Shall I record every WORD
Dreams given in the night
Should I seek confirmation
From those who don't know the Light
Should I show prophecy
And attest to the TRUTH
Open books of warning
I've given since my youth
Will Kings and kingdoms
Rise up and claim allegiance
Approving of WISDOM
They act out in appalling grievance
.....against all evil
That is of Spirit is Spirit
No flesh can clothe LOVE
The purity of His heart
Cannot align with anything that matter is made of
The eternal record is finished
Recorded on the Spirit of man
When the soul arrives in the space
The resonance reveals the plan
Unchangeable, undiminished
The resilience rings forth His glory
What a privilege to be
A single WORD in the everlasting story
....grace has walked us through
Written by Trudy Schrader on 09-23-2026
PERCEVING SENSITIVITY
expressed
in
effective
nuanced
promising
panoramics
articulating
uncounted
the
undiminished
steadfast
inexplicable
&
obscure
within
awoken
conscience
feelings
in
character
overshadowed
with
difficulties
of
vital
yet
anonymous
existence
The way he’s come seems now so long and winding
Tramping through the rugged hills of time
His footfalls, once so full of purpose, begin to falter
As if the destination is now further off
And the path no longer for the finding.
His will to walk is undiminished
(Please God let that be true)
The will to strive, to climb, to go the umpteenth second mile
The will to gather other pilgrims too.
But this dark place is littered with conflicting signposts
With other walkers passing by too sure
“This is the path and this the way to walk”
“This is the marching song to sing and this the way to talk”
As striding by on different paths they leave his questioning unfinished.
The questions dance inside his head, whilst answers walk with leaden feet
That stumble slowly to the place where ask and answer meet.
Then meeting, change to swifter,
Spin-blurred dancing feet
That turn and mock his efforts to be sure
And shriek instead to trust
And thus to know far more.
Yet in it all he knows
Beyond the fog
The sun still shines
The Son still reigns
As
Head down
Stumbling
Sometimes falling
Wondering
Step-by-step
By step
He makes his way to higher ground.
“He attains to the supreme Self, who is eternal, pure, fearless, formless, and supportless, who is without body, without desire, beyond the pairs of opposites, free from illusion and of undiminished power.”
The breath of God animates inert dust
which then in turn develops an ego,
which distanced from source engages in lust,
till reaching exhaustion, cravings let’s go.
Knowing we’re spirit, not this body-mind,
when with the throb of bliss beats we concur,
purifying heart, once divine aligned,
polarities merge and boundaries blur.
Exiting space time, we see in clear sight,
that we have been to by the scriptures lied,
for who in truth we are, is living light,
which we mark as the day delusion died.
Made in God’s image, we are as is He ~
Once our ego dies, we are truly free
O Sponsor! My Sponsor! Our marathon’s undiminished
The number 1 rule is satisfied, for all of us have finished!
The rankings are clear, the comments sincere—a poets’ celebration,
While eyes peruse the final list, the roster of champions!
But O fatigue! fatigue! fatigue!
27 contests have taken their toll
In welcome repose our Sponsor chose
Three years' rest ere the next marathon roll
In the hush between ticking seconds,
I found no time—
only the curve of light,
bending where all thought dissolves.
Mass lost its anchor; gravity forgot its pull.
Space trembled,
soft as silk under unseen magic fingers.
Equations wept for meaning soft in the dark,
their symbols,
reaching for warmth like stars unborn.
I dreamed of clocks that breathe, of suns at rest—
their fire untethered, their hearts without mass.
In that realm, where the apple fell up.
the moon danced without orbit or chain.
Light was in love, undiminished by form,
and I—observer and dream alike—
watched infinity fold itself into silence,
Hearing a child’s mind closed all alone.
autumn lingers unfinished
though cold drops november
rain and waits undiminished
'til native summer sun remembers
what could unmake
when days full ache
bloom autumn colors
quick winter all borders
golds greens yellows
reds purples browns
a rusted rainbow frowns
as leaves scoot over meadows
fallen from mountain forest
after fields have given harvest
a father of one teaches his son.
chase catching leaves for fun
they twist turn swivel pirouette
lunge leap slide slice 'til earth is whet
while boy staggers with arms stretched
missing while dad knows misdirect fetched
two and three leaves while son fustrated
cries to quit but egged on infuriated
at last by chance or by experience
claps and traps one in victory dance
Copyright © Cornelius Brantley | Year Posted 2024
Telemachus
Ask Telemachus!
Penelope is aware of your grief and glow,
Go on, don't feel low
You are her beach
Fly high and across every breach.
Ask him:
She lived with you in Ithaca
Wanna see you in Makka
Where there is a rift
Pure air always lifts
The sorrow of uncertain lot
And you never caught in the fret and fever of any sought.
Ask him,
She brought up thee
And don't be a flee
Swing like eucalyptus in the air
Be rare and don't fear.
Ask him
You are the bright ray
An undiminished sway
Go and grip the intangible way
Come and click don't delay.
Ask him:
You are the light
Glow and flow
And don't feel low
The world is full of foe.
autumn lingers unfinished
though cold drops november
rain and waits undiminished
'til native summer sun remembers
what could unmake
when days full ache
bloom autumn colors
quick winter all borders
golds greens yellows
reds purples browns
a rusted rainbow frowns
as leaves scoot over meadows
fallen from mountain forest
after fields have given harvest
a father of one teaches his son.
chase catching leaves for fun
they twist turn swivel pirouette
lunge leap slide slice 'til earth is whet
while boy staggers with arms stretched
missing while dad knows misdirect fetched
two and three leaves while son fustrated
cries to quit but egged on infuriated
at last by chance or by experience
claps and traps one in victory dance
unreciprocated and even unrecognised
it mattered not for the beautiful rose
as it exuded a sublime fragrance
undiminished till it’s dying breath
standing thus erect till the very end
mourning not the petals fickle fate shed
The Blazer’s Put Away
The blazer’s put away now,
The medals in their drawer;
The polished shoes and formal tie
Back where they were before.
Commemorations over,
Reunions all finished;
Stories spun, marching done,
Old friendships undiminished.
Bands no longer play now,
Applauding crowds have gone.
But every day, each in their way,
Remembering goes on.
body decays
yet lust for life
is undiminished
this innate vibrance
signals the existence
of our eternal presence
thus if we are that
we are not this form
which is but an interface
energising silence
with bliss magnetism
our identity disappears
feeling not thinking
awareness unblinking
truth of our core is known
we are the light
that lights all lights
on earth for a sojourn
all that is manifest
is held by space-time
a bubble in realm dual
our eternal light
its renewal continual
dwells in the heart of God
On one of the myriad bays
along the Maine coast. Keep the holocaust
at bay I said to Dave because
you’ll spend all day gathering
2,000 calories and still be miserable hungry.
An undiminished population of humans is risible.
Black spruce and balsam fir,
you can eat the inner bark
in a starvation emergency.
There’s plenty of Cornus—bunchberry—
each orange pith around the stone
worth maybe a quarter calorie.
Lots of sarsparilla but the fruits
not out yet and to date I have not
savored one. Let’s see—dandelion
of course and huckleberry but
the most important source of sustenance
would be seaweed.
Learn your mushrooms! for the protein.
Accept the situation
come the apocalypse.
I struggle against my insignificance
but it would be better to struggle
against my ignorance.
Less effortlessness, more fishermanliness.
That’s the lesson of this Maine vacation
there’s a lot you can eat when in need—
the hips of roses and the pips of grasses.
And an endless supply of seaweed—
bladderwrack, dulse, kelp and thin green lettuce.
I am a poet,
But you'd never know it.
I speak with words of no import,
No sparkling or witty retort.
I am ordinary at best,
Not many are impressed.
Invisible at times I feel,
Yet I know that I am real.
But put a pen in my hand,
And my muse takes command,
Sending words like a flood,
To flow in ink, as though blood.
Magically words appear on blank page,
Lyrical, rhythmic to engage,
Words of spiritual reflection,
Words of wit and introspection.
And when my muse has had her fill,
Of creativity's free will,
I look down at what is finished,
My amazement undiminished.
Yes, I am a poet.
To look at me you'd not know it,
But read my written words and you'll see,
A creative cache of poetry.
we push and pull
without striving
in tranquil calm
enjoying the game
till the scorpion stings
then anguish binds
dragging us down
into darkness
until we rebound
restoring equanimity
but in the intervening space
between delusion and illumination
the impressions imbibed
if viewed with nonchalance
ends the purpose of earth life
since awareness is undiminished
beholding itself in each wave
as life ebbs and flows
17-March-2023
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