PHOSPHORIMENTAL

Men Entering Women

Posted on April 11, 2015 by skipavm@gmail.com

He tried to tie her to the bed with the clothing
wrangled from her writhing
But it was he who was ensnared by her flesh.
She laughed at him
as he became impotent during the battle.
It seems a man will wear himself out
trying to enter the realm of a woman
when he is unable to see the real door to her heart,
no matter how naked they get.

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Words are Rolling Stones

Posted on April 11, 2015 by skipavm@gmail.com

Words are rolling stones
that clatter in the stream of time.
Any of we, parched or quenched,
sip at the waters edge and listen to them
purling and purling, sublime
till their edges rounded by translation
turn rock to sand, like grape to wine.

Precise words of ancient mystics
passing over falls and out to sea
Who can ever say anything for sure
about a mystic, who himself says,
who is He

“who says words with my mouth.” (Rumi)

Let’s never lose sight of the poetry
through the veil of a poem that’s so pronounced.

Maulana is a single breeze
Carrying a multitude of scents
Sensual words are metaphors for meaning
that are they, themselves,
metaphors for sensuality
Names within names
for a singularity.

There is only one pure text…
and each of us individually hears its truth.
It is written on the walls of the heart
In strokes of blood, there in the dark,
Its mystery, being its only proof.

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Another Morning Awoken by Night

Posted on April 11, 2015 by skipavm@gmail.com

I hear a first whistle of a bird
just before the dance of dawn.
And dew drips down
The cat tongued blades of
a softening sprawling lawn

Humming bread truck in the distance
makes its way toward a loading dock
behind a humble store bakery
with a donut for a wall clock

Tangent to the arc of a hesitant sun rising,
the air begins to eddy,
swirling through the porch door screen,
hissing, java ready, steady

There is a subtlety in the rising chorus
of kisses between the new spring leaves…
waking the budding flowered branches
whispering harmoniously on a breeze

Turning dreams stroke the linen…
white and twisted all about
and through it, our skin
slight shiver within
by this morning, we are bound

You stir gently, to again drift off
And I am so in love…
This suburban morning aviary,
Persistent cooing of a dove

Sunlight ripens from cerulean to rouge
And curls its streams all over you
and the morning murmurs sleepily,
as a new day rinses off the dew

Another morning’s awoken by night, which
shepherds our hearts to slumber.
This eternal reprise of celestial cycles
Love arrives to allay the night
in dawns awaiting wonder.

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Parindey

Posted on April 11, 2015 by skipavm@gmail.com

Only a wind whines
Here in my heart
Where ghosts once sojourned
They’ve all departed
Since you arrived
Since you stepped through

These eyes are doors
To wider shores,
So green, once blue
Now brown as yours.

Sometimes a strangers light arrives
To show itself, or you, despite
your tear choked stealth
That fruitless, tries
To run, resist, be still and hide

So fell a feather from the sky
From wing of a beloved passerby
So many hues within this plume
I thought it leaped off reposeful perch
from the cradle of a crescent moon.

A while longer, may you stay
O’ lovely pining parindey
But if you must return to sea,
I’ll sew more feathers to my wings
And join you, when you fly away.

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Posted in love poems, Poems Beyond Their Words, poetry | 3 Comments

Sated Reflections

Posted on February 23, 2015 by skipavm@gmail.com

Let’s not run from reflections
Whether they be of you, or me
Whether by light or mirror glow
By whom its shown or who it shows
Be it my darkness or flattery.

To recite what is in one’s true heart
Is the sound of a rose opening,
Reddening stealth of its petals felt
Open, for rainwaters gathering.

From one’s lips, another sips
The others poem, a cup
In which to pour, their other’s evermore
Can another’s other ever fill enough.

And should that rose be clipped or closed,
Tilt its flower and fall to earth
Be nothing wasted, in reflections tasted,
by bud to bloom, all love is birth

Beauty makes the heart lose balance,
Spins circles in the foam of the mind
’Tis not important which turn is last
be it hoops of hope, or rings of past
All soulful gaze, through unknown waves,
Is forever remembered as a fragrance cast.

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Posted in love poems, Poems Beyond Their Words, poetry | 7 Comments

Even In Shadows, Lights Work Is Never Done

Posted on February 20, 2015 by skipavm@gmail.com

The world is in a soft descent
As henchmen bend away from dawn
toward their cowardly silhouettes.
With the pull of a trigger or slice by the blade
The stage of tragedy is set
Upon their chests the black stone laid.

Three new stars appear in the darkening sky
Above the scattered flames of the sun
Nefarious actors take no rest
But even in shadows,
lights work is never done.

I see 3 everywhere, and 21, 40 missing, and 141,
and thousands upon thousands
As many stars as sweet souls there are
From each death, another candle lit
By a cold black murderers match
struck, then dropped, to Jahannam sent,
their cloaks of death, expended, rent.

Innocent victims as gems amassed
From bright varied palettes and colors, cast
by dying breath, lifts a shroud,
shifts the night by radiant cloud
Until that black flag, itself,
is blotted out.

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Posted in poetry | 1 Comment

The Waiting Rings of Time

Posted on February 14, 2015 by skipavm@gmail.com

Waiting in my memory
Its gentle waves are calling me
For I was cut from eroding shore
To oceans edge for evermore

Never a sight had crossed my eyes
So vast a nexus, land and sky
and sea. Transfixed so there I stood
In briny sand and drifting wood

While still, each visage yet untamed,
Each piece of wood, not one the same.
To touch them all, I sought to soothe
With salted kisses, lay them smooth

There among the writhing forms
I walked barefoot and weather worn
While each piece begged my presence stay,
Another hurried me on my way

What could quench this thirsting gaze,
Lo, is all for destination’s sake?
I beg for but a moment longer,
for all these twisting paths to ponder

I too am driftwood on the beach
A wilting flower within your reach
One day You’ll have me by Your side
and unbury my waiting rings of time

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Posted in Poems Beyond Their Words, poetry | 6 Comments

The Pebble of Niyat (Intention)

Posted on February 12, 2015 by skipavm@gmail.com

Inspiration is everywhere
Like sand from the beach flying off your heals
still you’ve no idea where a single grain is;
It is not around you, but within,
Where there is not a where.

So then where are you running my friend?

Your niyat is like a pebble within a shoe,
it can change the course of mankind
with little more
than a minor discomfort.

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Posted in Poems Beyond Their Words, poetry, Short Stuff | 2 Comments

How long to write a poem: Twenty Five Words Toward the Truth is…

Posted on February 11, 2015 by skipavm@gmail.com

A collection of 25 word short poemettes that were inspired by something; or they are simply petals fallen from the rose, clipped from the thorns.

Sometimes 120 seconds to jot, sometimes an hour to write, sometimes years to finish… but I never completely understand a single one of these poems.

With mere seconds to write, a poem then becomes a slow growing youth; whenever I reread my own, it needs more guidance, pruning, allegorical fine-tuning.

In my mind, the pen gets in the way. Poetry is really, for me, finding the shortest possible distance from my heart to the keyboard.

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Posted in poetry, quote, Short Stuff | 7 Comments

Poverty and Pride

Posted on January 26, 2015 by skipavm@gmail.com

“Faqr Fakhri”

The poverty of the heart,
empathizes with the lonely, the downtrodden.
For it shares what little it has,
and the less it has,
the more valuable what it gives becomes.
I’ve only one thing,
there is no other,
so who can be poor,
when choosing one among one,
and receiving it all?

I am the poor scribe of my own soul.
A wealthy writer
wields a pauper’s pen…
for only that kind of thirst
could draw up the ink
from the unfathomable well of the divine.

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Posted in Poems Beyond Their Words, poetry | 7 Comments

PHOSPHORIMENTAL

Men Entering Women

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Words are Rolling Stones

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Another Morning Awoken by Night

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Parindey

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Sated Reflections

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Even In Shadows, Lights Work Is Never Done

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The Waiting Rings of Time

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The Pebble of Niyat (Intention)

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How long to write a poem: Twenty Five Words Toward the Truth is…

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Poverty and Pride

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