we see, we sense, we imbibe
assimilation yet awaits
we need to become the vibe
to walk through heaven’s gates
when save essence of presence
there remains no one here
our aura is flecked with stardust
glimmers of truth then appear
The fox slopes warily into the garden,
a sapphire dawn overlay's and
sheens his form.
He trots across
a snow powdered clearing
head low, electric whiskers
seeking trace and track.
Crystalline eyes
turn toward a window
where I watch between
aquamarine icicles.
A white speckled snout
wrinkles in sudden awareness.
A quick curious stare,
then off he vaults
over a frost jeweled fence,
a bristled tail whisking
diamond flecked snowflakes -
blue diamonds.
sun, ripe citrus fruit
sapphire sky flecked with white clouds~
tarmac road steaming.
The rising sun sets day apart
Night walks with us but not afar
Along the bridge, our gilded heart
The rising sun
Lacustrine swans flecked by Earth's star
Sail on soft waves, awaking art
Pen scuds to greet the morning tsar
Wings spread, light piercing breasts, a dart
Arrows of love breaking the bar
Scenes of tarry night doth depart
The rising sun
Peace
A glorious morning in the bay of Cascais
seven coastal ships on a mirror.
Stilleben
Sunday, the crew are asleep
except for a cook who is up preparing
breakfast
This could be a picture of eternity
but a small motorboat breaks the mirror
leaves a white scar that heals itself
The sky is softly blue, and white clouds are
sun-flecked and in no haste going anywhere
on this day of bliss
resting in quietude we wait
for wisdom that dispels all doubt
uncertain for now seems our fate
nobody hears our soundless shout
present here now in this domain
endowed with senses five and mind
what we took as boon is now bane
unless heart glows, loving and kind
the truths we glimpsed were but a tease
when winds blow, we stand not erect
all we seek is our soul’s release
form fear flecked, in this realm shipwrecked
trapped in the open, free within
we’re enslaved by our heart’s desire
negating soul’s light is our sin
we turn to God, for we now tire
With mind the seat of intellect,
looking at parts that make the whole,
it can match not wisdom of heart,
sparking stardust, by bliss flakes flecked,
seat of soul, directing life’s role,
breath by breath adding love to cart.
Thoughts are useful but let them rest,
that fire of desire does not rage,
whence by shifting into the void,
choosing this way, to get undressed,
one with oneness, wise as a sage,
we become God’s light unalloyed.
Behold how pheromones mingle,
thus making our soul’s eye single.
we have been asked to police
contest entries for plagiarism
relying on unproven software
sponsors are expected to comply
to make judging somewhat fair
perhaps we need to introspect
why are contests floated at all
is it not to cajole poets to connect
sharing hearts musings intimate
that all be in their ink bliss flecked
is our story merely borrowed glory
how low has fallen our self-esteem
let’s be authentic, honest and bold
we each are unique in our own way
effuse soul’s emotes in hues of gold
Dawn rooster's crowing
red and gold cock of the walk
Flecked stars are fleeing.
Pink sky alarms are sounding
as stealthy night goes, creeping.
Perched at verge of day
is cock of the crystal clock.
Blooms are anywhere
on morning of fading moon,
when rouge sun frolics with June.
Tranquil heart exerts a calming effect
on agitated minds in ego’s bind,
exuding an effervescence bliss flecked,
steering one and all toward pathways kind,
head and heart aligned, both divine entwined.
Fragrance of flowers is a mating call,
drawing butterflies to scents they recall,
as bliss delight that makes easy its flight,
savouring pollen borne by a love squall,
teleporting presence to zenith height.
a demon appears and we are it
perhaps a remnant of our past
like a dying snake, it writhes awhile
however this nonevent will not last
perhaps there is no form we were not
it matters little now as we reflect
having embodied light of Self within
our luminous aura is love flecked
the winter of life...
the body slows and time shows
snow-flecked wear and tear.
They glisten and dazzle on the beach at night
on moonlight against light snow, they shimmer.
They sparkle, flicker like fire, or diamonds bright.
They guide your footsteps beneath starlight
soft against your toes as you wiggle your feet
when you sit on the sands aimless in the night.
You can feel them gently upon your hand
caress your fingertips as you do a lover,
to count the sands you need a magic wand.
This is a sand and shale beach where the surf boils
the ocean flecked with whitecaps of waves curling
a frenzied foam is dashed on shore to waters recoils.
How insignificant you are strolling idly on sands
but it feels good, and keeps your ego from inflating,
while your heart dreams of flying to distant lands.
@jjote022824
The sun will rise like a golden fish
over the far bank,
but for now
a cobwebbed sky
clings to the curling water.
This is the margin
where dawn issues
through nights last gleam
in ghostly drifts.
The dewy daylight arrives
a veiled lace flecked with gold.
Reeds rustle, stir a dark mud
into green ripples.
Dragonflies climb stems
to dry damp wings.
A standing heron appears,
its eyes are star-bright.
Mallards and Coots,
pluck mist from their plumage.
The day floods up
to paint itself
beneath high flying feathers
the hunter waits, gun at the ready,
but he will miss,
for the margin has hidden his aim
and it always will
in such magic moments.
innate creative power
limited by mind
imposes a bind
blocking grace shower
awareness self-aware
bliss replete
is complete
pulsating without a care
soul’s consciousness shift
with God connect
to be bliss flecked
gifts of silence that uplift
immediate and intimate
is the source
our resource
our heart heaven’s gate
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