I Am a TITAN, Solar Helmet Steady
I Am a Golden Phenom of Self Mastery,
Burning Bright, I Am a Diamond Soul of Opulence
Rising in Hyperborean Confidence,
I Am Heaven Blessed and Royally August
I Am Valiant, I Am Gallant, I Am Robust
I Am a Lion Blooded, Eagle Minded Conqueror
In Total Freedom My Wings Flutter,
Solo Ponderer, I Soul Cypher the Great Mystery
Tramping these Legendary Victories,
Kindling the Spark Of Hope, Ignites the Phoenix Epitome
Golden Born, I Rise Like Joshua Over Jericho
Fortified like Iron Pillars, I Stand Tall
Where the Stars are Blazing, Suddenly Blazon, Suddenly Enthralled
The Shine is of Jubilance
I Am Shimmering in Luminance,
Ecstatic and Exuberant
I Am a Phosphorescence Of Exuberance,
I Am Enlivened by the Resuscitation of the Searing Blaze
I Am Alive, I Am Sublime, I Am Stoic in Archaic Faith,
Star Gleaming, I Am a Metric Ton of Glorious Gold
Blazing the Noble Path of the Eight Fold,
Belief, it's an Absolute Must
Full Speed Ahead, the Inner Fire Combusts
This Luminous Torch Within I Trust
Got me Soul Drifting Wanderlust
To glance at the jagged hill is a dream
Just as I yearn to amble over its magma flow
Like a million salmon swimming up my bloodstream
I will see the Soufriere Hills, I just know
As the earth vented its seismic frustrations
many fled its tectonic conniption
That migration woke me from deep sedation
And my restless soul underwent a great decryption
There's a certain lure to a place with an "exclusion zone"
That makes me abjure my embrace of an old touchstone
There's a beguiling seduction to unremitting eruption
A smiling effluxion causing me to submit to its disruption
I've been a wayward wanderer
And a sojourner on a quest
I've been a perennial ponderer
And interminably, a seeker suppressed
But the moment I saw Montserrat
even only in a photographic image
I knew this was the place I had sought
to make my greatest pilgrimage
The death of a bird is the death of a song
Like the melody of its lasting breath
Sliced down from an invisible blade of the wind
The quietus of a bird defeats the entity of nature itself
The bereavement of this serenoa
Would bring dissolution upon the serenity
Of this calmness of peace
Even a soul-less renegade or heartless machine
Could enjoy this peace, list it a virtue
The cessation of the entity that was this
Winged small angel of animal
Not the end, but a new beginning
In its nest, its offspring has spread their wings
To continue the siren song of its nature
The sky is the limit, is the sweat visible on its face
Only the beating wings claim its words
Confidence, majestic, determined
But its ruination, the quietus, the bereavement
Which make the ponderer, wanderer wonder
Wonder what's the true meaning of the circle
Does it start with something living, end with an idea
Does the death of a bird equal the cessation of a melody
- cont. -
(Part 2 of 2)
& Finally, There Was Sir Gareth, The Young Wanderer
But, Where Are You, We Still Seek Thee Ponderer ?
There Was Moreno, Master of Moving Hearts (He’s So Adept)
& There Was Me … MoonBee, The Warrioress-Poetess
& Guarding At The Rear, Was Jedi-Jared Of Bold-Face
To Keep The Way Clear For Love & (Consuelo) To Embrace
& So Many Others, I Could Not Name For Space
So Many Great Treasure-Seekers In This Place !
We Met Thru Woods & Across The Seas
Dame Dane Ann, Was A Ladyhawk of Charity
So, We Filled Up Our Bags With Hope
& Other Things We Would Need To Cope
To Complete The Quest For The Treasures Of Kings
We Would Find On The Way, What We Didn’t Bring
See … We Have The Merry Band For Great Adventures
Behold ! … We Have All The Makings, To All Be Winners …
& Romp & Roll In The Treasures Of Kings
… In The Kingdom Of Love & Life & Dreams
… The MoonBee
barricade round him
afloat in the sea of pondering
I do not exist
i know i am a writer
a poet and ponderer
of thoughts and moods
i know that especially
when i sit solemn
melancholy
sure of it when
on a sunny perfect day
clouds are
puffy white cotton
breeze blowing cool
fresh tunes of
nearby leaves
yet i in a doleful daze
contemplate the irony
of the contentment
of the smiling desolate bum
under the bridge with
his three-legged scruffy mutt
and the misery of the polished
stuffy businessman
behind the wheel of his mercedes
at the light
his prized yapping poodle
snarling out of the window