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Jake Welsh Nov 2019
zephyr passes over the shimmering abyss
plots formed from images vacated

it’s what i breathe!

things that flash through my mind:
contemplative lips of a forgotten dancer,
bangs brushed aside,
a glance over shoulder…


a spider beckoned me,
to show me the mandala he calls home.
he took what looked to be a deep sigh, and said,

inside and out, we all have gifts
to be given, or shown, or flashed through thoughts.

i asked if he could give me a tour.
from "salve" 2019
available @:
after painfully separating
the colors in intricate patterns
she allows herself the full glimpse
of her daily labors. and without
hesitation brushes the dry earth,
along with her work.

her long fingers unfurling,
the long and brittle parts
breaking into sand.

7 November 2018
literary exercise "hands" ; remembered natgeo clips, one from a monk in ornage robes and another woman from India, creating mandalas from colored sand only to brush it with the earth as soon as they finish.

**** it, what's wrong why wont asterisks for italics work now?
Aditya Oct 2018
An innocent Child 
growing into a Man,
A journey of Evolution,
A natural Phenomena,
Physicality is a Mandala.

Emotions in Abundance,
Rising in Love,
Only to Fall,
A Mercurial Drama,
The Heart is a Mandala.

Choices to Baffle,
Time conquered Memories,
Sharpness of the Mind,
Like the sparkle in Cola,
Intellect is a Mandala.

A jar wrapped in Silk,
Holding the Fragments,
of a colorful Identity,
Disappearing into a Nebula,
The Sand Mandala is a Tibetan Buddhist tradition of creating a design representing the cosmos. Once this beautiful design is created, it is dismantled to symbolize the ephemeral nature of our existence.

Nothing is permanent — whether it is the temporary nature of our physicality or the fickle nature of our heart and mind. 

Live THIS Moment before it becomes History.
traces of being Jul 2017
We were born
before the sighs
of surrender

before the twilight
whispered crescendo

before the sad sound
of the wind ―

Ere the raw truth
that tells a story
"eyes that are
the windows
   of the soul" ―

We were born
with eyes wide
     with tears
    that well up
of truth unspoken,

  love arising
a budding flower,..

of fertile heart ―

The wheel of life
turns unbound
an outgoing tide

   as certain as
       abides ―
an unbroken lariat
  until the knot
  comes untied

A lonesome dove coos
  perched upon
deserted garden gate;
its gentle plea segued
into a silent prayer ―

Seasons change;
   supple buds
of forlorn love
― wither,

unsure if we’re alone
         or if
we’re alone together (?)!

                                                  ­  ­    ­         .

"Through a foggy window in the rain
When you thought no one was watching,
Going through your memories
Like so many prisons to escape
And become someone else
With another face
And another name" excerpt from :
"Through The Window" by Chris Cornell
Brent Kincaid Oct 2016
I read the Bible, totally
To consecrate me.
I read Castaneda avidly
To elevate me.
To teach myself to speak
I wrote poetry.
To calm my neuroses
I performed musically.

The sky above me
The earth below
So much about this world
That I do not know.
I am definitely an animal
But not so very wild.
Yet not so very different
Than I was as a child.

I learned all the verses
They taught me in school.
I tried to heed the warnings
Not grow up as a fool.
I memorized the advice
From those who seemed to care.
I counted all my blessings
And did not forget to share.

It’s not always easy
The lessons from school.
It takes a lot of courage
To live by the Golden Rule.
When life doesn't go right
As it will to all good men,
I remember all the good I did
And then do it all again.

The sky above me
The earth below
So much about this world
That I do not know.
I am definitely an animal
But not so very wild.
Yet not so very different
Than I was as a child.
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