Smoke tendrils unfurl lazily,
like a slow, sensual dance
A slothlike spiral that dissolves into nothingness
The air is heavy with the scent of burning
a fleeting reminder...
The ethereal smoke curls and uncurls
Fleeting and fragile
Dancing and free
Captivating. Mesmerizing.
A quiet whispered promise...
The fancy flickering tendrils disappear, lost
Leaving a lonely feint reminder
A sacred hint of their presence
A memory of what once was
now nothing more than a whisp...
A flickering pattern that vanishes
into the mollases night sky...
Here comes his ghost again, clutching old fears
Haunting me while I strive for sleep
His guitar lullaby still rings in my ears
The cadence’s grip on my soul to keep
I sense his energy and start to cry
His sadness weighs heavy on my heart
He creeps into my thoughts as rest looms nigh
This ache inside deeply tears me apart
In the hush of darkness he lurks unseen
A phantom of my grief that has no resolution
Awake or dreaming, perhaps somewhere in between
I seek meaning while suffering in shadows of seclusion
He spooks me by his lack of empathy
His coldness sends a shiver down my spine
This incessant ghosting won’t set me free
Possessing all matter in this space of mine
He’s hiding, but watches with curiosity
My realm holds boundaries that terrify him
He manipulates my sensitivity with muffled atrocity
In his company I share a misery so dim
His ghost is covert and mute of reflection or care
A stark apparition I’ve always seen right through
His kiss disappears as a lost whisp of air
Carrying my spirit that perished as he withdrew
Worship
Our
Wonderful
God of pacts
Wait
On
While
He acts
Wail
On
Wailers
He hears your cries
Want
Only
What
He wants for our lives
Whisper
On
Wind
The way the Spirit speaks
Whisper
Only
Words
That brings us to His feet
Whipped
Out
Wounded
For our transgressions
Wiped
Out
Wickedness
From an old man's processions
Wrongfully
Ousted
When
We were the guilty ones
Writing
On
Walls
We've become sons
Whisp
Of
Wonderment
Is what we've understood
Watch
Out
While
God acts for the sum of good
Waiting
On
Waiting
On God's end to the story
We
Only
We
Were created for His glory
Worship
Our
Wonderful
God
This little we have is a lifetime.
A day in the sun and the dark
is all this little we have.
If we blossomed at the speed of most flowers
hours would be the little we have.
A child is the span of the world,
a person, the whole of its history.
If we could catch just one moment
it would be a moment
that contained all that is or ever will be.
Tell your life-stories to the moon,
tell the world all that you have done
or not done. Name that story,
then watch it disappear
as a whisp of mist in sunlight.
Fiction is timeless.
The winter snow and freeze killed everything
I planted in the spring,
Rhododendrons, roses, Hawaii hibiscus
And the bougainvillea orange king.
Parsley, sage and thyme are gone,
Peony and pansies too,
The daisies died and I still sigh
For the loss of primrose blue.
No more azaleas or alyssum,
Passionflower or peppermint,
The coleus did not last nor sassafras,
And goodbye to rosemary’s scent.
And all the leaves on the lemon tree
Look more like a weeping willow,
Sagging sadly as if begging madly
To finally let her go.
But Spring is looming ‘round the bend
And new seeds await good earth,
To come alive in sun-filled skies
And signify life’s worth.
As all things come, and all must go
In a whisp of place and time,
Like flowers and plants in a cosmic dance,
The seasons of life are Sublime.
© Terrell Martin, 01/27/2025
Christmas frost is in the air,
the time to hold our loved ones near,
Some have been through hell and high water,
But my dear your demons we will slaughter,
Don't let their darkness take your light,
Your like the star on that cold Christmas night,
That pulled the wise men to saunter, the beautiful whisp that I cant let smoulder,
Let me be your shoulder and use me my love, as cannon fodder.
Arise like the glow of Christmas lights that we hang on our tree of promise right,
Love an hold what mean us dear,
and never fear the dark that wanders.
Today the air is brisk and clear
With a whisp of winter in the air.
As pigeons coo, sweet morning doves,
Pitching woo like young love does.
And speckled dew upon the leaves
Uplifting every part of me
From tip of toes to top of head
Enthralled by all in this flowerbed.
Ashes to ashes, dust to rise
Transforming
Me,
When pigeons fly.
© Terrell Martin, 12/12/2024
.
i'm lisp'n
trip'n over mine
tongue
lip pip pip
slip pip hern
whisp
i mean
mine eyne whisk
excited
hern
hip
.
if
'gain my
upper
and
lower
lips
'bout her
twisted
slips
'tiz not her
legz
'tiz 'bout my
tongue
'tiz
'bout hern
limber
whisp
She, suffered in angst and a deep loneliness,
As her jasmined poertry, was new and just growing.
“What good are my poems regarding truthfulness
or honesty?”
Against seas of creative poems, puff-pretty, bright
And glowing?
The icy, winter,rains came and gave her not a
whisp of a warm answer.
Her soul and stomach did crave some reprise..
“No, no, rest, dear poetess,”….words whispered
came in the form of a mystical soul- prancer.
Then..what to do, she most freely wept!
“Stop looking for readers of my poems?”
Is there a wondrous secret being kept?
“Stop, stop”, the laughing, winter-prancer said.
“Each poem you wrote once sweetly slept in
the soft bed of your heart.”
“Let it be go now….and like a newborn eagle..
alight with freedom and depart.”
Dedicated to Joe Maverick in Australia, on the
loss of his cat, Tibbles.! Condolences.
Your kndness to me has always been
appreciated!
Huggs~Pangie
***Written sometine in my early years here***
1/6/2024
IF 'HE' HADN'T COME AND BORE HIS CROSS...I COULDN'T BARE MINE. AMEN.
Many concerns are on my plate
so many worries…tranquility escapes
I look to the right and to the left
but only find more troubling depth
In this vacant alley…I feel lost
like there is no end…just cost
Then, in a fragrant whisp, I’m reminded…
of a road, and barn…to which it winded
Light glows…from a heavenly candle
that slowly moves across…midnight’s mantle
My soul’s eye…follows its course
‘til it halts, beaming as a guiding source
From an ass…a tended virgin alights…
large with child…the hay a blessed site
A cry comes forth…awakening the world
for A Child is Born… a prophesied hurl
And as shepherds and magi rush to the scene
my shoulder’s yoke morphs…a peace…serene
The Joy of the Season which I had evaded
now enters my heart and I am elated
I hear a choir…of the heofon kind
announcing the Savior…of all mankind
Though my troubles are still yet the same…
hope, glistens horizon…Alleluia, Christ came!
Is 7:14, 9:6, Matt 11: 28-30, Lk 2:8-20
©jmsbell-12/05/22
shed tears with no eyes spoke words but not wise - no one there just a disguise.
A Blue Heron unleashes itself from a
surfing wind and flowing sky.
Wings spread it rides, almost hovering,
as it seeks a nestled place to land.
There, the long reeds
have been hollowed out by its mate,
but she has gone to fish,
gone elsewhere.
The bird lands,
for a moment its long legs are buoyed
by the merest whisp of gravity.
The heron settles, folding its wings
like a cloak around him,
now as the wind ruffles its feathers
he seems only a scrawny effigy,
of the bird in flight,
a plumed twig planted in the disturbed shallows.
The pond ripples with silver whispers,
small fish dart, their heads
arrowing deeper.
The Great Blue
strides slowly to the shoreline
becomes a living statue,
a patient presence
amid the rushing blow.
That is when I saw
how the world is stirred around
by a stillness,
how an unmoving center
can turn within a heron's eye.
Snowflakes soft as a Kentucky breeze
Floating down gently in the frigid air
Settling on the barren limbs of trees,
White brush strokes on a winter frieze
A whisp of snow, an old winter tease
Reminding us of our ski gear to prepare
Snowflakes soft as a Kentucky breeze
Floating down gently in the frigid air.
Written November 18, 2022
I endure the trials of day
To embrace the veil of night
For only in my dreams
Can my world be set right
With these hours comes insight
Like windows to my past
The sands of time suspended
And history be recast
All that was once lost
Returns to within reach
And memories bring lessons
Tomorrow cannot teach
Moments although fleeting
Reunite us once again
But the void causes a tear
That mere visions cannot mend
Paradise interrupted
By the entrance of the dawn
Like a whisp of smoke in the breeze
Here … for a moment … then gone
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