It was created hundreds of years ago
although not on any map, yet not all know
of this pristine and unsoiled vivid venue
in spectral hues of fuchsia and raspberry art,
with compliments of evergreen, ever seen
under a dramatic sky of coral pink, sinks the heart
above, a celestial choir of sparkling stars
below, the steps of cobbled stone that steer
A generous garden filled with philodendron,
sewn are seeds grown in faculties of pure illume
wild floral essence sings sublime symphonies
No thorns that prick, no petals torn with pain,
they spark blissful emotions in her soulful eyes
She is in her seventh heaven, magenta fields,
moonlight conquers soulless shadows,
tepid air crystal calm is ever clear
tortious tears never flow as a sign of nobility
nor the elements be manipulated
Storms linger still, their spiral peaceful
where there are no scars, symbols of survival
from sins felt deeply by her descendants
nor nothing to conform against her will
yet not vulnerable, not evermore
For every June she visits the garden of Gemini
she is over the moon, in her forevermore
corrupt
sinful, hurtful
harming, demeaning, demoralizing
fraud, theft, honor, innocence
helping, uplifting, encouraging
helpful, unsoiled
pure
The women sing songs to the moon,
Praising its beauty.
They dance and sing when it’s in its full glow,
Their souls ascending and descending,
Transformed into priestesses.
The men venture into the forest at twilight every fortnight.
There, an unveiling and a revealing take place.
The spirits commune with them in the tranquil ambience,
Warning them about any impending danger,
Sharing mysteries that are soon to enter their territory.
The men become gifted watchmen.
Something astonishing happens with the sun.
At midday, it beams its rays on a vast meadow,
Where the plants are exuberantly green.
These are called the Blessed Bloom,
An elixir of vitality and rejuvenation.
The atmosphere is clean and fresh.
There is no conflict between humans and machines,
No exploitation of nature,
No encroaching on her space.
The leash has not taken the lead.
I asked to know where I am,
And I met a stranger who looked familiar.
He said I’m in an unsoiled place,
An unaltered place,
An alternate universe.
April 8, 2025.
New walls, inviting
colors crisp and…
Clean, washed
bright, beautiful and…
Fresh, renewed
by cheery colors, so…
Neat, energetic
like the unsullied, and…
Different, unmarked
by the past, unsoiled and …
Detailed by soft brush
filled with paint’s heavy scent…
Sparkling, like the life
reborn, new and changed,
converted by the primer –
His light never fades out…
His brush mends the heart
restores the soul with faith
and transforms the life with grace…
Painting the spirit in love so amazing
Painting my life so I’ll always be praising
"The pure heart is a spotless mirror in which
images of infinite beauty are reflected"
In splendorous devout space of my pristine heart,
shimmering in the sanctified radiance of indigo night,
you gleam like seraphic sequins of the moondust,
I feel fascinated as I sense your sapphire sheen.
My heart morphs into mesmeric turquoise lake,
where the rose petals flying from my garden float
with reflection of the facsimile of your florid face,
my essence engraves the beauty of heavenly intuition.
My heart swathed by silver streaks of stardust sparkle,
pulsates at its crescendo with the concerto of ecstasy,
where the beauty of your enticing ballet I see imaged,
suffused with moonshine my mind mirrors your charm.
My heart becomes the replica of memory montage,
as the receptive perception pattern of divine love
configures the enticement image in kaleidoscopic collage,
the unsoiled mirror of my heart reflects your beauty.
Day and night we toiled but some aims were foiled
by souls who opposed us, thwarting our goal
but we wished all well, since our heart’s unsoiled
and detractors merely play their life role.
Made in His image, we are living light,
yet on earth we burn, since we’re here to learn,
so be it boon or blight, it is alright,
for when we forgive, God’s grace we so earn.
Reptiles in human form create a storm
but in timeless time, they will heed love’s chime,
so we send them pulsations of joy warm,
that divine entwined, they heavenward climb.
Seeds of love sowed, repays our soul’s debts owed,
thus breath by breath bliss in heart is endowed.
time cloaked fierce wrath
I gave up the past or the wind
wipe the chill off my flesh
bury the sun in brine
watch the warped beams
an intricate mosaic
bathing inside
the dripping rays
In utter
crystal testimony
pectoriloquy
squiggles sloppy stencils
shattered insights
defiant & resistant
shoreless traveler mood
of
braided stories drifting
left unmarked
unsoiled
knead to the ground
lap up the virgin earth
with
my thirsty soul
tangible
&sprawled
untouched
by the
contaminated
fingers
of
perception.
my
broken
reflection
on
endless pages of poetry
perfectly aligned
melting
into
unrefined masterpiece
1st place contest winner
You Say Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Brian Strand
Within the cave of our heart
Is a domain of vibrant emptiness
It is the pristine inner sanctum of soul
Where only childlike innocence may enter
Bliss magnetism hums with potent power
God’s presence pulsates as living light
It is cognisable by soul’s inner eye
If heart be pure and unsoiled
From within this toroidal vortex
Which to the outer world is a void
In a stillness continuum we may discern
The truth of of our soul’s eternal existence
11-February-2023
The Clearing Poetry Contest
Sponsor: craig cornish
In the tranquil of the night,
In a vision in his bed,
He sees her haloed with light,
Running through the field,
She stops and waves at him,
He’s captivated by her beauty,
Unsoiled by life's vicissitudes,
She smiles, shakes her head and
turns to embark on her journey,
He runs to meet up with her,
The closer he gets,
The more she is encircled with light
and the farther she seems to be,
A door opens before her,
It bears the same light she carries,
She runs through the door,
It vanishes,
Stars drop like snowflakes,
He stands in awe,
A dream that comes to him every night,
A vision that is recalcitrant in its visit,
He seeks to unravel the mystery,
He desires to meet the lady veiled with light.
December 25, 2022.
Back to the beginning,
at the time we were born,
connected with spirit,
till mind-body cravings
began judging merit.
Back to the beginning,
when childlike heart was pure,
we forgave easily,
relinquishing the past,
flowing thus breezily.
Back to the beginning,
in per-puberty years,
we held equal gender
devoid of feral lust,
each heart flutter tender.
Back to the beginning,
when our soul was unsoiled,
we lived in the present;
breath easy and carefree,
heart vibrant and content.
14-September-2022
I am African, I affirm that i am Original African
untainted, unblenched, unsoiled.
I am African,
with all the dignity of the first human.
unashamed, unbowed, undaunted. I am African.
unique, culturally so.
I am from the people whose origin birthed all others,
the first creatures of Earth.
I am African,
Boldly I declare,
with this strength and sinews affirming,
though they obscure my origin with fabrication,
and contorted the fact with lies,
Yet, my spirit aligning with the truth undeniable, I am African.
Though the glare of calumny opposes,
and unvoiced spite rent my melanin,
I stand unfettered declaring, I am African.
unrestricted traversing the globe,
from this climes to India,
I carry beauty across continents
sowing seeds everywhere.
I bore the heat unblenched.
I retain the goodness of Gold.
This sun does not affright.
it leaves no particles with the scourge.
When you see me touring the Land with strength,
Remember,
I am African.
Unsoiled white pages attract like magnets
Waiting for words like silvery bits of iron filings
Words and phrases seeking recognition,
Hungering for an emotionally satisfying place
Of lasting importance -- meaning, a message
Not to be erased by this age’s mediocrity,
Worthy of being a literary rite of passage
That will more than merely fill a blank space
Not cold or unmoving like a legal deposition
But inspiring as a glorious choir of voices singing
Unsoiled white pages attract with no regrets.
Written July 18, 2022
Ma! Ma! Moh! Moh!
He points up into the sky,
Looking up, I see his awe,
An enchanting ball of light.
Ma! Moh! Moh!
He jumps in pure bliss,
I carry him up, cuddle him tight,
Pointing to the bright ball of light.
Ma! Moh! Moh!
Yes baby, it's the moon,
Moon baby, moon,
Ma! Moh! Moh!
Yes baby, moh..moh..moon,
He smiles an unsoiled joy,
A dear moment that we share,
A young beautiful soul that I have,
We lock in the august wonder,
A luminous ball in the night sky,
I'm grateful for this hug of trust,
A grandma and her darling grandchild.
Just because I wear black glasses
Does it mean the universe is black?
Just because I find thorns and bushes
Does it mean all face the same too?
Just because I see one side of the globe
Does it mean there’s no other side at all?
When Red signals stop my movements
Don’t green signals allow others to move?
The universe is not a little textile piece
To measure, slice, sew and showcase.
It has gold, yet, it’s not gold;
It has diamonds, yet, it’s no diamond.
It’s a mixture; an amalgamation –
Of colors, forms, shapes, flavors,
Rhymes, rhythms, humans, beasts…
It’s a treasure of philosophies, theologies,
Truths, myths, anecdotes, fables, epics…
Only having removed our color-glasses of
Likes and dislikes; and made our minds
Clear, clean, white papers unsoiled
And perceive through the light of faith
Can we fully know its sacred secrets!
Isn’t true discernment of deserts and
Deserted paths the magic of wisdom…!
Yet, no tree can be fully fruitful
In the ever wide wild orchid of wisdom;
No seeker gains absolute enlightenment
In the endless school of experience
The universe, so far, has never opened
Its doors of secrets entirely to anyone…
02 June 2021
Awed by the scarlet cone flower’s beauty, I sense her purity.
I give her a reverent birth, thrilled by her loveliness.
Her confidence oozes into the garden with rapt maturity.
She has a delicate countenance that shows such finesse.
Hostile gardenias frown at her majestic ways and daintiness.
Jealousy has apparently reared its hideous head.
Goodly cone flower appears unsoiled, with no distress.
Mother nature smiles enough said.
There is an ominous feeling from the tulip bed.
They are giving the cone flower looks of a bully.
Enraged by her beauty, because they are almost dead,
They do their best to disturb and sully.
Enthusiastic geranium gives scarlet coneflower the nod.
He appreciates her tolerance for the garden varieties.
A butterfly light upon her pedals, which is not in the least odd.
Cone flower feels appreciated now in many degrees.
Baby faeries feel love toward the scarlet flower of the day.
They decided to visit along with their mystical mothers.
Coneflower exudes warmth and love in every way
Which eliminates the negative feelings of others
Written 5-28-2021
Type: Quatrain
Contest: Workshop Inviting to a Muse
Sponsor: Jack Webster
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