Line of inquiry:
"hearts set up a vibration
echoing as wordless intent
mind translates in symbols
flight of our soul’s ascent
is intent then a stirring
of soul with God conferring"
My one heart as a part of humanity's great heart,
spiritually holds the indwelling God presence as sought.
A human hold shiftily slants and grows knots tied fraught
with false-held, gloomy feels that egos and fears impart.
Divine truths dawn in our souls thru imagination,
not from human workings but graces gifts in-working.
Imagination can stop fears from falsely out-working
and foil mankind's believed limits of false accreditation.
In still solitude, spiritual truths as held in our being
meet our consciousness, our divinity's hidden place
in which our indwelling Christ gives ALL with God's grace
and intellect joins intuition too seek a soul's true freeing.
Through spiritually held faith one is belief aligned
in God's power, greater than any fear episode
man may encounter or engineer to earth upload.
No one or thing can malign what our Father designed.
My faith would never crumble feeble as styrofoam
when the worst that could happen is I'd get to go home.
Somber light slants through the window.
The sun lazes behind blankets of clouds.
Grey skies are all I see.
A tranquil yet almost uneasy atmosphere
rests over everyone.
No one dares to shrug it off.
Today is a day for soft musing and true thoughts,
it's sobering and uplifting at the same time.
There will be no more doubts by the end of this day.
A chilly wind breezes over cool skin as
colors are dimmed and speeds are slowed.
Nothing resists the sleepy pull of these grey days.
This poem was mused by:
"Shakespeare won't look at me" by ThomasW.Case
----------------------------------- --------------------------------
We fill our lives with work and stress
in the lust for new possessions
we're taught that this is called success
and it makes for good impressions
But pleasures we’re taught to suppress
so our souls will fly up to the heavens
but this flesh that god has gifted us
are our only true possessions
If we find ourselves casually undre$$ed
which is frankly, our natural condition
and if s3xual needs should be addressed
there’s no need for tawdry confessions
for pleasure is something to be expressed
if we’re alone or in a marvelous coalition
So I wish you satisfaction in el@tions quest
as you work the knobs, slants and levers
because this isn’t some kind of competition
P.S. Will Shakespeare was familiar with m@sturb@tion's guilty thrills.
"The expense of spirit, in a waste of shame is lust in action"
.
.
For a contest. This poem was mused by:
"Shakespeare won't look at me" by Thomas_W._Case © Anais Vionet
.
.
A song for this:
Flowers by Miley Cyrus
Bronx cheers, muffled in December
‘The Boys of Summer’ have vanished
gone the way of the playground
ghosts of warmer climes
Slants of ice fill the empty stands
Cheers – or boos – reserved
for vagabonds
for drifting wads of paper
I'm walking with love,
I hear God above,
It's nativity,
Christ's life ... changed me,
Angst drain with a sieve,
I chose more to live.
First, it robbed my glow,
Then it stole my show,
War is at the end,
Clues are in the sand,
I looked everywhere,
It was always there.
Done talk, only give, (Refrain)
I chose more to live,
Hardhead, please forgive,
I decided to live.
Crazed slants far-fetched love,
My heart's like a glove,
Be gold and save me,
Your light set me free,
You need not worry,
Just read my story.
Done talk, only give, (Refrain)
I chose more to live,
Hardhead, please forgive,
I decided to live.
I know that you love me,
I know that you care,
There is nobody,
That loves me I swear,
Done talk, only give, (Refrain)
I chose more to live,
Hardhead, please forgive,
I decided to live.
Yes I am walking
Down that road of mine,
Baby, I'm coming,
My story divine.
suddenly bare branches
sway and shiver
shiver and sway, outstretched
in vain
to December's flares
stunted grass shoots
deign not wave
to howling winds
their lawns daily prowl
icy slants of rain
piercing bare heads
autumn’s roses gone missing
color them dead
COUPLET
After a couple of Tequila Sunrise
so I swap my drink that'll keep open my eyes
so I had a glass of Kahlua and cream
that's a blunder as I fell into a dream
INNER RHYME
I awoke that felt like a cape of good dope
morning sun I think of myself as undone
but what finds me amiss is what all of this
all awry the land slants slights but not the sky
END RHYME
No matter where I roam sand sea smells like home
glad I be if it's true but sad though I knew
a place that's all new naught a place where I grew
I walk and I moan knowing I am alone
RHYME
Flowers of blinding beauty scents that steal souls
sandy beaches where surf surges and tides ebb
eddibles and delectables island naturals
but minus the faces I know ease my schlep.
KEY: H: Heart h: hearth
h: I can see footsteps coming close to me a mile away but if they stand in front of me, the noise will be blinding.
h: I stand flat-footed on my bedboard perpendicular to my body. Beyond my pane, are the viewpoints on life from the many. 'His slants differ from my own.
He constantly reminds me that when he's out of prison, he'll find me and get me.
H: But he's standing right there.
h: But he won't do anything.
H: Why not?
h: His parole officer is standing behind him.
H: But it's a woman?
h: His mother.
H: Oh, making certain that her son stays on the straight and narrow, eh!
h: Ohh! You are a right smart person--she's his lookout!
The mind is a traveller,
on an earnest quest apart,
link road to the innermost,
signpost for bold hunch,
meaning is a hazy sky,
lay-by as mere pause,
quietly we trudge in tight bands,
but never wonder why?
time doesn’t play that well,
showing few if any paths,
language can be strained,
notions, slants, angles, terms,
tangled oxymoron at risk,
stifling broad consensus,
world weary air a plague,
night shift, day shift,
life belt for the toiler,
spoken in camp phrases,
that spur to vocal fringe,
who might alter vacuums,
now passively endured
Written: November 03, 2023
________________________________________
Ambrosia-colored slants shine and gaze within.
With delight, watch the white embers spin.
Sifting through waves of serenity and quiet.
That rustling across the heavens is reliant.
In this outpouring of glorious radiance,
I believe we all require authentic shadiness.
A place where the soul may rest in peace.
We pray every night; carnage must cease.
This unchanging mood is shared by nature.
Greeting everything with eager prayer
Holding every bit of grass, heating each stone.
With a dazzling embrace and a beaming tone.
The velocity of the world ceased to blur.
Whispers of eager voices rustle and spur
Drafts of leading vitality reach the soul.
The era we are in currently is rich and full.
Dreams drift in the air akin to wisps of wind.
The depths of inner reach are being blind.
Silent cries blend with an aesthetic melody.
As rising goals meet broad esoteric parody.
Through Garreg-Wen’s nomadic hearth, we grew
and waned like lichen’s stole on Moel-y-Gest.
Her lustrous tablet’s cleaved expanse possessed
our sacred streams. Where plasma sands, in lieu
of blood’s endured aspects – our angled view –
was figured, flawless: all we knew. North-West
Nirvana’s alien tongues recite the pest
of castle’s: tourist’s transient blight; so too,
ewe’s balk like doubtful dunes. Idyllic slants
in callow youth, discern, so seldom, tints
beyond the rosy realm of spectrum’s scant
surmise: stars, not blinkered by levant,
lost streetlights. Night’s insight may not imprint
the shape of time that teary-eyed stars grant.
Winter kisses blown from the whimsical side of my heart
as the snowflakes dance in the light of day, I dream
of castles in the sky and angels all aglow in snow;
Feathered wishes as light as flakes
I love the way sunlight slants and shakes
the child in me is wide awake
Winter blessings sewn together on this January month
when the snowfall carpets the ground like a gown
the silence turns golden and my heart is light
Downy thoughts of wintertime
I hear the church bells chime
sounding so sublime
Winter spells of magic my eyes have seen the view
I love winter how about you ?
Sponsor Mark Toney
Contest Name 2022 Poetry Marathon Mile 25
What Ant Troops Surrender
Field ants
yield pants
Field Ants as Farmers
Field ants
yield plants
Jack’s pet peeve
“Black ants!”
Jack rants
All the Survivalist could Find
Black ant -
snack scant
For an Ant Vacation
Black ants
pack pants
“Run Run Run” & “Creep Up Fast”
Thief Ants’
Chief chants
What Mac Won’t Put with Cheese
Black ants?
Mac can’t!
Good Thing to Know about a Restaurant
We can’t
see ants
When Ants climb
Higher slants
tire ants
What He Doesn’t Know Won’t Kill Him
Pete can’t
eat ants
Nov. 1, 2022
for 'A BRIAN STRAND PREMIERE CHOICE' Poetry Contest
First star I see tonight
I wish I may, I wish I might
Be visited by beautiful sprite
My mist-laden dreams to light
A smile like a summer day
A thought of you blows the clouds away
Tolerating my babbling bray
You’re thoughts on show like a whirling ballett
The speed of rhyme goes up
Out of flying fingers words erupt
Trying to describe you’re close-up
In wakeful dreams your face I cup
Moral codes one and the same
Even though it might seem tame
It will keep us high above the shame
And gently kindle the tender flame
Queen without being seated on a throne
Beneath beautiful face beautiful heart shown
Gently smiling soul without a clone
My every barrier overthrown
Almost a rant
Becoming a chant
Off course this poem slants
And it falls
Quote: I don't want a perfect life I want a happy life
Children tumbling out of bed
coffee dripping from my old faded percolator
Stockings hanging from the shower curtain
mother's laughter from across the miles
Husband's wet kisses and the shuffle of feet
scraped toast, slamming front doors
The smell of mulched leaves
the way the sun slants over my kitchen window
I don't want a perfect life, just a happy one
Empty cafes and smokescreen writes
pulp fiction and doggie smiles and treats
eggs over easy and difficult puzzles to solve
hugs and kisses and fun between the sheets
tea for two, I love Lucy, and more dreams
then I can ever dream of, ...just a happy life,
nothing more
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