Inspiring Moments
Inspiring moments, sending grace,
lifting spirits and warming face,
connection made, to make you whole,
rays of light to fill your soul.
Sunday, February 22, 2015
Saturday, February 21, 2015
Valley Bridge at Twilight
Photo Credit: Deviant Art - http://dreaervin.deviantart.com/art/Under-the-Bridge-192157521
Valley Bridge at Twilight
Fishing under the Valley Bridge,
where I’ll take my son today,
beneath the old wooden structure,
in shadows our rods will prey.
The dusty road down the canyon,
was very steep and full of turns,
but didn’t stop our excitement,
nor did burden our return.
Village secret, ancient wonder,
monolith of sturdy fame,
big wide arches on either end,
Roman middle was its claim.
Aqueduct of Segovia,
in brilliance before us stood,
with seventy-two small arches,
double stacked and made of wood.
In the early morning sunrise,
twilight in Northern Cali,
that furnished our bridge in shadow,
and hushed a sleeping valley.
A train whistle breached the distance,
from up north near the quarry,
I then turned to my son and said,
“I’d like to tell you a story.”
We sat down near the rivers edge,
to watch the oncoming train,
its smoke rose over the mountain,
its weight already a strain.
I began to tell the tale,
that my father told to me,
passed down to each generation,
since our store had come to be.
It began with bridge construction,
horse and buggy ruled the day,
the towns were being connected,
by sched-ule without delay.
The owners were in a hurry,
seems progress wouldn’t be stopped,
the bridge was to be completed,
so they worked around the clock.
The iron horse was there early,
its giant size widened eyes,
packed up in the cars that followed,
large bank vault, and town supplies.
The railway owner, livid,
emerged, from special caboose,
“What’s the delay now conductor?”
he groaned like a bullish moose.
“Well, the bridge is not completed,
we’ll have to wait a while”,
spit the tobacco assistant,
to his boss so full of guile.
“This train is to move by sundown!
and that’s all the time you’ve got”,
the heritor slammed his door shut,
spooked horses now distraught.
The town gathered at the station,
waving flags and cheering on,
then in a thunderous moment,
the train was up and gone.
The bridge crew were almost finished,
when sun set that afternoon,
the iron track wasn’t ready,
and the train left way too soon.
The valley drop was steep and sharp,
gave accelerated speed,
river below drowned out the sound,
no warning for them to heed.
Brakes engaged like screeching nails,
the thunder heard was numbing,
focused on the tracks ahead,
they just never saw it coming.
Years had passed with village mourning,
when bridge was propped and finished,
each arch was engraved with a name,
their essence never diminished.
It is said that when the sun sets,
and angel rays touch that bridge,
you can see their moving figures,
to the right there on the ridge.
Your great grand dad was there that day,
just opened the family store,
saved his money from rail camps,
and laboured with sledge no more.
-------------------------------
4th Edit Jan 30, 2021
Thursday, February 19, 2015
The Forest of Dreams in Consciousness
Photo Credit: Deviant Art
The Forest of Dreams in Consciousness
In forest dreams and consciousness,
the universe unfolds,
along bright stairways of knowledge,
where storied truths are told.
Each level a grand finally,
each step a secret place,
the road to your awakening,
awaits for your embrace.
It begins with Psilocybin,
mushrooms portal flowers,
expanding soul and consciousness,
mind that it empowers.
Your awareness exponential,
as mind becomes awake,
in natures room a catalyst,
to see that which is fake.
Hooded beacons await you there,
sentinels for each stride,
so do not be afraid of them,
they’re there to be your guide.
Just follow your intuition,
it’s what connects your soul,
a part of forest essence,
and that which makes you whole.
Dig deep the dazzling wonders,
where light unfolds for you,
a universe of consciousness,
with forests to go through.
--------------------------------
2nd Edit Oct 24, 2020
About this Poem: The poem, “The Forest of Dreams in Consciousness” was inspired by the Deviant Art Photo above that was found in a poetry contest on AP. It was first written in couplet form (rough draft) but I have now edited the poem to rhyming stanza form to smooth out the flow.
Terence McKenna clearly came to my mind when I saw the
photo. I think he would have approved of this poem. He was a great explorer of
human consciousness and the realms within that connect us to the universe. The
poem is also a confirmation of my own experience with mushrooms when I was 19.
Sunday, February 8, 2015
Midnight Dreams
Photo Credit: Deviant Art
Midnight Dreams
The tree swing moved in silence,
on graceful thrusts of air,
and silver gown was swaying,
on the vision sitting there.
Late summers night was dreamy,
full moon hidden by clouds,
auroras on forest lake,
reflecting satin shrouds.
Healing air filled with lyric,
in earthly poetic psalm,
an atmosphere inviting,
so tranquil, serene and calm.
Umbral shades of forest black,
greets solstice evening night,
join in song with the vision,
and dance their way to the light,
Joyful meetings part the clouds,
stars and universe aligned,
illuminating essence,
to weave this conscious mind.
Glowing thoughts of radiance,
before my eyes in sleep,
a vision gift of midnight dreams,
assurance for me to keep.
----------------------------
2nd Edit: 2020, Oct 11
Saturday, February 7, 2015
Our Little Miracle
Photo Credit: Deviant Art: http://baxiaart.deviantart.com/art/Abandoned-380571423
Our Little Miracle
Spring arrived early that year, in our little village of
Rome,
as migration came much sooner, and livened up our home,
Life worked out a miracle, after the doctors we did phone,
and our family tree grew bigger, the couple no longer alone.
Just out back in our garden, where the family oak tree
stood,
was a wicker basket carriage, with a white frilly hood.
There inside smiling, was our pride, and next generation,
our newborn baby girl, who would inherit our plantation.
My wife and I stood there, our arms around each other,
Smiling at our little one, who looked just like her mother.
If only dad were still with us, your mum, and father too,
We could take a family picture, while the flowers are in
bloom.
The morning mist was lifting, as the birds were in full
song,
they gathered in the trees above as more birds joined along.
Then landing on the carriage sides, two sparrows began to
play,
their chirping brought more laughter, and chased the morning
grey.
The clouds dissolved and parted, as the sun shone down its
rays,
and there above the carriage, was a glow that seemed to
stay.
Our little girl was looking up, something made her smile,
as if someone were standing there, talking to her a while.
I grabbed my little camera, took a picture of the beautiful
sight,
I swear we saw three figures, winged, and filled with light.
And just as quick they vanished, as the clouds returned the
shade,
But deep inside, my wife and I, knew who came that day.
Thursday, February 5, 2015
Valleys
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Valleys
The last days of summer, descend uneasy skies,
merging mountain and valley beyond in twilight.
Crimson nebulous shrouds give promise of return,
as warmth embraces my soul, and says goodbye.
Thoughts grace reflection as mirrors looking back,
engaging heartfelt moments and happier times.
All appears as yesterday, some moments forever,
these treasures locked away from long ago.
Faded smiles return, with longing thoughts of home,
travelling to scenes in old black and whites,
they play on my mind and nourish my soul.
Essence flickers recognition from guarded reaches,
filling a melancholy heart with happiness.
Cherished friends no longer here,
family come back to life,
now bathed in empathy and protected,
where time never ends,
We embrace our moments together once again.
Autumn has arrived, and in brilliant colour,
trees rain their creative souls upon the ground.
A mosaic of splendour and abundance,
freely given as an offering to the essence of nature.
Benediction and thanks for granting substance and life,
but leaving its soul exposed to harsh elements.
A dusting of thoughts engage brilliant seasons,
where conscious smiles forever shining, gaze.
We once painted infinity with laughter and song,
a montage of energy in the celebration of being,
heard and recorded by time and moments made,
to play here, in the valleys of radiant memory.
The sun now falls and sets on autumn skies,
winter arrives, cold with life’s sacrifice,
when tree’s nod off to sleep on seasons ending.
Natures guardians stand firm and strong to the elements,
defiant, proud and upright with deep roots to life,
they vow to reawaken with springs rebirth.
I nod my agreement with noble promise, well made,
and pledge my covenant of remembrance,
to those that hold my conscious spirit,
returning back to times before, I gladly affirm.
When the last sun goes down, in the winter’s eve of my life,
we will again meet, in those treasured moments,
to repaint valley skies with our spirit and essence,
together once again, we will be home.
--------------------------
This Poem was inspired by a very moving composition by
artist and composer John Sokoloff called “Valleys”
John Sokoloff – Official Website
John Sokoloff - YouTube
John Sokoloff -
World United Music
http://worldunitedmusic.blogspot.com/2010/06/john-sokoloff.htmlWednesday, February 4, 2015
Estuary of Life
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Estuary of Life
Mist swells in perfect reflection on estuary's mirror,
held in place by the chill of the air.
Dawn peaks on the horizon,
its rays held back by rising fog.
Thrilled sounds of the geese are heard making ready,
as they offer their prayers to god above.
Echoes from the forest join their hymn,
as all make ready to greet a nebulous morning sky.
Excitement builds to hushed thunder,
by the beat of ten thousand wings,
in reply to the silence,
and a new song lifts into the air.
Hearts racing, beating faster in joy and jubilation,
they carry my spirit in tow,
raising me up with them in celebration of life,
a oneness with the universe,
and the river of life goes ever on.
------------------
Music brings image and emotion together in ones mind and as
I reflect on the brilliant piece of music by Dirk Maasson “The River” I’m
reminded of the Estuary of Life and the magic nature holds.
Dirk Maassen - River
Dirk Maassen – Official Website
BUY MUSIC
Dirk Maassen - Bandcamp
https://dirkmaassen.bandcamp.com/Tuesday, February 3, 2015
Vision of Beauty
Adolphe Étienne Piot (1850-1910), Femme dans un manteau
(1871),
Oil on canvas, 40 x 52 cm. Via Sotheby’s.
Vision of Beauty
A vision of beauty imprisons me,
I'm overwhelmed by an empathic soul.
I must move in for a closer look,
this viewing that makes me whole.
And there my gaze unfurls,
at the painting on the wall.
Impressions of a lonely girl
Hooded with a shawl.
A smile content with ruby lips,
eyes serene and open.
With hands in clasp, thoughts do slip,
her heart no longer broken.
Compassionate feelings plain in view,
expressed by her caring thoughts.
Imprints on my mind a new,
no longer am I fraught.
Happiness abounds unfolding,
from eyes without despair.
A vision so bright and beholding,
this girl before me in prayer.
Portrait of Immortal Vision,
so misty eyed and clear of mind.
The artist captured your decision,
and the inner peace that you did find.
I must come back to have a look,
at the lonely girl on the wall,
Her tender smile fills my book,
when I visit the museum hall.
when I visit the museum hall.
Sunday, February 1, 2015
Be Forewarned and Aware
Be Forewarned and Aware
Days of dark insanity, brings the world calamity,
unleashed now are the demons of the Kell,
they destroy our faithful peace, while our freedoms end and cease,
and greedy violence turns the Earth to hell.
Attacking peaceful protests, police command the process,
our rights and freedoms vanquished under ground,
deceiving politicians, proclaim their false positions,
excused by hidden interests of the crown.
So many are distracted, held captive and impacted,
by TV robots schooling mind and thought,
media fans disruptions, they hide all the corruptions,
directing viewers to the melting pot.
Military ferocious, their malcontent atrocious,
belligerence unleashed across the world,
they invade the oil lands, drinking dry the desert sands,
and praise the violent crimes that they’ve unfurled.
Seek truth in your direction, wisdom for your reflection,
your common sense will serve you and not fail,
just question all the lies, pay attention to the ties,
be hopeful and determined, not for sale.
Trust your inner knowledge, it serves you as a college,
the choices are within and yours to make,
beware of masked illusions, their darkness and delusions,
the safety of your world will be at stake.
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By: The Activist Poet
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