightly zip;
In a
Class of her own.
Rarely, she meets her match
Be it shyncromesh or overdrive.
And the casanova
Dribbles in fun and comfort;
For, non dare underrate the Esteem.
Oh my God the geese!
Standing in my yard
while wave after wave of them
fly over the roof of the house
from the NW to the SE.
Each wave ebbs and flows,
the geese almost exactly the same distance apart
the V is straight and they fly strong.
And the ruckus!
Talking and calling to one another.
As they meet in the big migration
they sound like
a gaggle of guys at the club,
or women catching up on the news across the fence.
You can hear the sergeant honk his orders,
his voice is deep.
A trailer squawking wait for me,
her voice screams.
They just keep coming
like the tireless waves against the shores
breaking up occasionally,
their order broken,
gliding amiss.
Sensing; ever slowly; the geese find the scent,
catching the current that holds primal instincts unlearned
spiriting them back into shape.
Now stragglers of two;
A quiet –
Then a new wave, large enough to surf.
How powerful the swoop of free spirits
beats into my awareness of self.
Spring, motivation, renewal, time to flourish, this beautiful wild earth.
The last waves,
are they the last waves,
seem tired;
pressing to reach the unseen place of ancient memories.
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