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Andrea Lee Bolt Apr 2021
The Blossoms from the Pear-less Trees
blow like Snow in this spring breeze
glistening in the sunlight
smiling as their in flight
not a care about where they land
becoming one again with our Mother
this life
one adventure after another
We live on a ranch in the Sierra Nevadas, We very much enjoy sitting and allowing Mother Earth to put on a performance for us. As we began to write this the Blossoms at that moment didn't look like Snow. I had noticed it earlier but when We sat down the Wind wasn't blowing. Once we put pen to paper and wrote "Snow in the spring breeze" it's as if Mother Earth heard us. Send a big gust a wind and it was like winter on a warm sunny day. Synchronicity is what we call it. Moments coming together to create an art piece that disappears as quickly as it was birthed. Thanks for reading.
Michael T Chase Mar 2021
Sometimes the clarity of a geometry is only appreciated by learning symbology which skates around such form.
LannaEvolved Dec 2020
The Other Side

Look through me so that I can see you
Surprise me
Do not hinder your reveal

I appreciate your humanness

The blood that sings when you think of me in golden evenings

I know.

That you can hear me learning
I feel your brain’s creativity on my spine

That is beauty speaking to the core
Growing one breath at a time
before we meet again
A first true love is undoubtedly the most powerful and wonderful
Carlo C Gomez Jun 2020
The morning shore
Is in place
And it will lift
And separate
Smiling wide
As the high tide
Reaches places
Meant to be unattainable

I am ready for
Sensory overload
Your thoughts resting
On my shoulder
Your smile wide
As giftedly so
You pull my strings
And head for home
Anastasiia Jan 2020
Having an intention of doing something
is more powerful
than just saying
'I want to do this',
'I am going to do that'
(before the actual action).

Having an intention
involves powers higher
than yourself,
helping you,
arranging events,
and means

'You are not alone in this,
We are helping you'
says the holy voice.
you and the divine are one;
ask and  so shall be.
annh Dec 2019
‘How quaint,’ remarked Mistress Hora as she turned the afternoon on its head, ‘that you would consider time to be a linear construct.’

‘Positively post-historic,’ agreed Master O’Clock, nodding his head in perfect synchrony with the orchestra that played inside his ear. Today was Waltzday (or so he had named it), an interminable reminder that atomic metronomes particularly those of Viennese manufacture were not to be trifled with.

‘Be assured, my dears, that this fancy is a passing one and exists only as a fleeting extemporaneous distraction,’ our Mistress continued. The first year students breathed a collective sigh of relief. ‘Now, I want no clumping, no running ahead, and NO helical improvisation. When yesterday’s fish and chips come wrapped in tomorrow’s newspaper it gives our school a most unfortunate reputation.’ The class chortled as one. ‘Most importantly, please remember to take your pocket guide.’

I reached for my bedraggled copy of The Theory of Chronometrical Fluidity: Compressed Edition and wrung the pages out. I had failed badly at applied clepsydrics and my cousin Widget wasn’t letting me forget it. From behind the glass, I spotted her playing a furtive game of Gregorian and by the look on her face February was winning. I blew her a lemniscate to grab her attention. She scowled, looked up from her losing streak and giggled when she saw me spiralling in her direction. ‘Good luck,’ she spiralled back.

Miss Hora flexed her wrist and glanced at her temporal transponder. ‘You will be marked on cuneiformity, consistency, and rate of continuance. Now be off with you. Tempus fugit!’ With a flick of her bejangled fingers she opened the S.A.N.D. grates. I held my breath and jumped.
I couldn’t get hour glasses out of my head, and overnight my poem became a drabble. In my travels through Wiki-land I discovered that a clepsydra was a water clock, a device used by the ancients to measure time during night hours when sundials were reduced to decorative but functionless masonry. A lemniscate is the symbol for infinity, the horizontal figure-eight of algebraic theory.

‘Far out in the uncharted backwaters of the unfashionable end of the western spiral arm of the Galaxy lies a small unregarded yellow sun. Orbiting this at a distance of roughly ninety-two million miles is an utterly insignificant little blue-green planet whose ape-descended life forms are so amazingly primitive that they still think digital watches are a pretty neat idea.’
- Douglas Adams, The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy
J J Aug 2019
petals of the willow
vibrate with mild rain
as our approaching footsteps
run through them
coalescing in a magical scene
seemingly beyond a stroll in the park;
above,the crepuscular sky hangs
fake-looking,like a stageplay's backdrop
with a myriad of still blue's overlaying
one another
and the clouds like puffy scabs atop youthful skin.

I think we are slowing
down (perhaps,unconsciously to fit
the pace of the scene)
and I think our footsteps are mirroring our heartbeats,
I know Mine are
And I know Yours are mirroring Mine.

beneath us the willows' petals tremble soft
and I am glad
to be alone with You tonight,to belong to the park
together,forever entuned,
forever entwined-- if only for tonight.
Somewhat inspired by 'With me tonight' by The Beach Boys.
Mayte Jul 2019
There’s an emerging synchronicity
Kept in parallel worlds inside of us.
It seizes the perfect moment
To appear endlessly
In multi dimensional universes
To complement the actions
Of the entire human race.
One object can never be
In two places at the same time
They say,
But that statement confuses them.
It’s amazingly curious how come
We never consider
Even the rarest possibility
In the lapse of our short lives.
Our minds seek and explore,
Look through time and space.
Imagining is quite easy at the end
When we perfectly know
Exactly where to search
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