Each face swimming into my hereness
calls and texts or in the shunned connections
blessings in this misty morning nearness
the grey thick air devours reflections
of vivid vistas. Yesterday’s clearness
disappears. Here a cold wet inspection
alleviates misperceptions, makes light
of falsely perceived rejection haze-bright.
The fractal I create illuminates
all of my lessons soaking in presence.
When we touch I embrace, elucidate
the wounded patterns in my face. Essence
of evolution, intuitive gates
open the paradigm’s obsolescence.
Hear my growl deep in the woods. Rain-fog gifts
are love, a sending as the timelines shift.
Soundcloud recording here.
Inspired by: Grey turns to blue, Alleviate, Devour, Vivid, Growl and the OctPoWriMo Day 22 prompt to follow your gut feelings in an Ottava Rima.
From the top of the stairs, look for the cats
below the round marble-topped table, sleek
haughty, dismissing us for lead-paned glass
and the sun’s slanted golden reach you seek
in fabulous dreams of different worlds
time elongates and we drowse-imagine
relaxed and filled with satisfaction, whirled
into a love connection we begin
on such a slow August afternoon like
a portent of fall–choose now and choose love!
Imagine, create, through all boundaries
flow. Slipping through time, gain the stars above.
That’s version one, written quickly. On dversepoets today, we are asked to take our poem through the Bök Checklist and question each noun, verb, adverb and adjective, looking for the uncanny. You can head over to the prompt and try it!
After the revising, the title changed as well as other surprises…here’s version 2.
We Fall Slow
From the top of the stairs, consider cats
below the marble-topped round table, sleek
disdain for us peering through lead-paned glass
and the sun’s slanted golden reach you seek
in fabulous realms and alternate times.
Relaxed and filled with satisfaction, we
drowse-imagine, this dog and I sublime
rainbow-splattered tiles and carved Siamese.
Into this love connection we fall, slow
late August afternoon til September
rushes in. Through faux boundaries we flow
choosing precisely now we remember.
At some point, we awake and say, oh, yeah, I forgot! This is a play. Bravo!
It’s hard to say what’s inconsequential
morning stretched, time paused and poised, echoing.
Emphatic focus on the essential.
Seeing only what is real. I’m flowing
in a multitude of realms I create,
the drain of current narrative evade,
dismiss the shiny prize and walk away
into my powers, blooming, unafraid.
We choose which dreams to fuel when we awake.
No longer captive batteries, we sing
a new world into being. Above a drake
bursts raspy-barking twice. Sky opening.
How now brims over, every sense alight
knowing in subtle ways never taught, I’m
still and growing in this damp chill. All’s right.
Receptive: messages, insights and rhyme.
Inspired by: Emphatic, Inconsequential, Drain and Prize.
I drag despondent patterns outside sleep-
less under a benevolent sky. Why
do I cringe to harvest what’s planted deep
in the mindset I’ve cultivated? My
creations snug under this existence
laborious and weighted cogs–I pause
to rescue a frog who distrusts my dense
clumsiness, each attempt shows gaping maws.
He declines a frisbee, boogy board, net
at my behest, unwilling guest, each trap
a miracle perceived as certain death.
And how am I the same? Plucked out and tapped
and frozen under tiny wildflowers
who’ve pushed up from thick mulch to praise the day.
I breathe into the lessons. I devour.
I click. The frog has still not leapt away.
Inspired by: Benevolent, Harvest, Despondent and Behest.
Happy Day of Universal Peace and Galactic Freedom
This is a beautiful place, magical
bird messengers cajole the breeze. Solar
gifts are streaming down, sun gazing eyeful
I’m beside myself moving in pure flow
when I uncouple now from time’s driving
check in with my future self, this discrete
being an illusion, all that striving
just a game. Breathe in and out. Now repeat.
Inspired by: Magical, Cajole, Discrete, Driving and the Stream of Consciousness Saturday prompt: check/cheque/Czech.
How can I speak into cranky fear
simply, leaving the prolix soapbox?
Our awakening is unpredictable;
the AI masters gnash their teeth, perplexed.
Look into the fire in the sky,
dig fingers deep into our earth
mother running through our songs.
We breathe a symphony. As we assemble
onstage, so many sleepwalkers wander
out of tune. What joy as they rouse.
Fighting the cancerous cells, labeling
psychopaths in corrupt old systems
ancient and disintegrating in our light
feeds that dying flame, the silly
illusion of separation. No more!
That song has left the galaxy.
We hold space in the flowing ether
of unity. On the front porch,
a hummingbird hovers by the new feeder,
testing my intention. Love and service
even to these frazzled, triggered ones
plugged into the false web
just a song away from true harmonics
as we reconnect to the light
we are, allowing source
again and again, receptive, letting
go of judgment and arrogance because
we don’t know this immensity.
Welcome ourselves as we turn
into the music of now: awake, alight, aware.
Inspired by: Cranky, Fire in the sky, Unpredictable and Prolix. Featured image by Linda Stuart capturing a moment of me doing my favorite thing in the world.
First and foremost, we need to start celebrating life and stop fearing death. We need to evolve past our fear and find love.~Zach Bush
Unplugged, we sit deeply intentional
creating love and touching terminal
grounded, electric beings connect now
breathing the gift of life medicinal
Featured image Graham’s Hierarchy of Disagreement, a handy tool these days!
There I met an old man
Who wouldn’t say his prayers,
So I took him by his left leg
And threw him down the stairs.*
I postulate that now is when
we collaborate consciously
as a planetary being
guaranteeing our well-being.
The subtle realms ring true
while wretches longing, sing blues
bewailing the lockdown
prison bars break down
and isolate, each unvoiced
song that seeks to rejoice
silenced, the malice echoes
through the death rows
alive in our cells
we carry the spells
of ancient lineage writhing
rushing to church and tithing
to be free of the curse
we can see, pray the universe
will reimburse these good deeds,
knocking down the weeds
that separation frames
and names in childhood games,
the propaganda that we live and breathe
long before we show our teeth.
We’re locked in time.
We can be free
reach out your subtle hand,
tune in with me.
Inspired by: Collaborate, Postulate, Subtle and Wretch and the childhood rhyme (a form of propaganda) Goosey, goosey, gander*. Featured image taken in Chingaza National Park, Colombia.
We are but a moment’s sunlight fading in the grass.~Jesse Colin Young
In the dark this bugaboo looks new
but I know better. An ancient
shoot ramifies like cousins
branching from my grandpa’s siblings–
twelve in all. I’ve charted children
and marriages, winding through generations
to calculate relations. Thankful now
for my skill and motivated by love
I’m tracing the fear shouting through
the president, armed and proud in camo
the shouted slur and whispered denigrations.
Standing in opposition, murky and
addlepated by perceived separation.
Go far enough back and we’re all
family. I listen past the labels–
look, somebody’s gotta–to find
what continues to be excluded.
Let in the light of compassion
as I claim you and you and you
reflect what most needs love right now.
Inspired by: Ramify, Bugaboo, Thankful and Jesse Colin Young and The Youngbloods, Get It Together.(“Come on people now, smile on me, brother, everybody get together, try to love one another right now.”~Jesse Colin Young)