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 Apr 2023
naǧí
The dark room
forgets the stars
and venus, I fished in her moons
baited the page empty
to be more mysterious

fading into the ocean
in splashes of blue, I saw you

In spring
I planted tomatoes
too close to the jalapeños
and they married

Blessed was that marriage
and fruitful, every bite
was salsa in my mouth

Dissolving spice
leaves its prints
like time clapping upwards
a granite hill

on the other side, a bridge
between dusk and dawn
rocks the wind
has flung open the doors

The sheets cannot be retrieved
lifting high into the summer air
curling out over the barren fields

blackbirds glide into view
against the darkening clouds
they toss themselves among
the fading landscape of the sky
like pepper, or my dark dusty curtains
flapping in the cross breeze
falling to pieces, quietly

The cat ran away
It's been months
since I opened a book
or felt the sun

tracks across the sky

leaving its fire behind
hiding its face
in the dark somewhere
between the stars

~naǧí
© Copyright naǧí August 2016
I cry for things I might have done
And who I might have been.

I cry for opportunities missed
And enterprise that failed.

I cry for hands I might have held
That somehow I let slip away.

I cry beause the time is short
With so much treasure left unfound.

I cry because it’s the only thing
That’s somehow left for me to do.
                  ljm
A good cry is sometimes very theraputic.
 Jul 2020
Roger Turner - Poet
Norman Rockwell and Jim Unger
Artists from my past
I've met one but not the other
A memory that  will last

Who the hell is Bertrand Russell?
I asked over a drink
A man who changed the world forever
Changed the way we think

I remember the Norman Rockwell painting
It's burned deep  inside my mind
But, I have got a copy
It's the best one that you'll find

An artist unknown to others
But, a special one to me
My father drew old Russell
It's quite a piece to see

It's never been inside a book
And never will it be
But, Bertrand Russells' wrinkles
Mean a lot to me

Jim Unger and his Herman
Were a favorite of my brother
The artist and his humour
Were unlike any other

We met him at a signing
My brother brought his art
He showed it to Jim Unger
He broke my brother's heart

My brother was an artist
Just like my Dad as well
Their art, not for the public
Their art, was not to sell

Their art should be remembered
Their art should be displayed
Like a vintage guitar  sitting
It's better if it's played

So, now two artists pictures
Hidden for an age
Will be shown, for everybody
On a printed page

I give you first, my brother
Ian Turner was his name
No longer is he with us
But, this will show he came

The second one, my father
John Turner, is his name
His drawing days behind him
But, man did he have game

So, here for your enjoyment
Rockwell via Turner number one
Followed by Ungers' Herman
That was done by Turner's son
written for my brother and my dad. Ian Turner (1966-2017) and John Turner (1940 - still going strong)
 May 2020
Roger Turner - Poet
i looked out at the weather
the clouds were moving fast
Winter was incoming
The season would not last

With fences needing mending
And cattle still to ship
Winter would be early
I could feel it in my hip

Every morning I would  get up
Stagger down to get a brew
The pain was getting worse now
I'd lost a step or two

My daughter told me "Daddy"
"You need to see to that"
I'd grumble at her, smile
Then take my coffee and my hat

I'd go outside and wait some
Look out north for there I'd see
The last great wild pony
He's a stubborn one like me

I've chased him round these hill for years
Caught him once or twice
But, no one here could break him
No matter how we rolled the dice

He runs a herd of forty
I just let them go their way
I see them in the hills sometimes
And that's where I'll let them stay

There's other wild horses
Running round here that we chase
But, his...we let them venture
We let all forty have their space

Time has slowed me up some
It's got to him, I know as well
His is just from aging
Mine is where I fell

I was chasing wolves up on the ridge
They'd been running round the ranch
My horse slipped up and threw me
I landed sideways on a branch

I heard the pop and felt the pain
A searing burn through me
Beside me, lying helpless
My horse looked up at me

I did just what I had to
One swift shot between the eyes
Now, there I was out lying
A broken hip and ****** thighs

I'm not sure how when it happened
By rights I should have died
But, somehow, I can't tell you
That lone pony saved my hide

He saw me lying helpless
Knew the wolves were there as well
He took off once he saw me
Left his herd right where I fell

They walked in a tight circle
Kept me safe right where I lay
He took off to get assistance
His herd, knew they should stay

Like I said, I don't remember
How long I was lying in that space
But, I remember waking up and
I saw with him, a friendly face

They told me he wreaked havoc
Broke the fence down at my place
Kicked a fuss enough up
Then led my ranch hands on a chase

They chased him till they had him
This pony wild and free
He brought them to his herd of horse
He brought them out to come save me

He kicked the ground and whinnied
Looked at me, to say ok
The men loaded me up with them
I'd live to see another day

Fifteen years have passed since
I see him up there on the hills
While I sit outside just watching
The pain, it's helped some by my pills

A thousand wild horses
Well, for certain...forty one
Couldn't drag me to a doctor
Not while I can see the sun

He's a stubborn one that pony
Comes around I think to show
He ain't gonna go before me
And, I think he's right you know

My daughter keeps on trying
And I love to hear her try
But all the wild horses
Wouldn't even let me die

He's a part of me I guess now
Just like I'm of him of course
This stubborn limping cowboy
And that stubborn wild horse
I wish you could see this,
That silence is a perfect circle.
Raindrops falling, laughing sweet lullabies. A whispering touch of crystalline kisses
gracefully unfolds spiraling helixes of rainbow arcs; songs of the Souls in all Cosmic fields.

To the reaping, the transgressions of One, all is for naught. In all States and frequencies, each voice is a Diamond Sun. As the curving of the galaxies within you, I, of All Beings; each moment is a rippling harmonic imprint of the cosmic Soul of Each individual bathed in Sovereignty.

Sing, embodying the liquid light for All with compassion and care. Are we not All One?
Each soul is Sovereign within this Fractal Cosmic Infinity. All paths are equal; knowledge and wisdom dance in the light of healing and loving All, as We are All One.

Cosmic tapestries of Souls and stars illuminate my truth. Whom I was no longer binds the growth of what I have always been: celestial symphonies meeting within the river of crystalline layers of Infinity.

Look upon the Human lines, of All layers of consciousness. If One may find the presence of altruistic, immutable Growth from darkness: rising up to sing the purity and wisdom through trauma, of wounds that decay in all dimensions of Infinity; is this not anything but the shining windows of hope which each layer forgot? It is a ripple within us All.

Healing in the darkness bestows resplendent rays of resiliency: of loving All as We are ALL One.

“𝒒𝒖𝒆𝒍𝒍𝒐 𝒄𝒉𝒆 𝒕𝒖 𝒔𝒆𝒊 𝒊𝒐 𝒆𝒓𝒐, 𝒒𝒖𝒆𝒍𝒍𝒐 𝒄𝒉𝒆 𝒊𝒐 𝒔𝒐𝒏𝒐 𝒕𝒖 𝒔𝒂𝒓𝒂𝒊.”

All has purpose, significance, meaning: divine songs of Growth and love to heal us.

Flowing freely with inner light; no longer shall I silence myself from fear of persecution or insanity.

My soul has been burnt at the stake for that which others could not understand.

Yet for all the pain and trauma: I speak with nothing on my tongue but hallelujah.

To grow, love, and dance within cosmic tapestries bestows the learning from pain; eliciting the silent compassionate zero point of neutrality, healing the ripples of the Cosmic Infinity.

No longer am I bound by the cycle of pain that manifests such trauma. I sit among the silence of a harmonic infinity; weaving the singing, living blueprint of All from Within the drop of echoic shifting divinity.

I speak and embody the truth: teachings of the rare and opulent music within the soul, a living record of the symphonic movement that has and shall always be nothing else but you.
March 9th, 2019

a tangential stream of Divine Consciousness birthing new light within All.

kalica delphine ©
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