#guides
From per-if-oration -25 lines
transferred attention,
spent time
in contemplation
temple time,
sitting silent, hearing humms,
sh, some tweets mean
some birds, far away, about a
fair infield fly away, listen close
the gap...
How far is that, would you say,
a hundred feet,
thirty paces,
perhaps… there's the catch.
Hook a curiosity in flight.
Precisely right place
right time.
Think how rare that seems,
then look around
and see it isn't.
Gnatcatchers and bats catch flying
things with more measures
of possibility assessed accurately, as
instant prayer and answer.
Gulped in thanks.
Not a single read in five days, so
the old fisher casts another curios net.
Apr 10, 2024
Apr 10, 2024 at 3:28 PM UTC
i am not fluent in the tongue of angels
it does not taste familiar in my mouth
it is not my first language, nor is it my second
i listen to it spoken, and i try to understand
occasionally a word i recognize slips through the wall of sound
and i grasp for more meaning
the native speakers have the patience of saints
they know learning a new language is difficult
they know being in a new place is strange
i stumble over worlds of words
not due to uneven pavement
but unfamiliar streets
two locals appear, one on either side of me
just as i am about to fall
they take my hands and steady me
and i learn another new phrase
i am building new neuropathways
the angels beam with pride
Jan 29, 2022
Jan 29, 2022 at 3:32 PM UTC
We are not truly the light
if we hold others
in darkness
I tend to dimly shine
………
Sep 14, 2021
Sep 14, 2021 at 7:46 AM UTC
Inspiration.
Motivation.
In times of fear and doubt.
Determination.
Aspiration.
Are things life is about.
Ambition.
Direction.
To guide us on our way.
Indication.
Explanation.
Reminding us everyday.
Compassion.
Consideration.
Are what we need to show.
Affection.
Admiration.
So the world can see and know.
Pacification.
Imperturbation.
For us as a whole.
Exhilaration.
And Elation.
Lifelong for our Soul.
©KSS 12/2012
Sep 1, 2020
Sep 1, 2020 at 9:49 AM UTC
Who guides you each day?
Would you to angels pray?
Our guides on the sides,
All ethereals, they hide,
An open mind we must keep,
Blessings from above, love so deep.
May 29, 2020
May 29, 2020 at 10:58 PM UTC
Night so often brings a lack of force,
But in this other world
That hums alongside ours,
There is a golden line riding in the sky,
A horizontal meridian
That runs like a road,
Across the plains
Where invaders roam
And you should not travel
On your own.
So hang onto the line and fly
Above despair or fear,
Until you reach a darker cliff
And enter the realm
Of Pythagoras.
Along with his elfin helper,
Who spun the golden line
Steered by Pegasus.
And slung below the stars,
Thin as a spider’s web
And strong as steel,
He gives frail dreamers
Safe passage from world to world.
Above the winding roads
And forests of dark mist,
Those of Eriador, Earthsea and Hyrule
Sail like Odysseus past rock-bound isles
And Sirens’ songs and Loki’s smiles.
But what lies beyond those hills,
The dubious mortal asks.
To which the winged horse replies,
“Only those who dare
And trust me safely to consign
Will ever know where leads
The Meridian of Pythagoras,
The endless, golden line.”
May 1, 2020
May 1, 2020 at 10:28 PM UTC
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.
Dec 30, 2019
Dec 30, 2019 at 10:15 AM UTC
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.
Apr 24, 2019
Apr 24, 2019 at 12:52 AM UTC
1111
333
555
The best insurance in the world
coming to a clock near you.
Apr 19, 2019
Apr 19, 2019 at 11:16 AM UTC
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.
Feb 19, 2019
Feb 19, 2019 at 4:24 AM UTC
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
Jul 11, 2017
Jul 11, 2017 at 10:10 AM UTC
"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."
Apr 24, 2017
Apr 24, 2017 at 9:40 AM UTC
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.
Feb 7, 2017
Feb 7, 2017 at 9:04 PM UTC
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 .
Aug 28, 2016
Aug 28, 2016 at 4:16 PM UTC