Parkside Girl (Gameday Skate)

Faded jeans,

Dark Home Roy #9

A multi-colored backpack,

Like the kind you’d find in school

Long brown hair with braids adrift 

Out from beneath that old green Rastafarian headwear

Skips from the road up through the hill

Dispersing dewdrops with her steel-tipped toes

On the path she walks the side again

Five steps forward in cyclical succession

Pause.  Observe. Understand.  Spin around.  Breathe and count to 10

This could be everyday…this could become routine to take this all in

Squinted smile on a barefaced pale

She winces as she streamers past the trees

Waving gently to the squirrel within

Up the bark that’s come to life…

Scurrying…scurrying through the disco painted leaf shade light

11 times she’d leap high to sky…like a baby bird’s 1^st real flight,

 On a lark, whimsy free…not caring how soon the night turns dark

It’s in the nature all around…where if one looks, one will be found

An Octet of Jinn

An Octet of Jinn,

Breathes as both

Beast & man—

Capable of enacting

The roles for/of either

Good and/or Bad

As one would expect—

A balance could

To each the charm,

The myth, the might,

Cloaked in veils of lotus flaked

That together they can form

A divinity of petals,

Residing inside the skulls of man

Leaving us,

 a reminder of

The micro & macrocosms

Of God,      alive in      each of us.

A Quintet of Flies

A quintet of flies

Stammer amongst

The face of God on Earth—

As Hierophants delve

Deep into pentad form—

Where the location of

A central dot, to either side,

Indicates an illustration of,

The Spirit’s triumph over matter mined

Odd(s) evened to,

Outstretched limbs—

Arms, legs, sex blent

Pivot from west to east—

Vitruvian to alchemy’s

Rosy centered Cross Lamen

A Septet of Angels

A septet of Angels,

Winged high,

Above clouded covers

                 Spindles drawing forth—

                  As each inch of fiber’s thread

                  Tightens distaff toward,

Appears the spectrum,

A vision absorbed,

As are the virtues—

Handed down,

Whole and true,

Pure in frame,

Like each the notes

Diatonically arranged

Number of the Beast (Heart/Spirit/Art)

It's another Tuesday, and we all know what that means?  Yep, it's Open Link Night over at  D'Verse, stop on by for some amazing  artistry by all the great poets that submit their work.  And while you're there, share  one of your own.  It's a great time for anyone who likes to write or read poetry.

Moonstones rubbed for inspiration

Platonic solids textures make

As ideation coincides

With the golden section of                               your mind

Creator

Intellect

Soul

One

Two

Three

Silence escapes a nervous void

With a mesmerizing tonal gaze,

Each vowel bends in me,

An enshrinement of consonancy

Before the hallowed harp doth play

I’m hearing sounds of primacy,  

 Voicing visions debasing me, of all I believed I knew.

It’s as if she’d been granted a gifted tongue—

To speak the words of Malachim

Four

Five

Six

Shifting shapes of angles blend to form

As matter, elements and bodies mix

As conversation eclipses time

Mudras vast beset my eyes

As winter nears

For the first in many years

It does appear

That Demeter, before her trip

Made preparations for

Nourishment

7, 8, 9

The universe and its qualities,

The constituents of the world

Knowing what I do know now

The Decad is the first number to need a second part

Ten.  Fingers-Thumbs.

…and so spins the wheel

When you’re near

I feel the meaning of

All the gifts of touch

Provided by

 Tetraktys

With love.