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 Jul 2024 Karijinbba
Traveler
You can't catch me sleeping,
I keep myself awake.
I balance myself
in this unstable world
with every breath I take.

With every evil deception
of the powers that seem to be,
I won't stop shining on
from sea to distant sea.
I won't stop loving my fellow beings
nor deny the Divine in everything I'm seeing.
Oh no..
You won't catch me sleeping!
Traveler Tim
 Jul 2024 Karijinbba
Traveler
I need not identify to any gender
nor ethnic group to know myself.
I am exactly like you,
a spirit being having
a human experience.
Mostly invisible.

By the way...
It's good to be here with you.
Traveler Tim
 Jul 2024 Karijinbba
Traveler
The clouds refused to allow
the sun to shine as bright
but love will always find a way through the darkest dreary night

Take my word
My poetic hand
I am much more spirit
No less human
And..
Don't believe those lies
you're telling me,
I have spoken your words
I've dreamt your dreams

Nothing can separates
The quantum hold
We are fractals
Of living souls
We are but dreamers
On different clouds
Shake me no more
I'm wide awake now..
Traveler 🧳 Tim
 Jul 2024 Karijinbba
Jamesb
Choices
 Jul 2024 Karijinbba
Jamesb
We are all the sum
Of choices made,
Whether right or whether wrong,
Made in good faith
Or in bad,
And the Good Lord knows
I have made many good but
Also many bad,
Worse than that I have acted
Upon the worst of these,
As much as on the best,
But here is the question
That I wonder,
When it came from push
To shove,
I chose
You,
Did I do right to love you?
Or is this love just another
Poor and painful
Choice?
Only you can truly answer,
But to see that I have invested My all in your net nothing
Would break my heart
Thinking of him flings me from these plains
to the nearest body
of water whose mist smells of salt and life
the unrestrained passion
and ****** of sea.

The book, Odes to Common Things,
a gift of a dear friend
who knew not the arousal,
the seed of near sensual desire
it would plant in me
like the buttery aroma of a woman’s hair
or the taste of her moist lips.

Even a thought of Neruda
takes me to the stormy stirrings
wrought from the ***** of the Pacific.
and sounding on the shores of Chile.

How could the writing of a man
a continent away
foment in my chest
a fervor akin
to a spiritual awakening?

I read him in English
but feel the thump
of his Latin heart
in my body.
I read that his book, translated into English as Residence on Earth, was born of Neruda’s feelings of alienation. It seems that a large part of me feels as if I have been on the margins of society and maybe that is why I feel that thumping of Neruda’s heart within me. Spanish poet Garcia Lorca calls Pablo “a poet closer to death than to philosophy, closer to pain that to insight, closer to blood than to ink. “A poet filled with mysterious voices that fortunately he himself does not know how to decipher.” * I thank oldpoet MK https://hellopoetry.com/MK/  and his poem Broadcasting the Seed of Poems https://hellopoetry.com/poem/4845320/broadcasting-the-seed-of-poems/  for the inspiration for this poem.

“The Thumping of a Latin Heart,” Copyright 2024 by Glenn Currier
Written 6-23-24


*From: https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poets/pablo-neruda
 Jun 2024 Karijinbba
Jamesb
Do indeed stay close
In the hard times,
I have stuck by you
And had your back in
The face of your *******
Tirades,
Come flowers in hand to bind wounds
That you inflicted upon yourself,
As well as me,
And not just emotional but
Some which spilled real blood too,
Yet always here to do your dishes,
To cook,
Clean your hob and hold you,
Murmur love through your anger
And your pain,
I am far more than a true friend,
I am partner
Protector and
Lover
Without end
Son
.

Still the vacuum exists,
Still the soul is missed,
Still the emptiness persists,
And they say
Time is the best healer,
Time can give us time to adjust
But,
The pain never ceases,
The emotion never ends.

------
Sparkle In Wisdom
14/7/2021
White Opulence

Days in the desolate plains
of my steady gray moods
have sprawled and engulfed
what I once called
and now barely remember
exuberance.

But walking along suburban alleys
I glance to my left and there it is –
amid brownish green leaves
shimmering with the clouded sun
are muscular white flourishes
which ****** me
back to my Louisiana childhood
and a neighborhood paradise
of blooming trees.

I walk over, bend down,
inhale and feel a near drug-induced high
by the alluring, inviting, tempting
fragrance of a magnolia blossom.
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