I just decided I might just share some of my collections. Spirtuality tends to creep up on me and I am left challenging the essence of my existence. Sometimes it is an irreverent consideration of the abstract term of paradise, when I ask myself if it really exists and I catch myself wondering if I would like my neighbors. Yes, I know we both agreed that I have maybe a few bolts not properly screwed on right. No need to rub it in . Seriously though, what will it feel like? I feel self conscious thinking of it and just want to get on with the business of living. So you see I will once in a while post poems.
I make a promise now though, to ensure that I post at the very minimum of once a week. Fair? I have a teaching job you know. I will be working with creative minds about writing. Ergh! always assumed the crazy addiction of writing was reserved for folks like me and you eh? I look with curiosity when I see young persons walk in, a glint in their eye and a readiness to argue the fine point of writing. I sigh as I see myself in them and I feel a tingle. Didn’t I just say I was posting poetry? em..em okay here goes. They are just collections so keep the carving knife for later okay?
COLLECTION
The day drapes herself with purple hues as it wakes.
It makes ready for creation
all that is needed to weave
from the golden sun, experiences of Light.
As you open your eyes
to the greeting of a shimmering morning,
may the Light rays find you happy and well.
Dreams flow rich,
from the running brook,
man stands to watch
the colouring book of His grace.
My soul longs to feel on me, the grace,
I sigh and lay in the soft grass of home.
The bells through the flashing lights
tell me that harvests are almost done.
Will Father find enough for the treasure?
I hope for you that
the harvest though not very pure,
will ring the bells.
The sun can be persuaded
to have roses in the desert.
The dew at dawn is as
soft as the outer reaches of the sun.
the hand that holds the Sword is loving and firm.
The scapel of the surgeon is sharp
to remove the errant tissue.
It is mercy.
The eagle lives on the crag
as the dove descends
and the sea breaks out on victory song.
The unicorn sniffs the golden air
for the sun is married again.
The Rose has seven points on her garb.
The temple is no longer hidden
and there is blue light all around!
The Final Judgment?
The fox returns to his hole
To lie in wait
For the intrepid chicken
That squawks its stupidity
The protection of the blind lady
Is but a momentary fancy
The hyeana’s laugh
Strident and hoarse
Is menacing in its promise
To tear feathers asunder
The growling belly
Of the howling mob
Like visiting tornadoes
Make Christmas lights
Of human bodies
For human frailties
Stand mute as sign posts
To an exasperated Earth!
Look to your justice
For here comes Justice!
In blazing light colors
Shifts from tainted egos
The bloated fellows
From tainted cloaks
In calm fashion
Renders bare human passions
Today;s Man profoundity
Was yesterday’s folly
Tomorrow my Janus
I stand bound to love
To serve Justice in Purity
They abuse the Seven
In an ode to heaven
To see in their temerity
Their take of severity
May suffice to serve seven
Four and three
False and false by same degree
Is this the final judgment?
Really and truly?
Have you ever?
Well I never!
On a sad cold night,
The Sun in shame hid its face.
Mother love had to bring
Down from the wind pane
Names of those, year
Before, had sworn fealty to the lord
Their ego’s a giant boulder
Stood astride their flow!
Time and again,
Man has fallen and stood unreliable
How many times shall the
Light watch, as we again
And again betray our
Promises to be faithful.
Is there an alternative to Light?
How can the mountain be
Anywhere but where it is?
How can we reject what
We have deserved and
Enthrone our pettiness?
When will the bandage really
Fall, and real service begin?