My quivering fingers dance on the ivory of piano
You come swirling in front me
Dressed in white
My angel of light
I'm no longer scared of the long night

You gently kiss my forehead
I forget about everything but the gleam of love in your eyes
With your essence by my side, I'll once again rise
No more tears and no more silent cries
We'll live a happily ever after in every life
- Zahra Sherazie
AS Jun 13
In deep, to the point some days I struggle to sleep.
The essence inside begging to be free, to dance together with those to this cosmic beat.
Something no-one can see, it's something for those who deeply feel.
Once the sense is attuned, it's like finding a side old but new.
Sensing bringing along intense yearnings, burning to play with those alike.

When unattuned and blind to what is inside, the dark beings take the opportunity to pounce.
Dependent on the darkness inside, sometimes there is light inside.
These unthreatening types.
But for those who make you shiver with fright.
They have something older and darker than even darkest skies.
Seeing people with radiating light a tasty morsel, that spiritual type of food.
Caution and awareness, maintain what needs to be kept safe.
Undisciplined types prey to these beasts, sucking dry each part of the light they seek.

Discipline brought with age, is the only way I found to keep away the depraved.
A clarity and a safe way to keep away from these essences craving barbarity.
No Saint be I.
Having to welcome a little darkness inside.
A layer that protects and chimes the bells inside with warning.
Providing a force that no essence can suck dry, as many those monster have tried.
Be aware with who you share, with who you leave your soul bare.

© 2018
Abigail Sheard
rob kistner Jun 11

step gently through the dream-gate

take hold the strand continuum

ride the light that carries you

to the is, was, the will be

transcendence moment

when the all is one

in the perfection

of pure being

here now





rob kistner © 2009
(revised 2018)
A concrete poem contemplating the essence if being here now.
Respect to Baba Ram Dass.
Alan S Bailey May 13
I would add so much to this
With my creative essence providing
Some sort of balance to my aim,
Finding a way to inspire and entertain.
Screw that lets just entertain for monetary gain.
Insane whilst filling adding excess facts into your brain.
Seema May 8
I have been away for too long
In a solitude, burried with remorse
For I've lost a very close loved one
And the situation got worse

I prayed to be taken away
For my life to end
As soon as possible
Coz nothing much was left to mend

Tears rolled down my cheeks
To stop the negative thoughts
Got taken back many times
To untie the invisible knots

Voices got into my ears
That ached to explode my temple
Closing my eyes eveytime
A picture painted, to resemble

It's you, O'mum...that I can't get over with
Life seems, more like a lego
Feelings that can't be put into words
Every bit pierces through the core

Your smile, your beauty, your essence
Has all been captured by this heart
Now, in troubled weak times
Another scene peeps as an art

How will I ever, comfort myself
That now I am all alone
None that are left by my side
All have fallen and gone

May your soul rest in peace
Exactly, a month today
Missing you heaps in this crowded shell
Hope to meet you, someday...

Voices from my weak heart.
If I was existential
And you were my absurdity
would you
tarry with me anyway
in a certain
If being a Thinker
Was my trade
Would you still Deride me
Trickle through
The thoughts I made
Belittling my poetry
Come on
Love this parody
Come on
Love this piracy -
Come on
Come now into my mind, Love
Be the essence of my poetry
The Poet

The poet is a thinker:
He has to be.
The poet doesn’t only think:
He is a visionary.
He takes us from the lower to the daily,
To the higher daily quality;
A vision of reality:
The underlying daily.

He makes us see us all
In feelings large and small.
He is important in the sorting out
The whole assortment of our sentiments.

He steeps us in the deep
Without our knowing,
Showing us through images and pretty rhyme,
Rhythms in and out of time.

Showering the reader
In the afterglow of beauty
It is his duty
To be leader to a higher self:
That is the poet in a nutshell.

The Poet 4.2.2018The Processes: Creative, Thinking, Meditative; Arlene Corwin
Arlene Corwin Mar 19
I was thinking about human essence and this came out.
Next page