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John F McCullagh Nov 2011
The weathermen were not prepared,
the storm turned West towards the shore
For eighteen hours it came down
in blinding sheets three feet and more.
It buried cars, it covered streets
It weighted down branches
on the trees, it dusted roofs
It snarled the roads, The winter
storm did as it pleased

When it was done, the air was calm
a cold serene and peaceful scene.
The snow in drifts lay on the ground
as I looked upon what once was green.


Then, as whiteness overawed the earth
A single red snowdrop appeared.
It briefly touched the snow draped earth
then rose again towards heaven's sphere
then one by one, here and there
flakes disengaged and rose on high
until all the snow that was earthbound
in blinding flight had disappeared.

In a flash, the snow was gone
The fields of earth once more were green
No traces of the storm remained
like a half remembered dream.
George Krokos Feb 2014
Oh Swami Muktananda Paramahansa that bliss of liberation you attained
by Guru Nityananda's grace emancipation in this very life you had gained.
You were a representative of the lineage of poet-saints that had gone before
showing how easy it was, by chanting the name of God, to meditate for sure.

You stressed the importance of repeating the mantra 'Om Namah Shivaya'
and that if done with love would bear fruit regardless of who was the sayer.
There was so much energy about you that one could feel, like an ever present force,
the supreme blessing of Guru Nityananda was with you always being its very source.

You were a living embodiment of chitishakti or divine power-knowledge-bliss
and most of all those who came before you could also easily experience this.
It appeared at times you were unapproachable if one was by your presence overawed
and that you were on the constant lookout for any sincere aspirant who was not bored.

You also emphasized and revealed the true nature of the guru-disciple relationship
stating in plain modern words what was expected of one like in an apprenticeship.
Many secrets of the inner path you divulged and laid bare in all your writings and talks
saying the receiving of Guru's grace was what made a difference on the path one walks.

A book called 'The Play of Consciousness' explained some of the inner experiences you had
your spiritual autobiography for the world at large making many inspired and extremely glad.
To many it meant that someone was still around living these days who had been through it all
and was available to instruct and guide others on the path to the goal he'd been to well before.

You were a living True Saint, Sadguru or Perfect Master to many it seemed
and showed the way or path of the Siddhas being the one which you deemed.
Living at a place called Ganeshpuri in India nearly fifty miles from Bombay
many came from all parts of the world to see you and in your ashram stay.

In the abode you named 'Shree Gurudev Ashram' in that land of yoga where people came
many found what they were after becoming your devotees to whom you gave a new name.
There was a strict daily discipline of chanting certain scriptures, work, study and meditation
and also the occassional all night chanting of the name of God which was a holy dedication.

The atmosphere in that place was so pervaded by the energy radiating from your being
almost as if one were living in another world and could not help what they were seeing.
The whole place resembled that of a temple palace attracting people from far and wide
who came to experience what with your grace you said was to be found but only inside.

You opened up a whole new ancient path of spiritual experience leading gradually to the goal
that people from all walks of life could participate in and regain the lost treasures of their soul.
By one-pointed devotion, self-effort, obedience, meditation and the blessings of Guru's grace
anyone could practice Yoga easily without much struggle and attain that inner peaceful place.

There were many new centres that opened by enthusiastic devotees in far away lands;
with the money, sweat and labour of all those who selflessly gave by their willing hands.
And it didn't really matter at what distance or place this centre was situated from you,
although not physically present your spirit, being all pervasive, was subtly there for you.

You also visited many of the countries where your devotees lived both in the east and west
giving darshan to all those old and new followers of the Siddha path you said was the best.
Initiating many people by either a look, word, thought, touch or even by your physical presence;
and all who received of your grace getting a real buzz, were invited to tell others of its essence.

It was mostly at a certain two day program, held every one or two months, called an "Intensive"
anyone could partake of the Siddha Yoga Initiation offered, at a price, which wasn't expensive.
This was also designed to enhance and recharge those who were already practising meditation
involving chanting, meditation and talk sessions including a lunchtime meal and brief relaxation.

One had to participate fully, from about nine to five, over the two days, usually on a weekend
to get the full benefit of what the program had to offer and experience Guru's grace descend.
This was really the main date on the calendar for all those into meditation that were not to miss
if they had nothing better to do and wanted to get a lift in their 'sadhana' and acquire some bliss.

It remotely seemed to be a bit of a fund raising venture with all the money seen changing hands
but to those who couldn't afford it, must of been painful missing out, one somehow understands.
There was also the question, which crossed one's mind, as to what was being bought and sold?
- a meditative experience the result of Nityanandaji's grace through Swami Muktananda's hold!

Although no one was ever heard to complain about not getting their share of what was being given
and with the attitude of 'the more you put into something the more you'll get back' one was driven.
It also depended a lot on how much in tune you were and what prior preparation had been made;
how sincere you were in your effort also what devotion and faith at the feet of the Guru one laid.

There were no restrictions, it appeared, to either old or young, male or female to begin meditation,
all could profit and benefit in one way or another in the process and practice of Self contemplation.
One had to have an open mind and heart to receive and partake surely of the Grace that was there;
that power of the True Living Master, which was so all pervading, being available for any to share.

Sadgurunath Maharaj Ki Jai
_________________
This is a tribute poem to Swami Muktananda Paramahansa who I went to see and stay in his ashram back in 1978. From my unpublished book "The Seeds Of Life" compiled in 1996.
Samantha Sep 2018
She smiles
Like the sun kissed flowers
Staring up at the sky
On a field of never-ending blossoms in the summer’s light

But don’t be fooled
There’s a tempest brewing
The cumulonimbus clouds murk over her inner world
So deep into her immaculate soul it’s pursuing

She loves
Like the moon’s devotion
To the vault of heaven
On a glorious gloom

But don’t be fooled
Her darkness is the asphalt
On the terra firma
When the vale is most coruscating

She exposes
Her finest face
Like an overawed beau on the first night
Of *******

But don’t be fooled
Her behemoth lies slightly waken
In the depths of her muddled consciousness
Like a war solider awaiting command

She is two sides
Of the same coin
Tossing for heads or tails
Don’t be fooled


sa
13.09.18
Juan Albarran Aug 2015
When I did sail across the boundless sea
Through waves and wondrous shores, and wayward winds,
I traveled into earth's philosophy,

And saw the ocean’s daunting thrills,
Its majesty become a living thought—
At nature’s host I did but hardly glimpse.

I only wish to see what beauty wrought,
From shoreless seas to forests, meadows, leas,
And many sights that held me overawed.

That endless dream I now no longer see,
For I’m in glory’s blindness now confined,
And now I pray to once again be free.

When I do close my eyes one final time,
I only wish to dwell in nature’s shrine.
Terza Rima.
Yenson Dec 2018
The Highs from Buckingham  'n their sorts from birth
know that ordinary people are never real with them

Overawed and nervous they adopt various guises
Some fawn and bow and scrape while others stay still
Some adopt a nonchalance with masks that's anyone guess
Some are perceptively hostile yet will have very little ill will
Some want to play the fool but disgrace themselves with no finesse

Stored in gene pool and DNA a history hold status
By teenage years gild are known and behaviour modified
Character imbued and preparations placed with no hiatus
It's but an accident of birth that's to be a journey unqualified
You've become a human that others merely see as them and us

What to do but ride the chariots with wisdom 'n  good grace
Lesson told that with privileges comes real responsibilities
No naked pool dives or wanton abandonment in seedy places
Dare you err and open a can with a thousand and one possibilities
Now get out there a sterner stuff always ready to meet the faces

Whatever you do don't tell the tale or reveal the top secret
For the punters and jokers need their figures to revere or hate
You know you are exactly like any other but live in posher garrett
Were they to treat you fairly truthfully real ordinarily with due rebate
You'll miss the sick fevered responses 'n those crazy wild ferrets
with inferiority complexes

For it is in acknowledging you good or bad lies legitimacy
They by their doing or undoing reinforces the illusive status
That underpins your confidence and bestows self importance
The famous lie and say they crave anonymity but panic when totally and truthfully unrecognised as if in a stratus

If The Highs from Buckingham and their sorts
Are treated genuinely real on merit with no reverence or malice
They will panic and become confused, insecure and unsure
Not a practised snub or feigned indifference or rude deliberate slight, these merely reinforces their sense of superiority  

They have all their lives known what to expect, like a fetching lady knows what coming from a hard phallus
In their boudoirs they snigger and laugh, those idiotic punters and commoners really think we are not human and real, what nutcases
they are, what a load of silly *** dummies!
Whereas treat all contacts with them normally and real as you would any other person,
You'll Find Them amazed, nervous and wondering for their
egos are being challenged to be real and normal and human
and that's a feat they are usually unfamiliar with!
Miles Cottingham Aug 2016
A heart is a war, a heart is a shutter
One stream of light is allowed to escape
Far into your chambers a ceiling is painted
Mosaic by name, but truer to form:
An electrical storm we ourselves engineered to
Perpetuate evils eluded before
In the grimness of what lies behind the mind's door
When we met as two fangs in the jaw of a serpent
And you were the flares arcing up towards the sky
And I was the lens overawed by your light
Yes, I was what bent you with colors diffracted
Now I am that glass which your mildew begrimes
Color me flyblown, or color me blind
Marred are the edges around this old glass
The ink inundates and the horn is all hollow
Latched is our gate when the causeways collapse
Besieged now in my ocean of ink
Scanning the night sky for sign of a flare
No whisper, no shutter, no lingering there
Denis Martindale May 2018
When Pastors meet and Pastors pray... God leans down from His Throne,
To listen to the words they say... and any wisdom shown...
He harkens to their fervent needs... desires, hopes and dreams,
For without Him, not one succeeds... regardless of extremes...
Not one can boast, save in the Lord, because of all He's done,
That's why the best are overawed... that God spared not His Son...
To think, Christ died for Pastors, too... yet now their flocks direct,
Perhaps they even pray for you... as one of God's elect...
What insights will such Pastors gain? What blessings will God send?
What projects started yet remain... on which God's saints depend?
I only know that God approves of Pastors young and old
And that through such as these God moves... when they're as good as gold!

Denis Martindale April 2018.
nivek Jul 2016
America is so big, large to the point of immense
my small island perimeter mind cant take in that much
I would be lost out there, way out west
overawed, eyes spinning in their sockets, a kid in a candy store, given too many choices.
Hasan Maruf May 2017
You are scared by my shadow
But overawed by my silhouette!!!
Denis Martindale May 2018
The lovely love of Jesus grows! It's building day by day!
And that's the truth each Christian knows... if faithful still to pray!
It's through such love this world was made! It's how forgiveness came!
The love of Jesus cannot fade! That's why we praise His Name!

The lovely love of Jesus lives... because it cannot die!
Just think of everything it gives! More joys! Less times to cry...
And while there's life, there's hope, of course... with resurrection peace...
A peace surpassing all Man's wars... a peace that cannot cease...

The lovely love of Jesus, friends! That's what God wants for you!
A perfect love that never ends... a love steadfast and true...
Look on His hands, look on His feet... look on His heart as well...
Because I did, my life's complete... God's Son saved me from Hell...

The lovely love of Jesus brings a heart of flesh and more...
The strength with which each angel sings... and they can sing, for sure...
They praise the Lord, they serve the Lord... They harken to our prayers...
That's why they're always overawed... at just how much Christ cares...

Denis Martindale March 2018.
Aesthetichobo Dec 2020
Lifeless slivers of souls I use to know
Beggin to meet their saviors
Chanting empty prayers
Only to be rejected at the hand of God

Futures set in stone
The creature inside begins to eat them alive
Frantically swallowing poison to **** it alone
Without realizing the cure and monster are allies
The people's overawed moans dissipate into the dark
Faith God situation
Eryri Jun 2019
Just as a frog cannot relate to a tadpole,
He could not recognise his younger self.
No retrospective map of life had he,
No string-tied bundles of diaries
Or heavy-hearted Journals
To reunite him with the naïf
Who floated along life's river
Unaware of being navigated by others,
Others who rowed but did not instruct
And abandoned ship on the stroke of his eighteenth
Leaving him overawed and falling overboard,
To eventually flounder upon the shores of independence
Until he was forced to stand on his own two feet of clay,
Like some evolving amphibian
Waddling into life,
Stomping and stumbling in the quagmire of society.
A faux pas here, a faux pas there,
Slow and painful lessons
That built resilience and self-reliance
Resulting in a proudly self-made man,
Now unaccustomed to failure
And whose memories of humiliating failure
Have sunk to the bottom of the river of his life.
Travis Green Feb 2022
You got a swaggerific style
I wanna eye at close range
A deep and powerful voice
I want to hear all the time
Compelling glistening eyes
That take me into your excitingness
Radiant, immaculate lips
I wanna kiss you, **** Zaddy

Pump your hunkiness
Ride you like a Lincoln Town Car
Slide inside your entrance
And become overawed by your incandescence
Your vividly venerable visualness
I wanna make a cash deposit in your heart
Can you be my bank account?
‘Cause all I wanna do is savor your glamorousness

Just to stay close to you
Enveloped in your dazzling faction
Going crazy constantly
I wanna roll with your flow
Mesmerize your mentality
Arouse your reality
Seep into your smoothness
Taste your succulent honey

I wanna feast forever on your flesh
I guarantee you I can command your manliness
I’ll have you screaming my name
I’ll creep around in your dreams
And take you down to my sensual town
Where I can make magical love to you

Baby, you got me having hallucinations
As I travel through your world
As I enchantingly kiss your mustache
You are so sweetly-scented
Perfectly formed, contoured, and streamlined
My bright, blissful ghetto love
I wanna rock and roll with you
Transport you to ecstasy
Yenson Nov 2023
It was after two o'clock in the afternoon or thereabout, he was alone indoors, a knock at the front door rattled the noon silence. Not again, he thought, for he already knew who it would be. He grimaced inwardly and headed to the door. He was wrong, it was'nt the pest neighbour woman from next door, this time, it was her teenage daughter and her younger brother. They tood there like two sour thumbs, presenting an inquiring sight for my already bored eyes.

Oh hello, my mam says can you lend her £5 till her giro arrives tomorrow? says Joan, plaintively, her brother peering inquisitively
behind her. He disguised the bored look and smiled benignly, he was about to say, ' but your mam hasn't repaid the £10 she borrowed last week' but he stopped himself. He hates embarrassing others, do unto others as you want others do unto you, was a strict edict to him. Instead, he opened the door wider, 'come in, I'll get my wallet. Like rats into a cheese larder, they scuttled after him as he turned into his lounge. Turning to face them, he immediately noticed their wide-eyed awe-struck gazes and immediately realized he had never invited anyone of this family indoors before.

He was later to learn, they had stated there was a hidden Palace full of treasures next door. To him, it was just a tastefully decorated and tidy flat. Little did he know what laid ahead. Take a pew, I get my wallet, he said, as he made for the bedroom. He return to see them starring at his record cabinet with the neatly stacked LPs and the gleaming Bang & Olufsen sound system. I see you like your music, says the girl, her eyes darting all over the room, the brother just sat there as if mesmerised. He was now wondering if it was a good idea inviting them in, for he could see from their deportment and gazes, they were overawed and almost ill-at-ease. He mused they might think he was showing off. he handed over the unreturning £5 and hoped they leave.

In years to come he would regret this afternoon. they did not leave after taking the money and he did not have the heart to usher them out. instead they settled in and the girl talked about them moving from Scotland and living in hostels, about not fitting in at school and how communication was difficult because of her accent, about her liking Reggae Music and Bob Marley. I watched her in her worn dress and stained sandals and the boy in faded t-shirt and ***** jeans, I'd listened to the commotion regularily emanating from their flat, was aware of the regular Police visits and the various anti-social happenings around them. Now she's six months pregnant and Bobby who got her pregnant didn't want to know.

I felt sorry for them, my wife and I had felt sorry for them from day one, on numerous occasions, they had come to beg food, eggs, bread sugar and even milk, it was obvious they were dysfunctional and Jim the father was always in and out of jail. I didn't know how to help other than just keep on being their Lender. Sat on our comfortable divan, she continued about missing school and leaving early because she was bullied by her school mates. Now I made a mistake, I had read somewhere that a good way to emparthise is to try and relate with the issue, yes, I said I know what its like to be bullied, I said. I had never been bullied, I was a Class Prefect from Form One, I was an A student, always capable and well adjusted. I was popular, liked by both the Tutors and my school mates and known for my humour and effortless coolness, even if I say so myself.

They say the road to Hell is paved with good intentions, Little did I know, when in trying to empathise by saying 'I know what its like to be bullied' I was making a rod for my own back. Unsuspectingly I was talking to feral people, to predators and extortionist, little did I know, these are damaged morally bankrupt people, little did I know that what I thought were appreciative glances were my properties been scanned and listed for misappropriation, little did I know that in East London and suchlike areas, your neighbour can actually break into your house and steal from you. Little did I know that envy and jealousy can be such potent forces and little did I know that white is right and black is always wrong.

I managed to usher my guests out that afternoon by promising a Musical day to listen to Bob Marley, I shut the door behind me and buried my head in the book I was reading earlier. If you were to tell me what laid ahead for me and mine, I would have told you, you are crazy and would make a super imaginative Fiction writer.
Travis Green Aug 2021
I am a graceful gay gem
Glistening lovingly
With the world around me
Feeling astronomically vindicated
Overawed by the way
The prepossessing scenery
Steals me away from reality
To lock me in its arms
And enswathe me in its thrall

Take me into the nakedness
Of the luminiferous landscape
Feel the ceaseless stillness
Sweep me up off my feet
As I excitedly glide high
In the wide, angelical sky
My life attune with the vast
Enthusiasm breezing beautifully
In the harmonizing horizon

Feeling the grandiloquent gaiety
That environs my human flesh
The honeyed rhythms revolving in hotness
The thorough warmth that embosoms me
Kisses me, strokes me tenderly
Caresses me caringly, escorts me
Into the musical fantasies of heavenly happiness
I am at a place of princeliness, wholeness, peaceableness
Travis Green Jul 2023
I am so enraptured by the magically
Charismatic attractiveness of lustful robust studs
How they take my breath away
Attract my attention with their **** beadtastic faces
Their fiery, passionate attitudes
Their tasty, flirtatious lips

I love how their slick *** appeals give me chills
So smooth, luscious, and rugged
So rude, groovy, and hoodalicious
Their top-notch macho cologne drives me crazy
I am so hooked on their confidence and tallness
Their manly qualities, their awesome sauce
Their explosive mind-blowing dopeness

I am so overawed by the hardness of their chest
Their long, massageable arms
Their flat, spectacular abs
I wanna grab their tight, breathtaking *****
Feel all over their delectable, youthful flesh

Take me to the blazing hot depths of ecstasy
The more I gander at their heavenly handsome entrancingness
They are so freshalicious and sweetalicious
So eatable and kissable, so feelable and squeezable
I wanna stroke their ferociously dope poles

Choke on them, hold on to them
Provoke their senses, tease their manhood
Please their needs, turn on the light to their inside worlds
Take in every last drop of their hotness
Forever **** my  throat, let the spit drip
From his rock-hard **** stick onto my delicious lips

Look them in their distinctive dancing eyes
Carrying a torch for their gorgeousness
With a soft spot for their hotness
So attached to their mantasticness
So sweet on their slickness

Worship their big suckable walnuts
While they pound my mouth with passion
Bring me such sweet delight
Make me sweat as they finesse me forever and a day
Leave me breathless, venture through my vessel

Make me hanker to reach into the extremes of their dreaminess
Make me delirious with happiness
Slap my bouncy ***** flabbergasters
****** at my ripe devourable peaks
Let them know that all I want is them

Just to gaze at them in their nakedness
Work their pipes out for them
Let them feel my ****** energy
The more my moist mouth moves
Up and down their hard, heavy tools

So groovalicous and good-looking
I wanna inhale their life and dreams
Feel their mushroom head on the surface of my alluring lips
Such an untouchable vision of loveliness
Their thugness captures my heart

Such a hairy tattooed attraction
The reverent seamless men of my dreams
Take a shot of their hotness
Draw me close to his smoking hot thunder
As I inspect their impressive stretchers

Put in the zone, make me moan
Make me so erotically hot on their exaltedness
My top-drawer macho showstoppers
The best men I could ever had
I can’t get enough of their immersiveness

The way they got me floating on air
Yearning to share their worlds with mine
Feel oneness with them
Sinking deep into the red-hot beat
Of their thugged-out striking frames

My scrumptious gangbuster lover boys
I wanna absorb them to the core
Feel their crunkness plunge into my system
Loving them that much more
**** the **** out of their thick fun sticks

Put my back into it, move my hips
Spit on their ****, show them how addicted I am
To their unfuckwithable unforgettable exquisiteness
Discover their essentially authentic history
Surrender to all of them as they clamber up
To an exhilarating elevation and *******
His rich, thick, and nutritious man gravy
All over my bright, rapt face
Onoma Apr 12
a shadow marionette of an

anthropoid, is controlled by superstrings.

it is bound to the outermost groove

of a blackhole, whose last audible

recording sounds from it.

exclusively sent down to the surface

of deep sea oceans across the earth.

occasionally overawed fisherman will

see the performance of its danse macabre

when dawn's most brilliant.

becoming incontinent when hearing the

extinction of sound via song.

— The End —