~ When the sounds of the world fall silent ...
my soul leads to a secluded place, with an ethereal tranquility ~ quote by poet
The inner dream-weaver
with charismatic allure
Nymphaea lotus- an ornamental plant
that transcends its own pristine beauty
Listen to the bees buzzing around the petals
Tranquility, relaxation, and mindfulness
Climbing a mountain at sunrise
Mental purity free from suffering
A daily dose of nature
framed with mountain bluebirds
Stillness of the unobstructed view,
vegetation and horizon
Brings a calmer state of mind
Mother Earth provides benefits
such as powerful "kick" of tranquility
Wandering Particles,
Wandering in amazement,
At everything I see.
Nature, She holds such beauty,
Even the bark of the tree,
Are the same particles in you and me.
They go on living and breathing,
Always giving and receiving,
Outstretched arms reaching,
Slowly growing to the sky.
As the sun rays are beaming,
The green canopy,
Absorbing the energy.
Each leaf holds a meaning,
Holding dew of the morning.
Homes for the birds swarming.
The sturdy limbs resembling veins,
Holding it's lifeblood within,
Dancing with the winds.
Such a sweet melody,
As the birds chime timely.
Beginning a symphony,
Carrying a sweet epiphany,
Life in all its complexity.
Is a perfect balance,
Unobstructed and free.
Living in harmony,
Like the particles in me.
Keeping me healthy,
In love at peace.
Feel the wonders of nature,
You can sense the release,
let your mind feel at ease,
As you wander,
With me,
Aimlessly,
Into possibility.
I was driving to my grannies country home after the end of a dinner invite with friends in town, about 40 miles away.
There was news of the oddity prior to my first visual contact, that entertained my youthful glassless eyes for the near full length of this drive and that thing be an unobstructed view.
I'm talking about Comet Kohoutek, of 1973. Admittedly, the spectacle looked like a toy when the tail drops a bit then ups a bit.
The comet appeared blunted, like some dream, or like a string on a kite but cut severely short.
On the opposite end, being my left-side drivers window, directly is the moon over the ocean, and the comet more left of my driver's window, heading towards town that I had just left.
The moon fronts my drivers window, the comet in my rear window, wondered with that comet out there--where is everybody?
Ah, that's the answer, it's driving out to the country, with the length of a beach one side, the moon in front, comet rear, and that is why nobody's here.
... and not because it's two in the morning.
Hindsight gives you an unobstructed view:
unveiling what was once invisible,
hidden truths are now rendered visible.
You cannot change your past: only review
it, for it's not something you can undo:
like a spent coin, it's not divisible.
Your heart has been broken too many times:
stop chasing shadows; focus on the now
and move on; you'll get over this somehow.
Today, you can't tell the wind from the chimes
as tears trickle down, anxiety climbs:
and you squander what strength hope will allow.
But tomorrow offers a brand new day;
another chance for you to find your way.
.
Observe. Do not analyze.
Abandon all temptations
without analysis Observe.
Observe sans conclusion.
No arriving at conclusions
Never stop at a conclusion.
Observation, it is perennial.
If any conclusion is drawn,
Accept not the concluded
Conclusion, it is a process.
Observe the process clearly.
Dare reject all conclusions.
Return to the Observation.
…….Observe the one observing.
………Observe observer observing.
…………Unobstructed, no stoppages.
…………….There is no one to advocate.
……………….Finally there’s no observer left.
…………………..Observer is merged in wisdom.
Observe; Do not analyze; If analyzing, conclude not.
If concluded, accept not; If accepted, advocate not.
.
Written: April 06, 2024
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Dandelion, damselfly, do you pray.
What sort of topics do you often display?
A lovely wind blows, oh sweet breeze.
A twinkling star, if you so desire to ease.
Put a halt to each anxiety and strain.
Beyond the expanse of unobstructed stain,
Watch delicate petals as they float away.
Be mindful, in a spirit of humility sway.
As recollections of aesthetic days emerge,
Amid an ambiguous disguise may surge.
Utterances were composed with confidence.
A thoroughly accomplished yarn providence.
You are my spring.
You make me feel alive!
It is as if I haven't been breathing
And you are my first taste of forest air.
The ringing of your heart
Is like the sounding of a tiny bell
That wakes me from my lethargy.
You call me the Reason For Your Smile
And I wonder how a Rose like you
Could burn even brighter
With a Holy Fire
Because you have felt my kiss
O! There is no better Day
Than the Day on which you were born,
For in the great graph of Life
There is recorded the first Rainbow
And it shone for you
Like the first Promise that God
Was happy
When we met.
All pure and unobstructed
By the moon,
Your Sun shines better
Than the Night.
But Night, ah Night!
Glows with the Radiance of your singing Star!
I call you Venus!
Bright Star of the Morning
And I celebrate
Your coming unto me!
May we be blessed to acknowledge all the wonders in our life
that have, for us, thus far accrued…
and to begin each day with a word of thanks…
and thoughts of gratitude.
Today I’m thankful for history…
when it’s an honest unobstructed view
and for the poetry and wisdom
of Maya Angelou
Who hoped for the day…
as I do
when we are blessed to see
Native American
and black history
taught from one book…
An honest and accurate book on U. S. history.
A small lake
There was a lake not far from the white-washed hamlet
in the interior of the Algarve; on hot summer days, witnessed
by my dog, which shuddered at the thought.
It was a small lake surrounded by hillsides, modest
almost unobstructed, just water, no big deal
One day when driving past the lake had disappeared
a dent in the ground full of thistles and tine of tunny
Oh, come think of it, a rowing boat that once had been
optimistically blue, but now sad dried teardrops.
The plane between the hill where the lake lived
is a center for helicopter services; not that much I mind
but I would rather see the lake again in the moonlight.
When neighbor fields are plowed, sowed, and irrigated
The reptiles enter our homes feeling accepted
They move around within, as though unobstructed
When neighbor fields are plowed, sowed, and irrigated
They sleep on our beds as though feeling protected
They play with our children mentally connected
When neighbor fields are plowed, sowed, and irrigated
The reptiles enter our homes feeling accepted
We are poor our homes are not costly constructed
Our beds are not cozy and sophisticated
We are nomads and our tents are often shattered
Reptiles do not hurt us as they feel well trusted
When neighbor fields are plowed, sowed, and irrigated
The reptiles enter our homes feeling accepted
16 July 2021
never thought i would make a friend again
everyday i am in kindergarten raising my hand to be chosen
i am again a space alien with flatulence and bad halitosis
yet i now have a friend and replies now come with air conditioning
never thought i would make a friend again
everyday i reach for a sky with barb wire around every temperamental cloud
i am again a freak show in a cage on a forgotten road to nowhere
yet i now have a friend and replies now come with unobstructed views
never thought i would make a friend again
everyday i walk on a beach overrun with careless seaweed that frigidly teases and bullies
i am again a quack job with too many bills and not enough oars
yet i now have a friend and replies now come with pure sincerity and unconditional love
Death bubbles by
in such a sorrowful state.
A snowflake melting
in the midst of life.
A rusty knife
the tip of which protrudes
to make a third nipple.
Creating nary a ripple
in the scheme of things.
Which brings us to an impasse.
Unobstructed,
Our methodology measures
the in-constitute and volatile breaking of sound?
One cup sound; two cups shatter,
an eardrum rapidly boiled.
Why would it matter?
Death rattles by
Cough Cough choking on
his chopstick nun-chuck
glory road to Hell.
Did I say for whom the bell
tolls now?
Did I mention that it’s NOT
some sacred cow?
Be silly-still and listen
to the feeling of guilt
Measure your Mayonnaise Days
with Infinite Care
dollops of sweetness
filling you up to the hilt
A Fruitcake Day
in the ordinary life
of an insect.
Who says Love-braising is easy
Growth and affinity
crave
An elusive trigger
A split second of blast
Courage to proclaim. Mindfully. Courage to launch
Courage to ache
Courage to apologize. Awakening. Courage to accept and respect
A long walk to forgiveness
Without my consent
It hurts
Dismantling a dam Inside fatherhood
Ouch
It hurts
Surprise attack dismayed extrovert and introvert
Tune In, QQ
Again
Tune In
Pace self-resilience
Allow vulnerability
But
never mistreatment
Ouch
It hurts
Pause on the edge of open sea
Oh, my darling compassionate man
Painful at times, yet
Surprisingly liberating
Wisdoms slay inner obstacles
Honor and duty endow survivorship
Clinging to cherish deep feelings
River of energy flowing unobstructed
June gloom
Astonishingly spoken
‘I love you’
Love-braising is an insight job
Tune In
The decree has disturbed my
desire to isolate myself in my cocoon. Loneliness
is now public policy, its armor pressed
with tenderness of genuine sadness.
Let my soul take command
without your rude intrusion,
lining up my door with
involuntary flowers, compromising
my ability to rejoice my seclusion.
Tangled reason and law
are for sale, of course
if I had a kid
even a cat or a dog, I
would venture pity on them
and obey my new unfreedom,
but my mind is made up in
favor of the wise men who
spell deity correctly and
are unobstructed by passion
for safety over nerves of
Liberty. The sumptuous
petri fish of restrictions is
never served under their
olive trees, for they know
only too well this virus
is not crowned by God,
only by men, who have
special eyes for misery.
When I am no longer here,
will sunrays fall and,
unobstructed by me,
still leave a spot
on the ground unlit?
Or shed leaves draw up short,
detour,
though I’m not in their way?
Will foamy water spill
around my lost
footprints in sand?
Or raindrops bounce off
my hunched-over silhouette?
Will fragrant breezes glide
around a hollow shaped like a man
with his face upturned?
Or the sound waves of
music that once made me
glad to be alive
flow around the space where
the open arms of my ears
used to be?
Will my pillow recall the
contours of my head,
refusing to be fluffed?
No, I don’t expect they will.
It would be enough if,
when I am dust,
you put your remembering arms
around my absence.
One more time.
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