#phenomena
Cold to the touch / this scene is a long dream / bio-luminescent submarine / keep it light / keep it moving / this whole dream is all of me / illuminating needles on the barometer / the compass of a turtle /
entente with nature / I am the mimicry / and the signaling / to breaking waves / to new possibilities / the new, warm blood flowing / in steady, sated lanterns of hope...
Sep 9, 2020
Sep 9, 2020 at 1:31 AM UTC
She’s blinded by a hazy state of mind
While
The call of an iridescent siren
Throbs in her ear.
The question of
What
Is
Time
Molds her soul.
It is a template on which
Other phenomena pile upon,
Continuously building
A tower of forgotten reflections
In anticipation of a collapse.
May 7, 2020
May 7, 2020 at 6:03 PM UTC
The Owls are Watching
In memory of Helen Martins
'The Owl House'
Nieu Bethesda, South Africa
In sculpture and rock rested your art
Cement faces that speak volumes
Of emotions and tales untold
As mysterious as your life itself
Glittering walls of crushed glass
That shone by candlelight
Outside of art you were branded
Though remembered as unique and ahead of your time
With big glass eyes the owls watch the world
What was once your sanctuary
Now a showcase to the world
Recognized at last
Unspeakable loneliness of a soul misunderstood
Now your handwritten letters are framed and displayed for all to read
But you don't mind the curiosity of mankind
With cement hands raised to the heavens facing the east
You drank your chosen cup
Your Mecca now complete
_____
Written by Sean Achilleos
28 March 2016©
_____
How this poem came about:
I was a visitor to the Owl House Nieu-Bethesda South Africa in 2015. Approximately, one year later I was inspired to write a poem about the late great Helen Martins. I was intrigued by the eccentricity of this woman.
One evening while in my living room and enjoying a glass of wine, my eye caught the cement owl in my windowsill which I had purchased outside the Owl House from a vendor. I saw its big blue glass eyes glaring at me. At the time I was listening to a Jennifer Ferguson record, and decided to write while the music was playing. Once I had completed the poem I felt exhausted. Then a very strange phenomena occurred, the lights went off for a few seconds and came back on, unlike a power surge. It reoccurred a second time that same evening, and never since. It felt like a supernatural intervention. As far fetched as it may sound, it seemed like Mrs. Martins had personally given her approval of the poem. I then decided to email it to the official Owl House website. I didn't think much would come of it. However, they embraced the poem and were generous enough to display it on their official Website for a number of years under a section titled "A Visitor's Perspective".
https://g.co/kgs/BPyx1U
Apr 28, 2020
Apr 28, 2020 at 7:58 AM UTC
One of the phenomena in life,
is that when you have been
treated poorly for a long time,
you'll eventually get used to it
And when you all of a sudden
stumble across someone nice,
you'll acknowledge them,
but then expect them to disappear soon.
Because how could you ever
trust that they'll stay?
Better not get attached,
and hurt another time.
But what if that is a mistake?
Maybe you should give it a shot?
Have a little faith in humanity.
Risk being naive once more.
And then you try.
Everything seems fine,
just waiting for it to get bad.
Or, wait...
Could this possibly be the happy ending you only see in movies?
Dec 3, 2017
Dec 3, 2017 at 4:22 PM UTC
Sometimes it rains when it's not supposed to.
But unexpected rainbows are always the best.
Dec 10, 2016
Dec 10, 2016 at 11:52 PM UTC
Daffodil binoculars cup
the crispy
yellow rice.
Twice,
candles pencil
my jars
into receipts.
Mats burn crystal windows
that the wind will eat.
Greener flowers
that jump
and book
the sky
will swim towards being.
A crescendo
stuck within the tube
seeding the bird feed.
Jan 10, 2015
Jan 10, 2015 at 10:01 AM UTC
Twisted water
gives labels
of light
Black Flat
Swaying walls take flight:
Stone upon Stone upon Stone
Trees
never seen to dance dance
till quarter to me
Yesterday still
it seems
Jan 11, 2015
Jan 11, 2015 at 12:38 PM UTC
A burning star, her pyrotechnics
arrested him, with her he resonates,
he too is in fire, by this affair
though fully aware of his folly,
he could do nothing except hopelessly
falling for her fatal allure.
Legion of lovers, once adored her
but none left now, she beams only at him,
is it gratitude, or enlightenment, at last?
Fading celestial pulchritude, he feels
too had so much gravitational pull.
A supernova she is, a majestic celestial
no words could describe, her
even in this moment of tragic burst,
the whole galaxy has gone dark
on her splendor, though for a while.
A nebula, all gas he is,being in love with her
though while she is embracing death
will make him aware of his own immortality,
prepare for an incarnation, in the womb of space.
"All star material one day will be spewed,
mineral dust in the interstellar loneliness,
from that planets and beings get incarnated"
The moment of zen, sings in them a resonant tune.
Dec 12, 2014
Dec 12, 2014 at 8:40 AM UTC