#omnipresence - Hello Poetry

Poems themselves are not directly Poetry yet a written, cognitive transcription of It. A beauteous Poet doesn’t need to speak or write to be one; It resonates through their either tender or pondering glances, acts, demeanour and kisses peppered on the universe’s matters with eyes, finger tips, soles, breath and thoughts of Heart too complex for the Mind. If Heart Thoughts are even greater, they turn gibberish and may seem silent or even non-existent to seekers of the verbal. Poetry can be every thing, a newspaper, understatement, laboured breathing, reflective walk among the trash bins, apprehension hidden behind a lonely phrase or honourable existing as a sole, proud activity.

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Jun 14, 2020

Jun 14, 2020 at 5:47 PM UTC

DanRo

Gioielli di Giornale #1

Poems themselves are not directly Poetry yet a written, cognitive transcription of It. A beauteous Poet doesn’t need to speak or write to be one; It resonates through their either tender or pondering glances, acts, demeanour and kisses peppered on the universe’s matters with eyes, finger tips, soles, breath and thoughts of Heart too complex for the Mind. If Heart Thoughts are even greater, they turn gibberish and may seem silent or even non-existent to seekers of the verbal. Poetry can be every thing, a newspaper, understatement, laboured breathing, reflective walk among the trash bins, apprehension hidden behind a lonely phrase or honourable existing as a sole, proud activity.

20

Oh God, You hide Yourself in the world so well that there's hardly anyone around who can tell. People often ask Who, what or where You are because it seems that You're so near, yet so far. When You reveal Yourself to anyone someday all their narrow limited mind is blown away. They are then left speechless and in a state of knowing nothing new according to fate. Because all along You've been within them whispering directions for those who'll stem; and get to the source of that voice they hear which rises from the heart and is very dear. ___________________________

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May 5, 2020

May 5, 2020 at 11:58 AM UTC

George-Krokos

On God's Omnipresence

Oh God, You hide Yourself in the world so well that there's hardly anyone around who can tell. People often ask Who, what or where You are because it seems that You're so near, yet so far. When You reveal Yourself to anyone someday all their narrow limited mind is blown away. They are then left speechless and in a state of knowing nothing new according to fate. Because all along You've been within them whispering directions for those who'll stem; and get to the source of that voice they hear which rises from the heart and is very dear. ___________________________

13

Gods omnipresence tiptoes east to west strategically over thirty three aisles of light planes .

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Aug 13, 2019

Aug 13, 2019 at 10:48 PM UTC

olivia-henkel

Huckleberry Moon

Gods omnipresence tiptoes east to west strategically over thirty three aisles of light planes .

5

What was it about omnipresence that appealed to me so much that I destroyed myself - one mountain at a time, one boundary at a time - until the alarms stopped going off at breaches? The magpies don't sing when they're sad, so what am I when I laugh at myself for crying? Who am I looking for when my pillows waft voiceless lullabies from a bed half-empty? (half yours, half mine, and I don't know which one's missing.) What was it about hedonism that disgusted me so much that my body rejected kindness - every peace offering, every affectionate touch - until it could no longer hold itself together? Metaphors, like escaped prisoners, running for a life anywhere that isn't here, anywhere that isn't me, and I fold and break into myself in muted, nondescript implosions.

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Apr 4, 2018

Apr 4, 2018 at 2:47 PM UTC

phantasmagothica

solus

What was it about omnipresence that appealed to me so much that I destroyed myself - one mountain at a time, one boundary at a time - until the alarms stopped going off at breaches? The magpies don't sing when they're sad, so what am I when I laugh at myself for crying? Who am I looking for when my pillows waft voiceless lullabies from a bed half-empty? (half yours, half mine, and I don't know which one's missing.) What was it about hedonism that disgusted me so much that my body rejected kindness - every peace offering, every affectionate touch - until it could no longer hold itself together? Metaphors, like escaped prisoners, running for a life anywhere that isn't here, anywhere that isn't me, and I fold and break into myself in muted, nondescript implosions.

17

(out in the open) Eyes see a plane gaining speed...now airborne Soaring...from a background of bright, lush horizon Out in the open I see the high and low....of slopes...undulating, Curves and points abound...showing A rising A falling. Surface is covered with grass, bushes and trees A pallette of nature's colors...brown, yellow ochre, red, orange, green All are nurtured by light from sun All are watered by dew and rain. Outdoors, or indoors...there truly is a rising always followed...by a falling To show and prove, a story of birthing how it is.....when surviving and what transpires...when in the process of dying Alone...out here in the open I am infinitesimal...just a dot, amidst this vastness There's no one, just me...no rush...nothing is hastened When i speak...aloud, in whispers...Somebody always listens Even when i don't speak at all. There is calm...yet the sounds are endless The mockingbirds are singing...wind is whirring Somewhere, water is flowing, running, ...all are ceaseless... Now and then, heart beats, way too restless Followed by a moment of helplessness Have i strayed towards a path of selfishness? Could there be a need for more...of selflessness? In this diurnal existence, i am surrounded by mountains On my own, i could never conquer those soaring cones on my horizon But, i lift my eyes, up there...without a fiber of pretense Surrendering my shoulders, my all, to a known Omnipresence. I dwell on a promise long time spoken That, no matter how high my mountains No matter how heavily laden Just a look up to the Heavens Will make a big difference, For, in my heart, I know, I believe: Prayers Can Move Mountains. Sally Copyright January 8, 2016 rrab

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Jan 20, 2016

Jan 20, 2016 at 7:58 PM UTC

sally-a-bayan

MOUNTAINS

(out in the open) Eyes see a plane gaining speed...now airborne Soaring...from a background of bright, lush horizon Out in the open I see the high and low....of slopes...undulating, Curves and points abound...showing A rising A falling. Surface is covered with grass, bushes and trees A pallette of nature's colors...brown, yellow ochre, red, orange, green All are nurtured by light from sun All are watered by dew and rain. Outdoors, or indoors...there truly is a rising always followed...by a falling To show and prove, a story of birthing how it is.....when surviving and what transpires...when in the process of dying Alone...out here in the open I am infinitesimal...just a dot, amidst this vastness There's no one, just me...no rush...nothing is hastened When i speak...aloud, in whispers...Somebody always listens Even when i don't speak at all. There is calm...yet the sounds are endless The mockingbirds are singing...wind is whirring Somewhere, water is flowing, running, ...all are ceaseless... Now and then, heart beats, way too restless Followed by a moment of helplessness Have i strayed towards a path of selfishness? Could there be a need for more...of selflessness? In this diurnal existence, i am surrounded by mountains On my own, i could never conquer those soaring cones on my horizon But, i lift my eyes, up there...without a fiber of pretense Surrendering my shoulders, my all, to a known Omnipresence. I dwell on a promise long time spoken That, no matter how high my mountains No matter how heavily laden Just a look up to the Heavens Will make a big difference, For, in my heart, I know, I believe: Prayers Can Move Mountains. Sally Copyright January 8, 2016 rrab

49

Embracing the darkest night of my soul, Whispering gentle devotions so the spirit takes control I begin to cry while I have the world at my feet, For the bland has scratched out deity with mere and harsh defeat Overcome I crawl to wrap myself in wrinkled cotton warmth Yet suddenly the window has burst open for omnipresence sets forth Shackled once more, heavy chains baring me to ground My omnipresence would fly freely with this darkness left unfound.

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Sep 25, 2014

Sep 25, 2014 at 5:20 PM UTC

la-mer

Omnipresence in the Dark Night of the Soul

Embracing the darkest night of my soul, Whispering gentle devotions so the spirit takes control I begin to cry while I have the world at my feet, For the bland has scratched out deity with mere and harsh defeat Overcome I crawl to wrap myself in wrinkled cotton warmth Yet suddenly the window has burst open for omnipresence sets forth Shackled once more, heavy chains baring me to ground My omnipresence would fly freely with this darkness left unfound.

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