There is no death

There is no death,
just emerging
from material form,
with a shake of damp,
fresh wings of
remembering, and
a smile for the familiar,
the known and what
has always been, and
was, even in the time
of earthly forgetting,
held within the
cocoon of incarnation,
protected by the shell
of Self which caressed
for that brief time,
your eternal Soul.

Bushfire

Season spoke in searing teeth,
as suffocating smile, to suck
the breath from earth and air
and would not be denied.

In raging grasp of vicious red,
and golden, searching dance,
the fiery waves in blackened fall,
screamed in the face of chance.

The earth in fallowed heating,
the timbers stretched by fire,
the grass extinguished - shattering,
a world where death drank life.


Words of ash rode whirling wind,
in burning, brutal tease,
which held mortality in grasp;
brought death as fate decreed.

Horizon held in brutal belch,
throughout the dying days,
until at last the flames were spent;
and night's cool hand was raised.



And then beneath a glittered sky,
the earth reflected black,
in shivered embers scattered far,
on suppurating tracks.


http://margoroby.com/2013/07/16/poem-tryouts-before-during-or-after-the-storm/#respond

Words

There is a dance within each offered word,
no matter if the sounds are ever heard,
for even in the writing is ensured,
a message carried surely to its birth.

Hidden, silent waltz of word does bring,
an energy to being, seen or not,
connecting thee and me for all of time,
linking hearts with silken twist of knot.

It is our task to carve the words in mind,
to craft and place and offer them with love,
and never know if they will be received;
they live, and will eternal - it's enough.

Ah soul

Ah soul, you knocked upon the door in echoed call,
a ringing through the mind which I decried,
and heard instead as timbered stretching sharp,
that crack as splintered being seeks to grow,
so sudden, shocking, whether bright or dark,
just like the ancient wardrobe by my side,
that place, where lost in childhood, I would hide.

To turn away from signs and symbols surely given,
to hide my eyes from synchronicities which spoke,
was just instinctual huddling into the depths of Self,
in murmured wording which Denial did speak,
recorded without judgement or demands,
in patient waiting, knowing that in deep and sighing
time, the pull to individuation could not be denied.

Ah soul, you knocked upon the door in echoed call,
a ringing through the mind which held a tone,
those notes of full becoming which did harmonise,
and resonate as balanced being brought at last to birth,
because deceptions voice had now been put to rest,
and courage held out arms so strong and wide,
that falling into truth, gave nowhere else to hide.

Surrendering

Slow, soft, peeled surrendering,
lifts dried and crusted face,
the mother's bright blue shawl,
across the boards does drape.
That curl of edge has risen,
that flake of crippled age,
revealing perfumed timbers;
advancing on time's stage.
How silently the years do sing,
how cautiously they pull,
upon the base and riven boards;
displaying hidden truths.
The split in image is decreed,
in ancient, layered strokes,
which smile in sudden bursting;
persona cannot hold.
How gentle is this dying,
in suppurative sighs,
with certain, deep releasing;
in shreds of helpless lies.
There is no raging battle,
no angered grief or tears,
but only mere acceptance;
resigned when death appears.

Signature song

The music sounds eternal,
in signature of song,
as human, flower or stone;
as who we do become.

The notes in pure vibration,
speak easily of being,
and bring all things to birth;
create what we do see.

In life so instrumental,
and consciousness as tune,
through particles and waves;
so everything is born.

And when there is a harmony,
and notes vibrate as one,
then all is pure connectedness;
made manifest as Love.