Category Archives: Words

“The Phrase”

Hazel Reeves3

 

“The Phrase”

The phrase transcends the pen withdrawn
And so, too, the movement in and of itself.
The notebook’s filled, volumes line the shelf
And there upon a winter’s night, the low straw
Wins and he reviews the lot and finds the flaw
In each. Perhaps a word crossed out, a gulf
In time allows a light to objectivity less the self.
And when the wheel stops, the law
Of averages condemns the thing to sit there
Once again, forgotten, anonymous as a star
That far away, explodes with fireworks
That would consume a galaxy—matter gone berserk—
Ignite and what had no energies now amassed, a pregnant flare
Until at last, one starry night, a whisper reaches earthly ears.
Just so, the incomplete, the Word to words and back again
Traverse the gap as the task of phonemes
Aspires to ascend to higher stations, morphemes
Honoured in this natal happy path. Observe:
Throughout the zodiac of conscious meaning
Stars that matter to velocities in galaxies
Reborn inspire genitive ignition in the gravity
Of natural wisdom’s past and present leaning
To fruition in what was always meant to be.
The moon, in its phase; the sun, its angry season,
The poet writes within a pendulum of forces, reason
Bound, but nonetheless eternal mysteries
Revealed as the Ancient of Days calls behind the present hour
Words from phrases only time, distance and the pen can devour.
As the audience is eternal, so, too, what will compel
The heart and mind to ideal calligraphy; the wordsmith’s nod
Secure. And as “the source of all learning is the knowledge of God,”*
So, too, the gravitas of the nib cannot be silenced, nor the muse expelled.

Hazel Reeves2

*Bahá’u’lláh, “Words of Wisdom”, Tablets of Bahá’u’lláh

…pieces of scupture by Hazel Reeves...

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“Sonnet in Honour of the Feast of Kalimát or “Words”

diamondBahá’ís throughout the world gather today within the First Day of the Month of Kalimát [Words] before sunset to celebrate the first day of the Bahá’í Month of Kalimàt.

“Sonnet in Honour of the Feast of Kalimát or “Words”

The Word illumines surfaces in the soul;
Not so the mortal eye, my friend–they who dilate
Earthly limitations know the truth–they violate
The borders of the pupil to occlude accents from a dream. The flow
Of images beneath the lids so often bound, so ever-weathered,
Couples with the muse, crown a cosmic wind of aromatic lustre in the ether,
A cloud—a simple afterthought of action forged in fires of hubris–either,
Lust or fear, pilots in the path of all dust: both are witnesses. Tethered
Wonders, perceptions of the lens, veined, suited in appearance; perceptions
Of an ancient mountain’s bile or gleaned from its seed, diamonds from the sun
Are death to those who negate. Just so, say Prophets in the Sealed Writ or sung
Beyond capacities of the ear heard when spoke, pronounced and uttered
Only once in pre-existent natural form. Seized,
the Word is cut and polished in the tailings of the present.
The Holy Word defines the substance of the raw material of divine parsimony
cut and spliced in sacrifice, rendered gems from ores of human ignominy.

“They Linger”

estrangement

“They Linger”

They linger by the window; they seek
What’s just beyond not so much from desire but punctuation.
Souls in single file grant noteworthy unction
To the slightest glance howsoever intently; no more than a peek,
And as it happens simply walk on by. Innocuous.  The poet says
That passion will consume its fruits,
And I believe him as the notion suits
The age in which I live or the page I read; but if he seeks a “Yes!”
doubts evaporate like myrrh as she’s quite forgot
When she airs her rooms and threads her loom as if the purpose
in his witness were merely ballast for pain–
All her earthbound joys share the momentary respite
of a rural mailbox, at best a little shelter from the rain
For those who still receive their letters with the circulars. Caught
In fantasies defined in galaxies that disappear at sunrise
there remains the death knell of all wounds and worlds,
A poverty of nouns and adjectives that obfuscate reality
beyond the pale of words.

Stairs

…in interaction and appreciation of the poetic words of Alexander M. Zoltai…

All is
Lost but the
Chance to
Lose it
All.


…in interaction and appreciation of the poetic
words above of

Alexander M. Zoltai…
nfaa.wordpress.com [wordpress.com]

Aptly expressed; a delicious thought, actually.
There is unequalled truth to this, the bailiwick
of those who know no doubt that blessings and curses
of this life are in fact inexhaustible, inextinguishable.

What is left then, but Creation, itself? What courage
does it take to approach all aspiration and consummation
in the ashes? Every planet’s doom is reunion with its star;
every star, its own appointment with the beginning

and the end of all that matters and energy’s just what’s left over.
And perhaps this is, after all, the raison d’être
for the inexhaustible,
the indivisible, inextinguishable

pain or sorrow, joy or bliss
within the mansions of this world.
If it is of God, it will last beyond leaving,
and as the longed for inauguration into the Next.

Be it the either which, expressed quite simply,
the Heavens and Earth may cease to exist–
in fact must in the end expire–but His Word
will never pass away, and neither the one

privy to Its existence;
and like all that is, we are in the end,
indivisible, inextinguishable.
Whilst we breathe, so, too, breeds our sacred company,

so, too, our own clear magnification in direct proportion
to recognition of one another and in the reality
of His oneness, our own dear being,
indivisible, inextinguishable.