At Five,the world around seems confusing
The moves are mesmerizing, so amusing.
At Fifteen,one is full of energy and zest
One is impulsive,there's no desire for rest.
At Thirty,one feel to have a permanent bond
With a person one wants to be and is fond...
At Fifty,one loses all charm and desire
The level of spirituality, goes higher and higher.
At Seventy,one likes the company of peers
With them,he shares the memories,smiles with eyes,full of tears...
We write for our thoughts are many
And hope to turn them into art,
For either full or hollow we all have sorrow
That strikes at the strings of our heart
We read for one life is too little,
At times unfulfilling, disappointing, a bore
But in books I’m alive, in escaping I thrive,
For we make history with stories, with lore.
We laugh for our joy is so fleeting,
We cry for our pain is so vast,
But there’s ample blessing for release through expressing
And knowing that this too shall pass
We love for it’s what we were made for,
Passion was meant to be more than a drive,
Our pre-destined souls need much more to be whole,
Need each other to feel more alive.
We look at the stars to feel wonder
To look up at something that makes us feel small
Their sparkling and twinkling lead us into thinking
That we don’t really matter at all.
We pray for our hearts yearn for something,
Something that this world does not have in store,
Because that kind of love only comes from above
With a promise that we’ll receive more.
Words do not always need to be loud;
they can be quiet,
kept hidden behind the outburst of a closing door,
or the hasty shutting of a window,
or the abrupt pulling away of a chair:
all of which can be called silence.
It has its own comfort zone,
at least for me now,
filled with the lingering air,
as though the air were scented with the perfumes of Arabia,
which could never sweeten Lady Macbeth’s little hand;
yet the perfume was not silent;
it carried loudness within.
Karma returns in silence.
Although the path toward heaven or hell
never remains unheard,
it is a long, hard road until the last dawn.
It is only me, myself, and my karma,
bearing every other entity within me
and negotiating with them
through my only companion: Silence.
I need to be heard in silence,
need to be nurtured in quietness,
need to perform without being noticed,
need to remain steady in my stillness.
I wish to be trapped in silence;
it might be a celestial trap,
where the trap itself is worshipped,
because it is a religion.
IN DAILY AWARENESS OF GOD
Do not be ashamed
Of the who and whose you are:
God is mistake-free.
You’re not challenging Him,
You’re being his creation:-
You are not evil.
God does not create evil:
Live the good of you:-
Each day you grow in goodness,
Give God Thanksgiving Praise.
You’re a God servant.
Chosen to labor in love:
Serving those in need.
Reflect Simon of Cyrene:
uplifting all who need you:-
terrene is vacant as void is vibrant
sensations, discernments, objects, subjects
every palpable dissipate migrant
phenomenal world unceasing puppets
dualistic nature temporary
formless expanse evaporates desires
heart awakened transcends all memory
alert ecstatic outside every mire
empty-full experiences being
earth wind fire water ether appear frills
disappear cyclical time agreeing
raptured crystal core ageless fragrant fills
paradoxes cease, thoughtforms evanesce
heart attains nirvana, simple success
__________________________________
Placed 7th : Premier Contest
May 26 : Sponsor : Unseeking Seeker
Halo, have you been found?
May your light cast on down.
Reflected back, a fractured shine-
We've found a piece of missing time.
Watching past versions fade-
Heavy burdens absence weighed.
Return even in deep silence-
A fate we knew would bind us.
You're half my eager soul
Treading this hallowed path.
From once sacred black rose-
Eyes now locked as if in trance.
A newly found sense of life-
Fallen star- shining bright.
The quiver of your lips
Forever felt between us.
For heartache lessons when-
Your presence eases pain.
We always sought our better half-
Ending peace where we began.
In a world where many hearts break in silent pain,
I knew a boy untouched by sorrow or rain.
Born into wealth where wishes arrived before thought,
Double the dreams were always what he got.
Yet he whispered to God, “Give me chaos, give me despair,”
Knocking on heaven’s door with an unusual prayer.
But nothing ever changed, no darkness came through,
So he believed the skies were empty—no God he knew.
At twenty, life shattered—his world fell apart,
Riches faded to silence, echoing deep in his heart.
Yet instead of tears, he smiled and said, “Thank you,”
For in losing everything, his faith finally grew.
For money brings moments, a flicker of light,
But peace and belief can rewrite your whole life. ?
Is this the world that deserves our softest light?
Is this how we get on with a little fight?
We know we’re not in control
We pull through whatever may arise or fall
But despite convalescing from an affliction
Banefully, we seem diagnosed with manipulation
Either you’re blind or refusing to see
Escaping the decaying reality
Countering every dire theory—
Consciously—with a dreamy philosophy
Not for the sake of sweet innocence
Nor for ignorance’s safe pretense
But for seizing the right to live
Because we ought to find grace in what we receive
To drink from the sacred cup of existence—
To taste salvation without a tang of grievance
So I keep asking with a tainted insight…
Is this really the world I once believed to have a hidden light?
—Nicola An
It was a mistake
for me to bring Ben.
Eleven-year-old boys
and birds don’t go well
together.
I took two pairs
of binoculars
in the hopes that he
would bother to look
in a pair.
The sky was tumbling
it’s full gray clouds
in a frantic tussle
over our little wet
heads and peering eyes
that scoured the trees
for anything singing.
“There is no bid
fallout!” Ben complained
with his arms pulled
inside his tee shirt sleeves.
He looked cold
and cranky.
“Did you hear the goldfinch?”
“They all sound the same.
Can we go home now?
The same birds are in
our backyard.”
The rain dripped
unevenly off
the thousand petals
of a dogwood tree.
Is anyone other than me
seeing what I see
right now?
gong is struck once twice thrice
river ripples response
sunrise fading slowly
crown opens in petals
face lifts to sprinkling light
_______________________
Contest : Feeling That Light : Standard Contest
Sponsor : Nette Onclaud
First Placing : Feb 26
I am grateful for all the wonderfully different religions people practice…
for the kind and loving person their Gods and their faith
help them to be…
And I’m grateful knowing there are many roads
That lead to kindness,
inner peace…
and spirituality.
I feel powerful when birds fly away,
I approach– they erupt!
My agency clear on display,
To my illusive control,
I’m amused they obey,
It’s time’s dualistic dance,
of predator and prey,
Self awakens through others,
All becomes One, as we play,
I’m imprinting the present,
When I walk out of my way,
A flock by emergence,
Patterns form, never to stay,
Co-creating a moment,
Spikes spice into my day,
I feel so powerful,
When birds fly away.
They judged my body
like it was evidence.
Like it was proof
I was less than.
They never asked
what this body survived.
What this spirit carried.
What this mother endured
while still showing up
every damn day.
I bled in silence
and called it strength.
I prayed with shaking hands.
I begged God
to make me smaller,
so I would be easier to love.
That’s the kind of damage
the world does
when it teaches a woman
her worth
lives in her appearance.
But I am not built
by their opinions.
I am built
by survival.
By prayer.
By ancestors
who did not break
so I could doubt myself.
There is something holy
about a woman
who has been through hell
and still chooses softness.
There is something dangerous
about a woman
who finally knows her worth.
If you could not love me
when I was tired,
triggered,
healing,
still learning how to breathe
you do not deserve
the power
I am becoming.
You do not get
to dishonor the storm
and then expect
to inherit the peace.
I was sacred
when I was breaking.
I was sacred
when I was doubting.
I was sacred
before I ever believed it.
And now that I do
I am no longer asking
to be seen.
{Poet’s Note : Fourth Poem of Set of 5 SPOKEN WORD poems written in SAPPHIC STANZAS }
____________________
Life offers to support, first open to Love’s thorns
Sun not changeable, hands to give of own horns
centre in flesh where patience and Spirit mingle
Heart is where they jingle
World our mirror, transparency it holds bold
magical meanings with musical moments emit
highest are those whose existence is not known
hoist ideals beauty sown
We will say, Sisters! we ourselves have achieved
opalescent Sacred Sun wants figures of eight
firmly in lap of luxury, the bait
to lament no more
Brothers no longer hold score, treasure inside
entire planet home, Lesbos to Egypt, no hide
see crystal clear with fine papyrus and ink
so very dear, cheer
Universal power arranges spacious
awareness without thoughts jumbled enchanting
awe at abundant good fortune Heart opened receptive we sing
At wedding feasts nothing further needs adding
Femmes ! to moment sway not nay, syrtos in hay
stepping back to allow for Spirit’s addition
groom in white and black
Union is You _________>
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
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