Yours from me, this namaska’r.
Cognance of who we really are.
A shape to hold when souls seem far.
One light, my comet and your star.
Archive for the ‘Poetry’ Category
Namaska’r
Wednesday, June 30th, 2010Winter Solstice
Tuesday, January 27th, 2009
When Black surrounds and muffs my sight,
Lead feet mush through tarry night.
When midnight throbs – Flash’d starlight!
This fog is Yours – warm chill, all-right.
As 123 As ABC
Tuesday, February 19th, 2008
I recently came across the blog of a long time muse of mine, Labi Siffre. I was once in a second-hand shop in Manchester and the cover of his 1972 album, “Crying, Laughing, Loving, Lying” called out to me to buy it…
I had never heard of him, and the record was a little scratched, but I took it home and haven’t stopped listening to it since. I even hooked up the record player to the computer so I could make mp3s. Some time later, I saw him perform a sublime set of music and poetry – on race, religion, politics and people.
When I came across his blog, Into The Light, I saw a stream of poetry… This one really caught my attention:
“life has no meaning without God” say many
but life has no meaning
full stop. period.life is the muse, the inspiration
equalled only by existence
and these wonders inspire us
FIRE us to meaningto not realize that is
profoundly
oddand the customary way
to flee
responsibility
Lost
Sunday, September 23rd, 2007
I lose myself in Your arms and the raindrops that fall onto the still water of Your heart. My fear washed away by the mossy dew of Your smile.
How long have I waited to lose myself? Only You know. And the distant light that glimmers in Your eye shares my secrets.
A river, carrying all water drops to the ocean, breathes a sigh of relief as it opens into the wide expanse of water where the memories of its journey are lost to a new presence. A vastness that envelops all fears and soothes them with soft murmurs like a mother to her child. (more…)
Words Unfurl
Tuesday, February 20th, 2007
I want to write and write and write.
Unfurl words,
curled like new ferns
inside me.
It is almost painful.
A joyful, beautiful pain
that breathes in
in-formation
through my senses.
Finally.
To pick up a pencil and
release, release.
Into this compact notebook
that promises to carry my dreams
on a sailboat into the night.
Oh, I just want to let them flow out
like rainwaters along the edges
of paved streets.
Flow out and trickle
into ears and eyes
and open like flowers
in moist mouths.
Moist mouths that kiss and whisper,
and relish shapes
of poetry.