“There Are Times”
There are times when rocks are all I need,
A shelter, something solid, something half complete.
No eternal covering, nothing dreamed. I just can’t sleep
Right now, and all I want to do is sit a spell, and see
Myself through what it is I ought to feel.
There is so much to think about at times,
(The lunar bride’s not called as yet) my mind’s not clear, but I’m
Not sure I care to do a thing nor move about those eels
I see that make so many close to me so utterly confused.
You know I rarely miss my ride, so, if
You don’t mind, I’ll sit and stare, and sift
Through things I shouldn’t think about, and muse
About myself till dusk. And if you please, I’ll shift
From time to time to let you know I haven’t died,
Abide a while, and let the moon bring in the tide.
Posted in Age, Aging, Biding time, Contemplation, Imagery, Imagism, Lyric Poetry, Poem, Poetry, Samsara, Sea turtles, Sonnet, Sonnets
Tagged Imagery, Imagism, Lyric Poetry, Poem, poetry, Sea turtles, Sonnet, Sonnets
“Placated in the Midnight”
Placated in the midnight for a time, softly moving, flowing purples
Prove longing in a hurried bower. Sentiments, interpreted
In their yearning by a greater sight, a gilded purity, requests to know
A deeper joy in stations far above their own. These! the strident yellows,
Richest apricots, stealth in forest greens, and in their mirrors’ prism others
In a rainbow’s richest hues. Truculence and degradation spawn another
Third, a half note difference that in the hour makes no sense. These! their fellow
Travellers pause but moments in this place and for all intents
And purposes yield to what they think has come pass. Conclusions
Mount in efforts to remember who it was could do this to whom. Confusion
Circumvents the purpose of reunion when their synergies, delayed, are bent
Distorting content, vanities and what they both have willed:
Blindness in the heart and mind while all precocious certitude is stilled.
“Bathetic Moments’ Voiced”
Bathetic moments’ voiced, a tremolo; a single cigarette, a candle
In a valley, the briefest transfer from so little matter
To so innocuous a spark is seen perhaps for miles, the latter
End of someone’s random afterthought, the ancient mantle
Of exchange expressed in grains of sand,
And this so far from source, so utterly homely
Yet brilliant in its insignificance and still the only
Vindication of its kind through fogbound skies on land.
There is a barrier between the two
An enigma, twice a paradox,
Two thrice wounded souls within a box
That sits astride a gleaming paragon of simple views
And simpler decisions. Dilemmas offered to the least in time
Retain their energies but sacrifice their matter in a simple rhyme.
…art by AirForc3 on deviantArt…
“This You Chose”
This you chose, you know, the lethal wound, external fire,
Internal final cut the cleanest; the choice was never mine.
This you chose; your arms, your scent defined
The borders, walls, the floors, the exposure. Your desires
Say nothing past the yesterdays of pre-dawn, and glad
I was to rest the while, and glad you are that I am gone.
But nothing’s rendered in the late night’s song,
The me in you, and yes! You know the sad
Result: that moon’s pain can not know a sequel.
The senses, these you know , with no contempt,
But radiant resignation in the hours of heat and pure idolatry. Spent,
The sentence stands within this world. These final sentiments rule;
The veil, the truths we’ve always known; the hourglass, the idols of our nights,
Its sands, a closing hush of breath at daybreak when all our meteors take flight.
Posted in Age, Certitude, Death, Delusion, Detachment, Emotion, Existence, Fidelity, Idolatry, Illusion, Imagery, Imagination, Imagism, Immortality, Infinitity, Love, Lyric Poetry, Mortality, Pain, Patience, Philosophy, Poem, Poetry, Reality, Relativity, Samsara, Separation, Sonnet, Sonnets
Tagged Age, Art, Death, Delusion, Emotion, Existence, Fidelity, Illusion, Imagery, Imagism, Love, Lyric Poetry, Mortality, Pain, Poem, poetry, Relationships, Samsara, Separation, Sonnet, Sonnets
“I Found The Day’s Messiah”
I found the day’s messiah breathing as if to pray;
No prayer, of course, no sign, no moon, no stars, silence—
Balm to souls and solace in a crisis
Of questions—so many hopes lay absurd, what they must say
Gives Animas to eternity and shields a simple fear, the terror
Of these days. I would not ask outright, “I have no words,” then,
Took flight so very tight in twilight when
From cancer and fallen branches—errors,
Really, to the whole—innocence conjures lasting alibis,
Sentinels that never come to rest, fruits of thought pressed
With violence enough to produce the wine—more from less,
Inebriation from what the old man once said. Patient sighs
Amongst the sparrows egg him on while sitting on a porch with me.
“Make peace with the Fathers,” says he, “from Sons of Adam flee.”
Posted in Age, Aging, Imagery, Imagism, Lyric Poetry, Poem, Poetry, Samsara, Sonnet, Sonnets
Tagged Age, Aging, End Times, Existence, Imagery, Imagism, Immortality, Lyric Poetry, Mortality, Relationships, Separation, Sonnet, Sonnets, Sons of Adam, Wisdom
“He Delights in Convenient Signs”
He delights in convenient signs: the sun, the moon, the stars
The universe, and through illusion his eyes declares the day
And night are one. His view will see its way
Through symbols. He sees all points of value from within or far
Above their azure prison bars of graphs, these atmospheres
That parent all the earth, extending parts per million through to voids
Above, below, and far behind the splay of asteroids,
And solitudes in comets, sunspots, suspect planets, clear
Blue skies, and all twelve scions in the heavens and this
With ease and loving faith with no regard for certitude. Who
Is not taken with parades, grand processions,
Multiples of keen perception spliced with clear impressions,
Curtain calls for universes, wholes in which the paper defines the clues
To occupy the crude sophistication of our many-billioned eyes?
And after all, these cosmic nosegays raise all souls, and take us to the skies.
…at top, photograph by Jesse on deviantArt.com…
Posted in Imagery, Imagism, Lyric Poetry, Poem, Poetry, Samsara, Sonnet, Sonnets
Tagged Existence, Illusion, Imagery, Imagism, Lyric Poetry, Nature, Poem, poetry, Sonnet, Sonnets, Wonder
“But That We All Are”
But that we all are on the List and die
And once again appear on someone’s right
Or left-hand honoured roll in fame and light
And all that can be cherished, or idolised
Within a spectrum visible, allied,
Augmented well beyond the common sight,
Imagination rife with conjecture’s might,
A lunacy to thoughtful evidence, despised,
The greatest fear to those who would have it so,
Impediment to all that is the mind,
Bliss to hearts who bear the Holy Texts
Of all humanity; the choices grow
To what has sanctified the quest, the line
Of clear succession of life and what comes next.
…paintings above, Matt Adnate; below, Michael Staniak…
Posted in Choices, Imagery, Imagination, Imagism, Italian sonnet, List, Lyric Poetry, Petrarchan sonnet, Poem, Poetry, Quest, Samsara, Sonnet, Sonnets
Tagged End Times, Existence, Imagery, Imagism, Immortality, Italian sonnet, Love, Lyric Poetry, Mortality, Petrarchan sonnet, Poem, poetry, Relationships, Samsara, Sonnet, Sonnets, Tragic Flaw
Questions mount in compliments, the third’s irrelevant:
To be or not to be, to seek the seen or unseen or not to see
at all; so, what’s a circus in a world without eternity?
Then, again, even if no one’s here still the monitor’s adamant
Unequivocal nothing has happened–so what’s the point?
And were you here beside me, would I then need sleep,
Awake but to open my mouth and sing? Would I seek another deep
Abyss within, impose a curfew on the thing or casually anoint
The latest impasse with a casual kiss? There’s a Judas in this;
His days are numbered with the dusts, the rust of wrinkled
Inevitability with excess housed in reliquaries of gold
Whence comes the latest least expected crop
Of shibboleths, coined and counted; there we’ll be atop the list
Some two branches on the tree, twin tokens found, no other sound,
And when I go you’ll miss the show, and who’ll lay me in the ground?
…art piece above by Robin Kranitzky & Kim Overstreet
Posted in Age, Aging, Imagery, Imagism, Lyric Poetry, Poem, Poetry, Sonnet, Sonnets
Tagged Double Sonnet, Imagery, Imagism, Lyric Poetry, Relationships, Sonnet, Sonnets
Bahá’ís throughout the world celebrate this day [beginning at sunset] as the Day of the Covenant, the Celebration of the Eternal Covenant between God and Mankind through His Manifestations and Prophets, eternal in the past, eternal in the present, eternal in the future:
“His Holiness Abraham, on Him be peace, made a covenant concerning His Holiness Moses and gave the glad-tidings of His coming. His Holiness Moses made a covenant concerning the Promised One, i.e. His Holiness Christ, and announced the good news of His Manifestation to the world. His Holiness Christ made a covenant concerning the Paraclete and gave the tidings of His coming. His Holiness the Prophet Muhammad made a covenant concerning His Holiness the Báb and the Báb was the One promised by Muhammad, for Muhammad gave the tidings of His coming. The Báb made a Covenant concerning the Blessed Beauty of Bahá’u’lláh and gave the glad-tidings of His coming for the Blessed Beauty was the One promised by His Holiness the Báb. Bahá’u’lláh made a covenant concerning a promised One who will become manifest after one thousand or thousands of years. –`Abdu’l-Bahá, Bahá’í World Faith
“As the Sea”
As the sea swells, so the Covenant remains, promises fulfilled.
Through Abraham the Friend of God, and Moses, Giver
Of The Law; fruited and confirmed in Jesus Son of Mary given
In His Person more–the Love of God–and through His Will,
Submission under God in Hijáz through Muhammad, Seal of Prophets;
From the East, Lord Krishna of The Three, The holiness of Buddha in Purity;
The Fires of Zoroaster from the mountain; security from casuistry
Within the Witness of The Báb, and Justice in Bahá’u’lláh
`gainst the nursery rhymes of sophists
And the worship of Creation over He who did create
The whole with but a single Word, “Be!” Hosts exclaim and expiate
Their cavils at the Word through numbers, and the terror of the tribes.
Their synergies against the tide of history, bow the knee to what they rape,
And call it truth. By God! The earth is weary of their weight.
The Word alone remains; the Covenant alone withstands this dreary freight.
Posted in Bahá’í, Covenant, End Times, Hope, Lyric Poetry, Philosophy, Poem, Poetry, Samsara, Sonnet
Tagged Bahá’í, Covenant, Existence, Imagery, Imagism, Immortality, Infinity, Lyric Poetry, Poem, poetry, Samsara, Sonnet