TRIUMPH OF SPIRIT IN LOVE, NATURE & ART

Posts tagged “Poetry

Springtime Reflections

Spring sunset reflections
Of a late dusk
In the twilight of life


Night Visions

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I look up and
my head swims
with delight
making me giddy
with awe.
So humbled
one being
like all others
on this earth
gazing heaven toward
under a canopy
of stars.
Diamonds
with infinitesimal degrees
of infinite distance.
Each a quiet distant world
in one of endless galaxies
in one of endless universes
in one of untold possibilities.


Illusion Crumbles

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Age has crept up on us

like a thief in the night

I think

as I watch the clock hands

remain stuck on 1:30

as I wait

in the third doctor’s office

in six days

with my newly retired husband

ill again

with the illness

that drove him

from his beloved work

with the poorest of the poor

mentally ill

and I wonder

as I worry

about him

how did he do it

and why

and why

did he marry me

taking my major mental illness

as a dowry

and I wonder

how did it happen

that we got so old

we look at people

30 years our junior

on the TV

in the waiting room

and think ourselves

like them

but we are not

old age has crept in

like a thief in the night

were we always broken

cast under a veil

of delusion

which now becomes

seen at times

as bodies

fall ill

and age creeps in

are we finally seeing

the unreality of the “reality”?

 

 


Seeking God in New York City

DSCF8435_edited-1Riverside Park and Trapped Nature

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Political Wall

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Customer in Local Coffee Shop Window

***

Twinkling stars, infinity sky
no longer can I see,
blinded by the might of
fierce night light in the city.
Now the universe  appears
behind closed eyelids
unbound by hour on the clock.
Energy fields in the sky of day
once transported me instantly,
now I battle noise and numbers
in the megaphone metropolis.
My private piece of sky to see,
sitting in the summer sun,
in the backyard playland,
sits now in memory
along with the macro world
of insects underfoot.
The infinity of the terrestrial lawn,
now is writ on microscopic cells
inside my convoluted brain.
Our little piece of paradise
Our little barn for sale
Home now the concrete jungle.

I will find God here, too,
amid the traffic and the trash
Overcrowded cities can
team with spirituality
as manifest in Mother India,
satsangs to the barking dogs,
insistent horns
streets full of homeless.
Here, too, a camp
one block away
reminds one of the blessings
of a dwelling and food to eat
and humbles one
amid serenades
not of crickets
but of sirens
and the cooing of pigeons
or the sweetness of a sparrow.
T’is true the Divine
is manifest in nature,
easy to see there
everywhere
but He dwells here, too,
in the rat filled streets
among the humble
somehow majestically in
the lowest of the low,
I would I could see Him in
the Sadhus of New York City.
His mighty kingdom
lies within the Self
bursting within the heart.

Have mercy on me, oh God,

and please open my heart

to the Compassion within!


The Grace of Presence

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Oh, God,
your gentle breezes
caress my physical form.
I have been sick,
Pill sick
Mentally sick
Soul sick
for so long,
Overwhelmed by fear,
selfish concerns,
physical ills.
What has changed today?
How come today
I can see beyond the self
To the Self?
Is it so mundane
as to be due to a coolness waft of air?
Or is it a taste of infinity?
A wormhole to your realm?
An undeserved dollop of grace?
You are inside always
and yet so often I cannot feel you
at all!
And I lapse into despondency,
anxiety,
preoccupation with the self,
the person,
the ego.
Why today can I see Thee
In the galaxy of stars within?
Why today?
How can I keep this view
Of you?
Despite problems, illness,
please take me over,
please let me see
Thee daily within.
Please let me love you
and all who live
with wild abandon
and the diamond dazzle of compassion,
without restraint.
Tears cleanse
make amends
for my many sins,
Oh, Zephyr of air,
wafting with the perfume
of the Divine
that permeates
all.
Please stay
forever in my heart,
and blow away
fears and tears
and usurp
the self forever!


The Magic of Moonlight

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I miss the soft siren call

of the slinky moonlight,

the velvety voice of the moon

as she beckons to me

in the middle of the night

with her hypnotic magic

wielded in the wee hours.

I miss her enticing ways

calling forth

the howling of coyotes

echoing over the hills.

I miss the shadows

of the moonlight

as she luminates

the dark and empty road

and leaves behind a trail of shadows.

Cooped up in the city

nothing calls to me at 3AM

save little lights on

in the cubby holes

of the apartment house

across the street.

No slinky siren song sings

nor misty magic.

No coyotes howling here,

just the loud voices of drunks

stumbling home

in the harsh glare of streetlights.

“In the Hebrides of Scotland, it was common practice well into the nineteenth century for men to take off their caps to greet the morning sun and for women to bend their knee in reverence to the moon at night.  These were the lights of God.  They moved in an ancient harmony that spoke of the relationship of all things.  And they witnessed also to the eternal rhythm between the masculine energies and the feminine energies that commingle deep in the body of the universe.  The Celts were familiar also with the practice of being guided by the creatures.  The birds of the air, the fish of the sea, the animals of the earth had not lost their senses.  They were viewed as still being alive to the deepest rhythms of  creation and to the interrelationship between all things.”  (“Christ of the Celts” by J. Philip Newell)


 


The Secrets of Winter

DSCN3570_edited-3Sweet winter melancholy

assuages my soul

with its

bare branches 

reaching Godwards

and 

its subdued light

speaks of the Almighty

in silent whispers

that are drowned out by sunlight

and the mania of summer.


Chi flows, Wind Blows

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Wind blows

through tree tops

bird song

wafts in breeze

flying

dead branches

fine perches

dragonfly on leg

don’t move

admire

just be

like tree

see chi

in air

spark-like

specks

tiny lights

Chi flows

wind blows


Secret Spaces

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The cool of green shade

steps to a secret place

locked doors of a shed

the innocence of childhood lost

in a matter of minutes

and no one knew

for years and years and years

dare break the silence even now

Grandpa did a naughty

and it remained

forgotten for years

until you shared your story

of what happened to you

there were other times

of lesser evil

but sketched in memory

enough to sting

even now

so many decades later

I have forgiven

but no longer forgotten

from so early in life

I adored him

the trust

etched deep wounds

though the misdemeanors minor

by most standards

just enough to give pause

if I see a secret place

all too inviting

for the sins

of

a forbidden intimacy

just enough to

add guilt and shame and fear

where they do not belong

inside me

in stillness

in the shade


Confessions of a Distant Peeping Tom

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A child guard, a tied curtain…

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A single mystery…

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Multiple mysteries…

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Eeeerie figures…

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Pink curtains (one pair knotted), flower pots, fans and pizza boxes…

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A sense of history…

*

I always wonder

feel the drama

of

worlds behind windows

and

wish I could

peep into other people’s lives

not just from curiosity

but

in some effort

to figure out my own.


heavenly charisma

Just wanted to share one of Marlyn’s beautiful posts on her blog, Klintal— they are all great but this one is so special.

eKintal

heavenly charisma

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The Hum of Life

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The reverberations of love

jump across time and space

to another receptive heart

*

The reverberations of suffering

resound around the earth

picked up by open souls in prayer

*

The reverberations of Aum

most sacred of sounds

pulses through our minds in meditation

*

Love brings the possibility of loss

Suffering brings a totality of pain

Aum brings the reality of God within


Denizens of the Deep

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The marsh is melting

and

all the turtles in their hibernacula

deep down under the melting ice

will soon emerge

and the marsh will sing

the chorus of the Spring Peeper

and the salamanders will emerge

with the urge to murge

and joy and the life force

will fill the air

and lift the fog

enveloping my soul.

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Away in a Manger

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Unmistakable pride

in the smile

on the mother’s face

bonding with her

babe asleep beside her

in utter security

in utter trust

of their caretakers

unknowing of their future fate

at the bloody hand

of man.


The Silent Cathedral

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Listen

to the silence

of the trees

they communicate

in ways

 science knows not

yet

and

the fog and the snow and the mist

 the incense

suffusing

 the silent cathedral


Treatise on Rumi II


The Consciousness Stream

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Look carefully below

to see the stream flowing

in between the tangle of greens

and the landscape of rocks

*

Look carefully within

to hear the whispers of God

in between the jangle of loud thoughts

and the overgrowth of emotions

*

Heaven lies in the quiet

trickling like a stream

through the spaces of the silence


The Backyard Circus

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Did you ever stop to think

what it is like

to hang mid-air from a leaf’s edge

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or to glide along a leaf

blowing in the breeze–

or crawl upside down

upon veined slopes of green?

O

or to give’s one’s all

to a loved one

stories high from the ground

hanging onto her for love

and dear life?

*

Such feats go on all day long,

ignored by you–

our talents unacknowledged–

because we are lowly creatures in your eyes

and yet we can do

acrobatic feats

you cannot even approximate.

*

Did you ever stop to think?


The Night Light Show

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Tiny, twinkling stars

suffering loneliness,

fall from the sky

and become fireflies,

flickering on and off

among the trees

calling for a mate,

lighting the night sky

and exciting vision

with twinkling

and flashing lights

and one is not sure

which is which

so bewitched are we

by the show of Light.


Flutterbies

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Tread lightly

for  the wings of angels

flutter by our souls

as we plod on

in our own worlds

often unawares

of the Heaven inside us

because of the Hell of our thoughts.


A Hug Without Arms

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Do they think because

we have no arms

we do not hug?

Do they think because

we have smaller brains

we do not love?

*

We hug

neck to neck,

chest to chest,

coat to coat,

in a warm embrace

of pure love,

a love as pure

as theirs,

perhaps more so.

*

They think

we do not love

because it makes it easier

for them to drug us

for so-called sports,

for their so-called fun,

and race us past injury,

and, yes, they even kill us

for their gustatory pleasure.

*

All we want to do

is love our families

and run free.

But we are willing

to serve them

if they treat us right.

*

Now I ask you:

who here is superior?


The Leaf Devoured

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Water droplets magnify

the verdant veins

 through which

the life giving  blood flows

through which

the life giving source

that keeps

giving life

 keeps

life going

despite the wear and tear

of an alien attack

by a catapulting caterpiller

that offers another creature

 a world within world

in which to live.

Despite

bitten tears,

bitter tears,

the leaf will live green

through the summer

and then shrivel to crimson,

life blood draining

and it will cry no more

as it drops dead

from the branch

where it lived

for a few short months.


Heresay Hear Today

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In

sin

u

ation

over

what

Katy

did

or

didn’t

do

to

Dahlia

is

here

say

prattle

of

goss

i

ping

blooms

filled

with

en

vy


The Stealth Kiss

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Unseen by a background of fellow flowers

 he rushed towards her purple petals

to plant the blossom of her bosom

with a kiss

when

blew a breeze

that steathily stole his kiss,

before she ever knew, sending it wafting

 above the treetops to the forever fields of lost loves.