The red rising sun has transformed
Into puffy white striated gray clouds
Pasted onto a blue, sky-blue sky
A lovely scene touched by cool air
The partly cloudy touch says
A chance of rain upon a dry land
Others have had some showers, but
So dry here, thank God no flood
Morn's sun lifts above the clouds
A brilliance sifts through the pecans
It lights up the shimmering dew 'pon the grass
Such a pleasant time on the porch
There are coyotes and dogs barking
Birds sing of nesting completed
I wonder do they know of winter
Or of a long winter's sleep
Does this year's hatchlings have instinct
Or is their brain a blank slate
Only God knows some of the answers
Because He was the one who created
It seems like yesterday I stood by a field,
Uncle Tom's orchard nearby, abundant and fair.
The sun shone bright, the wind blew slow and yielded,
And trees danced to a tune that only nature shared.
I waited for my friends, eager to begin
Our blissful play, and let our joyous spirits spin.
But then I heard my name, and with a glowing face,
I turned, expecting friends, but found a different place.
The city's chaos reigned, with noise and disarray,
And I, a stranger, felt lost in the fray.
The world had changed, and I, with it, did stray,
And wondered if I, too, had changed with the passing day.
And so I ponder, lost, in this unfamiliar land
Tears transformed
Sorrow to joy
One moment
One word.
A name
New life
Beyond-the-tomb life
Forever.
Reality
Resurrection
When Jesus calls
By name
One word.
“Mary!”
Read John’s gospel, chapter 20.
And be transformed into a caterpillar's dream,
Shedding old skins for wings of vibrant hue.
Emerge from chrysalis, a golden beam,
A phoenix rising, born again anew.
Like clay reshaped by a potter's gentle hand,
Or ore refined in life's hot crucible.
A seed that breaks its shell to understand
The sky's expanse, once deemed impossible.
And be transformed into a prism-catching light,
Revealing colors hidden from our sight.
How Does the Soul Enter Heaven?
no gates, walls, fences
by holy light’s measures transformed
home again
creativity itself
gives, receives all
borne home again
emphryeal serenade
draws longing souls
home again where God reigns
contest How Does the Soul Enter Heaven?
sponsor Mysrptic Rose Rose
Memory has substance
for those athirst
a book never finished
whose pages reverse
Minute by minute
the moments burn
Igniting our history
whose ashes return
Memory’s sensation
beyond the five
Assuring our consciousness
we’re still alive
Formed in a vacuum
of fire and light
Stealing us inward
past seasons respite
Memory delivers
what stimulus feigns
A cloud in the desert
showering rain
Wrapping us tightly
in motion transformed
Buried within us
—keeping us warm
(Dreamsleep: January, 2023)
April 27th, 2022
Being the swings!
Forth and back, back and forth
Sailing through the air
Without a care!
Forth and back, back and forth
Transformed by the wind
Loving the wind
Forth and back, back and forth
Floating on clouds
Being the wind.
Back and forth, forth and back
Transformed without a care
I am the wind!
TRANSFORMED
to
showcase
emerging moments
encountered
&
described
to
reveal
deliberate
misinterpretations
in such
endless
presentations
this
rare
& continuing
transformation
comes
to light
& reveals
a major
display
of time
THIS IS AN OPEN(organic) FORM VERSE without grammatical symbols the ' open' relies upon 'the one breath limitation' & so inherently requires the 'reader' (reciter) to input and respond thus making the form a two way interplay and often a unique interpretation by the enigma so derived
Pain that is not transformed is transmitted
There is no gain in this—
Only frustration and it will affect many
Negativity will be your best friend
So break free and I understand that
Pain that is not transformed will be
Transmitted in the wrong direction
You are above the storm
Because your story is not finished yet!
Sing a new song
You are strong enough
Let the pain be fuel
Because your pain will
Allow you to help many!
Pain that is not transformed is transmitted
So understand the road of a particular season!
Mark Frank
Copyright 2022
I don’t believe that life
Should only be lived once before eternity
And have a single owner with grief
Run to the end with a burned-out body.
Death was never designed from the start
to be the ultimate fulfilment,
that when you die earth falls apart,
death only takes us beyond the interment.
But when the dust settles, it emerges again
A reconstruction of time and space.
Which I believe is the second coming
With greater forces of cosmic science.
The second wind from the secret origin
Rise as a king removed from memory
Previous mission details that are missing
When everything changes by continuity.
We arrived back on the converted soil
Reformed out of dust to restore order
The characters live again in our soul,
Rise for another quest about the future.
Multiple lives spent crossing the realms
Into the dark heart of hell and dominion fire.
On a quest to overthrow pilgrims
Clutching their letters of credit together.
Before, a thousand letters
didn't kill
nostalgia...
Today, just one click
and the longing dies...
And everything changes...!
A picture is transformed by adding
Colors to enhance
And music can make even
The most tired person dance.
Some seasonings can make
Plain foods into a yummy meal
And time can take a broken bone
And help to make it heal.
A ready shoulder can transform
A frown into a smile
With words of kindness and support
To go that extra mile.
When times are tough we are transformed
If kith and kin provide
The love that keeps us going
As it’s glowing deep inside.
“Is 'Mathematics...not only [a] Truth,
but [a] supreme beauty—a beauty cold
and austere, like that of sculpture [uncouth
to men for whom this concept is too bold],
without appeal to any part of our weaker nature,
without the gorgeous trappings of painting
or music, yet [is still more] sublimely pure,
and capable of a stern [un-feinting]
perfection such as only the greatest art
can show?'” So, thus geometrized Euclid
(to Russell's youthful mind and fervent heart),
and taught,—by a draped, stone caryatid
at the Library of Alexandria;
from whence “The Elements” spread without lemma!
Intention is to fact,
as water is to ice
Its truth in transformation
—the naughty and the nice
(Dreamsleep: September, 2019)
Reading for inspiration
and not for fact
The words paint a picture
in my mind
Like dominoes falling
one by one
They rise from the page
to remind
My fingers enliven
and start to draw
A vivid story
new image sublime
All colors reborn,
as each word is set free
The ink now transformed
—and divine
(Villanova Pennsylvania: June, 2016)
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