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Star BG Dec 2019
My writer guide speaks now through me,
to launch my verse, that whispers sweet.
Words dance as they fly toward a page
to anoint future eyes.

I will echo gratitude,
when poem does end and time has flown.
I’ll post it on a site, HP
that calls both night and day.

Perhaps in time some likes shall come
with goal to reach 1000 hearts.
And with a prayer I just may find
it trend to make me smile.

Oh Reader please open your heart
to know in truth you are divine.
Let your sweet love guide as you find,
born is a poem so fine.
Just exercising heart with my new writer guide and out this came.  Thanks all for reading.
Star BG Apr 2019
Inside curtain of wind,
senses rise and focused mind
begins to hear.
Stream of song reverberates,
as music of breath balances heartbeat.
As vibrant twinkling stars lead thoughts
into pastures of lighted clouds.

Sleep eludes.
while words tumbled off finger tips,
and road to poem starts.
Letters circulate,
as if inside air particles of breath to form
jargon gatherings untouched by human mind.

“Who speaks in yonder hall
of prism faceted mind?”
I ask at 3AM
when it's sleep time for most
but not me.

Is it Shakespeare's shadowed form
as guide perched in realms unseen
who echoes in mind a
“to write or not to write,
that be the question.”

Or could it be Hemingway
who invites self into thoughts
sprinkling seedlings of a vision
once painted on a rainy night.

Perhaps it’s Poe a grand puppeteer of words,
who once lived.
A talented soul in matrex of universe
who offers mind transfusion
to tweak my prose
with a Ravens song.   
 
Maybe its an alien who stops for a while
in a dimension nearby
to reveal a message for those
craving wisdom to fall into eyes like
to move as pioneer
in celebration
of ones sacred self.

Alas time passes
as poem comes to an end
and moon slowly ascends
biding farewell

Undercurrents of sound
shift and writer guides ceases to feed
without leaving his calling card
of a name.

And I bid thee fine reader good day
as my cavorting fingers rest
making way to return to pastures of sleep.

Till we meet again
parting is such sweet sorrow.
I must say this is a strange write.
One I started a while ago but am trying to get rid of those poems in drafts.
Star BG Apr 2019
1111

333

555

The best insurance in the world
coming to a clock near you.
Our higher selves, angels, archangels, God, guides and alien beings of light
speak to all
Simple reminders of our policy with spirit
comes when we see triple numbers in day.
Savor them. They are a gift.
Star BG Feb 2019
Inside curtain of wind,
senses rise and focused mind
begins to hear.
Stream of song reverberates,
as music of breath balances heartbeat.
As vibrant twinkling stars lead thoughts
into pastures of lighted clouds.

Sleep eludes.
while words tumbled off finger tips,
and road to poem starts
its pulsating journey.
They circulate,
as if air particles are filled
with jargon untouched by human mind.

“Who speaks in yonder hall
of prism faceted mind?”
I ask at 3AM
when many sleep?

Is it Shakespeare's shadowed form,
as guide perched in realms unseen.
He echoes a “to write or not to write,
that be the question.”
He tickles senses
to awaken breath with,
“he who writes harbors gold.”

Or  could it be Hemingway
who invites self to dance
amid sprinkle seedlings of a vision
to paint on a rainy night.

Perhaps it’s Poe a grand puppeteer of words,
who once lived in human form.
A talented soul in matrex of universe
who wishes to share
with transfusion to tweak my prose
with Ravens song.    

Maybe its an alien who stops a while
in earths space
to reveal message for those
craving wisdom half awake.
A message to move as pioneer
everyday celebration
of ones sacred self.

Inside stage of moment
even the bird sleeps,
and crickets hibernate on winter night.

Inside the solitude of
gentle sparks of creative energies
fingers dance.
They march on
tapping into holding tank
of language
meant to deposit on page.

Alas time moves on,
as daybreak hints to arrive
and moon slowly ascends
biding farewell.

As undercurrents of sound
shift and writer guides ceases to feed
with their divine song.

As I bid thee fine reader good day,
and my cavorting fingers rest
making way for self to return to sleep pastures.

Till we meet again
parting is such sweet sorry.
When sleep eludes
and I can't sleep I connect.
Connect to the breath
to my divine gifts
to that vortex of those in other realms.
Perhaps you believe not oh reader which is fine
as we all have our paths.
Or maybe you think its possible
but still wonder how.

It is a process of purging the doubts
as was the journey I traveled
for quite some time.
It was with focus and surrendering
to the power of light that allows me to scribe.
It is something I am grateful for as well as
those who come to visit my poetic stage.

Life is indeed a gift meant to experience
both the dark and light
the tears and laughter
the gratitude and excitment.
WE ARE NOT ALONE
and that in itself takes time
to really understand.
Once known life becomes a holiday of experiences,
(even the challenging ones)
May you all connect to life's magic
and be that clown performer
(plain cloths division)

P.S. I am and have been a professional clown for 32 years
Johnny walker Nov 2018
Even In death, I have an
obsession with Helen she
kept me alive through the
poems my pen she guides
total control to what I
write
Approved my now late wife
so strong was our love It
carries me through the heart
felt pain of grief she made
her mark here In my
heart
Obsession heart felt pain of grief Helen
saved me from
Star BG Jul 2017
Angels, guides, and ancestors
gather with focus and intention
to aid those in human form.

Their here, with loving light to assist
when clouds block ones inner sight.

They come, in day and night
as wind blows and new energies
anchor on earth.

Their here, to remind
that all are children of divinity
blessed on the pathway of love.

Blessed to walk holding hands with source
that radiates inside everything.


StarBG © 2017
I inspired self with the awareness of the angels, arch angels, guides ancestors and beings of light from universe that were present to assist our journeys. Do call upon them and they will help you move in a peaceful life.
Star BG Apr 2017
"The world is a stage and we are all actors.
YOU play the main character SO enjoy all its scenes,
as your guides and angels applaud you."
Have you thanked your guides and angels lately?
Desiree Feb 2017
I have loved, I have lost
All these romances, at what cost?
Is this heart not fragmented?
Is it a 'sin' meant to be repeated?
Yes, sometimes I feel tormented,
Yet a deep Truth in my soul
Whispers that I Am whole.

A steady voice, felt but not seen,
A constant presence on my team.
Even at the lowest of lows,
Ask for help
She always shows us the way,
It is the Tao
All that there is: the here and now.
Blissful Nobody Aug 2016
Unbind those tethers,
Let me be.
You! yes you, choke me.
It's hard to breathe,
Yet I am still here.
They say it's no time to leave.
Why do I listen?
What do you gain?
Not anymore,
No! I cant hide this pain.

Why am I here?
Purpose, I seek .
Meditate but,
Lose my mind still.
Am I doing something wrong ?
Unlock my memory.
Sing to me,
That cryptic story.

Maybe now I will remember,
Or still pine for thee.
Oh! Dear me !
Let me be.
Who am I ?
Is this amnesia ?
A hidden key,
That I must find.
To the ground,
Earthly winds bind.

I must take wings,
I must fly.
Where do I belong?
If only you could whisper.
A part of my soul,
Is trapped somewhere.
The mystery remains,
Gradually I learn to meme.
I will become you again,
Till I find my way ,
Out of this bargain .

— The End —