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Jack Aylward Oct 2015
Transparent glows of hue;
Like you
In the dew of light
Making love
The blue
Of night.
In your eyes
On the bed,
In your heart,
In your soul.

The dreams you have kept
Are in a jar
Along with the sweet tears
You had wept
As they are swept
Into the air
Of promised shapes
And colours
Gleaming smoothly.

You lie there asleep
With your hair
In drapes of gold.
On the ceiling
Prisms you hold
On the the nakedness
Of your *******,
In your heart,
In your mind.

©Jack Aylward
RAJ NANDY Aug 2018
Dear Poet Friends, I conclude this series on The Enigma of Time by mentioning few important features about the concept of Time according to Modern Philosophy and Science. I have used a
simple format, and also tried my best to simplify the concepts for your kind appreciation. Unfortunately, there is no provision on this Poetry Site to show Diagrams to elucidate! If you like this one, kindly repost the same for wider circulation! Thank you, Raj Nandy, New Delhi.
                      PART THREE – BY RAJ NANDY

UNREALITY Of TIME : Mc Taggart’s ‘A’ and ‘B’ Series:
Now skipping through the pages I come to Modern Philosophy, with Mc Taggart the British philosopher of the 20th Century.
He had acquired a substantial following with his 1908 paper on the ‘Unreality of Time’ initially.
With his quibbling argument he states, that moments in his ‘A’ Series of Time are either of past tense, present tense, or of future tense.
It is all about human perception, since we experience the past through our memories;
Become aware of the present through our senses, while future is pretty unknowable.
Here time appears to be flowing through us, as nothing remains stable around us!

In his ‘B’ Series of Time Mc Taggart expresses differences in moments of time as either Before or After,
Without using the tenses used in his ‘A’ Series of Time.
All parts in time can be expressed equally as points along a time line, in the absence of past, present, and future tense;
While here we appear to be flying through time in a metaphorical sense!
Thus in the ‘A series’ time appears to be flowing through us, but in ‘B series’ we seem to be flying through time on a timeline created by us!
Therefore, Mc Taggart finds both the ‘A’ and ‘B’ Series describing Time to be inadequate and also contradictory;
And he finally concludes that Time is unreal and does not exist in reality!

How Mc Taggart’s Theory Was  Updated :
Modern Philosophers have re-casted Mc Taggart’s theory in term of findings of Modern Physics.
His A-Theory is updated into ‘PRESENTISM’, which holds that only thing that is real is the ‘present moment’.
In ‘Presentism’ time has no past or future, and time has no duration either!
All things come into existence and drop out of existence, and past events no longer exist;
And since the future is undefined or merely potential, it too does not exist!

His B-theory is re-formulated into ‘ETERNALISM’ or the ‘Block Universe’, influenced by the later Theory of Relativity.
‘Eternalism’ holds that past events do exist even if we cannot immediately experience them, and future events also exists in a very real way.
The ‘flow of time’ we experience is just an illusion of consciousness.
Since in reality, time is always everywhere in an eternal sense!

Theory of Growing Block Universe:
It was proposed by the Englishman CD Broad in 1923, as an alternative to ‘Presentism’ where only the present exist;
And also as an alternative to ‘Eternalism’ where past, present, and future together also exist.
In ‘Growing Block Universe’ only the past and the present exist, but not the future.
Since the growing of the block happens in the present, with a very thin slice of space-time continuously coming into existence;  
Where consciousness as well as the flow of time are not active within the past,  
But they can occur only at the boundary of this ‘Growing Block Universe’!
Few scholars this concept did criticise, saying that in this theory the word ‘now’ can no longer be used to define Time!

But according to Einstein, this perception of ‘now’ that appears to move along a timeline, creating the illusion of ‘flow of time’, arises purely as a result of human consciousness;
And the way our brains are wired due to our evolutionary process, enabling us to deal with the world around us in a practical sense.
“People like us, who believe in Physics, know that the duration between the past, present, and the future is only a stubbornly persistent illusion,’’ said Einstein.

A poem on ‘The Paradox of Time’:
Now to lighten up my Reader’s mind, I present only the first three stanzas from ‘’The Paradox of Time’’, composed by the British poet Austin Dobson:
  “Time goes, you say? Ah no!
   Alas, Time stays, we go;
      Or else, were this not so,
  What need to chain the hours,
  For youth were always ours?

  Ours is the eye’s deceit
  Of men whose flying feet
     Lead through some landscape low;
  We pass, and think we see
  The earth’s fixed surface flee,
     Alas, time stays, we go!

  Once in the days of old
  Your locks were curling gold,
     And mine had shamed the crow.
  Now, in the self-same stage,
  We’ve reached the silver age,
  Time goes, you say? - ah no!
       Alas, time stays, we go!”
Brief Background:
I commence with quotes from the ‘Book of Genesis’ - Chapter One, along with my thoughts about Light and Time,
Before concluding this series with Albert Einstein’s concept of Space-Time.

“And God said, “Let there be light,” and there was light. God saw that the light was good, and he separated the light from the darkness. God called the light “day,” and the darkness he called “night.” And there was evening, and there was morning—the first day. ……And God said, “Let there be lights in the vault of the sky to separate the day from the night, and let them serve as signs to mark sacred times, and days and years, and let them be lights in the vault of the sky to give light on the earth. And it was so.”
                                                      - BOOK Of GENESIS Chapter One.

Since ancient days, Light had acquired a religious and a spiritual significance.
Since Light became associated with goodness, intelligence and ultimate realty;
Light accompanies transcendence into Nirvana of Buddhist religious philosophy.
In due course the Sun began to be worshipped as an important live-giving deity.
As seen in the symbolic form of Egyptian Sun God Ra, and the Greek gods Helios and Hyperion as the Sun god and god of Light respectively.
In Hindu mythology Surya is the Sun god, and Ushas the goddess of Light.
Huitzilopochti, both the Sun god and god of War of the Ancient Aztecs was kept pleased with human sacrifice!

Plato, during the 5th Century BC said that God was unable to make the World eternal, so gave it Time,  - “as the moving image of eternity.”
While some seven hundred years later St. Augustine in his ‘Confessions’ said,
That when God created the universe out of darkness with light, “the world was also created with Time, and not in time.”
Thus along with light, time also began to flow, while our scientists discovered a connection between the speed of light and time, few centuries ago!
To understand this connection between light and time, we must first understand something about the properties of light.
Light is the visible part of the electromagnetic spectrum* which can be perceived by our human eye.         (See Notes Below)
As seen in the red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo, and violet colors of the Rainbow in the sky,
When water droplets acting like countless prisms break up white sunlight!
Now this electromagnetic spectrum also contains the ultra violet and infra red spectrum which our eyes cannot see.
But this entire electromagnetic spectrum contains Photons, which are discreet packets of zero mass less energy.
In a vacuum light photons travel at 186,000 miles for second, which Einstein declared as the cosmic speed limit, and as an universal constant.
When a photon strikes the eye, it is turned into electrical energy that is transmitted to the brain to form an image which we call sight.

NOTES : Gama-rays, X-rays, Ultraviolet lights, have shorter wave lengths & more energy than Visible light. But Infrared, Microwave, Radio waves, with larger wave lengths are less energetic than the Visible spectrum of light. Sir Isaac Newton using a prism had discovered the spectrum of visible light, & used the word ‘spectrum’ for the first time in his book ‘Optick’ in 1671.

In his Special Theory of Relativity of 1905, he stated that nothing can move faster than speed of light which is 186,000 miles per second.
This speed of light always remains the same, irrespective of its source and frame of reference.
Now the mass of an object would double if it travels at 90% of light’s speed.
But if the speed of light is reached, mass of an object would become infinite!
Since photons, the quantum particles that make up light have a zero mass, they move at the speed of light.
Even inside the World’s Largest Particle Collider (LDC), located near the French-Swiss Border,
Experiments are carried out only around 99.99% of Light’s speed, in accordance with the Laws of Physics.
Einstein had also shown mathematically that on reaching Light’s speed, Time will come to a standstill!
And should this Light’s speed be exceeded, then Time would start to travel backwards, which becomes a mind boggling concept!
Here we enter into the realm of science fiction, which has been described by HG Wells  in his popular novel ‘The Time Machine’.
But to become a time traveler shall always remain our cherished desire and dream!

NOTES: Only mass less particles like the photon can travel at light speed, photons experience no time, they do not age. Objects with mass cannot reach the speed of light since in that case its mass will become infinite. Also, one cannot see the fourth dimension because of Lorenz Contraction, which is also related to stopping of time, for at the speed of light an object will shrink to zero length! Also, particles interact with the Higgs' Field present all around to pick up mass, excepting photons which do not interact with this Higgs' Field.

Now Einstein’s theory of 1905 is called ‘Special’, because it explains how space and time are linked for objects that are moving in a straight line at a greater speed but which is constant.
Time moves relative to the observer, and objects in motion experience ‘Time Dilation’.
Meaning, time moves slowly when it is in motion, as compared to one who is standing still, -  a relative comparison.
This can be further explained by the ‘Twin Paradox’, where a 15 year old travelling in a spaceship at 99.5% speed of light for a period of 5 years,
Returns back to Earth to find himself to be only 20 years old.
But to his surprise he finds, his twin brother on Earth who was left behind, has reached the ripe age of 65 !

Limitations of Special Theory of Relativity:
It was confined to non-accelerating bodies only, and after ten years of deliberation,
Einstein added gravitational force field, space-time curvature, and acceleration, -
To formulate his General Theory of Relativity with satisfaction.

Isaac Newton during the 17th Century spoke about 'absolute time' and 'absolute space', accordance to the understanding of science of his Classical Age.
Space was the arena where the drama of the universe was played out, and this arena was passive, eternal, and unchanging no doubt.
Time too was absolute with an independent existence, and continued to beat independently like the heart beat of Space!
Newton also gave us the Laws of Motion, and Gravity, with more massive objects exerting more Gravity than a less massive one in reality.
Now one aspect of Special Relativity is that space and time are merged into a four-dimensional space-time entity,
They do not exist as separately as envisaged by Newton and Descartes during the 17th Century.
Some 250 years later Albert Einstein, defined Gravity as a curvature of Space-time.
Einstein also tells us that gravity can bend light, which travels along the curvature of this space-time.
Gravity is flexible, it could stretch like a fabric warping of space-time caused by objects present within it, in fact Gravity is the shape of space-time itself!
The Moon rolls around the curvature created in space-time fabric by the heavier object the Earth,
Just like the massive Sun which creates the depression and curvature around it for the planets of our solar system to orbit round the Sun. *

Einstein’s space-time has been likened to a stretched out vast rubber sheet,
Where heavier the planet, more depression it creates on the fabric of space-time along with its own gravitational field.
Einstein’s Space is not passive like that of Newton, but has a dynamic presence.
Interwoven with Time, Space tells Matter how to move, while Matter tells Space-Time how to curve - in this dynamic presence!
The constant speed of light at 186,000 miles per second, is just a measure of space of something which travels over time;
But both space and time had to adjust themselves to accommodate the constant speed of light!
Thus space, time, and the speed of light are all unified in the General Theory of Relativity,
We owe all this to Albert Einstein, one of the greatest scientists of our Century.
NOTES: **Planets orbiting the Sun do not fall back into the void of space due to the attraction of gravity, and also due to their individual speed of acceleration maintained in orbit as per Kepler's Second Law of Planetary Motion. Mercury has the fastest orbital speed of 48 km per second, Venus at 35 km per sec , and Earth at 30 km per sec. as their orbital speeds. Planets further from the Sun require lesser orbital speed.

During his later years Einstein was secretly working to find a ‘Theory of Everything’,
Which would ultimately replace the erratic tiny micro world of Quantum Mechanics.
His Theory of General Relativity had dealt with the functions of gravity at the greater macro level of the universe only.
So he hoped to extend this theory to find an all embracing Unified Field Theory.
For at the subatomic quantum level, as the Englishman Thomson discovered in 1897,
The electrons inside an atom at times behaved in an alien fashion and were very unstable!
This world of the subatomic particles is a wondrous world where time becomes chaotic;
Where the position of the electrons cannot be predicted with certainty!
Einstein called this unpredictable and unstable behaviour of electrons as "spooky action at a distance"!
In the ‘double-split experiment’ it was seen, that the light photons behaved both like waves and as particles, -
Even though the speed of light remained constant.

Now despite Einstein's dissatisfaction with Quantum Mechanics it is rather ironical,
That the Nobel Prize in Physics was awarded to Einstein for his work on the ‘Photoelectric Effect’ at the Quantum level;
Which for the first time had suggested that Light travelled in Waves and also as Particles ( i.e. as photon)!
This observation led to the development of electron microscope, solar panels, night vision devices, at a later date.
Since his Special and General Theory of Relativity considered as ‘The Pillars of Modern Physics’, was still being examined by the Scientific Community;
And they could be proved and accepted only subsequently.

During the 1970s the proponents of ‘String Theory’ had claimed, They found a Theory of Everything, following Einstein’s quest.
They claimed that micro vibrating open and closed looped strings gave rise to some 36 particles at the subatomic level;
But also required 10 dimensions for this 'String Theory' to operate!
In our Standard Model of Physics we have only 18 particles as on date, therefore due to lack of scientific evidence,
There was no Noble Prize for those ‘String Theory’ proponents!
Efforts are on to find a Unified Theory of Everything, and to understand the mysteries of God’s infinite universe, -
We finite humans have just made a beginning!

Now, to reduce the length of my composition I conclude with a short verse by the famous novelist and poet DH Lawrence, -
Who had shocked Victorian England with his explosive ****** novel “Lady Chatterley’s Lover”,
Which later inspired Hollywood, and a film got made.

“I like relativity and quantum theories
because I don’t understand them,
and they make me feel as if space shifted about like
a swan that can’t settle,
refusing to sit still and be measured;
and as if the atom were an impulsive thing
always changing its mind.”  – DH Lawrence.

Thanks for reading patiently,
‘All Copy Rights Are With The Author Only’, - Raj Nandy of New Delhi.
Robert C Howard Feb 2019
Morning Rainbow

Myriad prismatic crystals,
     refract the morning sun-streams -
painting layers of spectral arches
     across the misted horizon.

Eyes turned to the western skies,
     we suspend our meteorological selves  
acquiescing to miracles unveiled before us -
     un-beckoned and scarcely earned,
proffering thanks for the radiant epistle
     of healing, hope and promise,
artfully encoded in transfigured light.

Synthetic Refractions

A luminary ballet takes center stage
    when synthetic refractors come to play:
crystal pendants bathe our foyers
      with dazzling swaths of color.
Hazy coronas encircle streetlamps
      discovered by headlights through the fog.
A science class prism slices light rays
     into pre-ordered spectral strata.

If the sky denies us a rainbow,
     we can always fashion one of our own
and we do!

Spectral Sound

Before there was music,
     bird songs brushed our souls
and the murmur of woodland streams
     held us captive by their banks.

Soon we learned to sing and tint the air
    With prisms of wood and wire and metal
and to color soundscapes in our spirits
     With songs of wonder, joy and longing.

Before there was music,
     bird songs brushed our souls.

Robert Charles Howard, 2019
This is a rewrite and expansion of a prior poem called Morning Rainbow. The poems are design to go with an original piece for solo flute also called Prisms.
The Willow Dec 2015
The other woman:
She is the one we all agree
to hate.
Wass Apr 2014
The burning flowers underline the sunset and 
Dash before the fire (k)night catches them.
Ripe berries cheaply
but hopefully their vitality won't burst the pulp pulsating

Crumbling flowers
crumb the floor
And Prisms of catching silver refract rose quartz and petal
and crimson

Bejewelled in Scarlet,
the air,
as the (k)night approaches, grows colder,
Unsure of whether he will bring
solace or strife.

In his chariot
he flies faster than the bees which buzzed around the fruit flutes
in the morning and among the trumpeting bluebells.

Stars fleck the (k)night
like freckles
and the milky ways resins stain his spouting steams lovely. 

The (k)nights kind onyx reaches his crescendo and the floating moon danced drowsily through the cloud's spiralled tendrils

Which diminish as dawn
so their Tentilcles
droop to crinkled tissue paper sheathed in pink.

And so the (k)night
rides on into
The frivolous sunrise.
The lowing, glossy calves
in sage beside the ***** fields
cast a beloved ambience 

As though
we are safe
in the knowledge
that the sky will remain
topaz and the leaves
forever emerald.
Anne J Feb 2019
Her Imperious Canticle rewarded
From the butterflies of monarchy
Mermaid scales are her bouquet
A ombre is the debut
Crystal corals are the stars on her face
Below pink rings that scale a tune
Which the winged beauties will charm in too
An amazing debut for the see through
Of a dynasty that glows in the prism moon.
My first poem of 2019, based on this amazing artwork:
Please follow this artist, she is astounding. Also, I tried to make an unrhyming poem that instead focused on description...Free verse is the name of the genre, thx Flo for reminding me lol
SøułSurvivør Jul 2019
I take in the
Taste of prisms
With a tender tongue

Blue,  violet, verdant green
Magenta marvelous
Yellow, mellow light
The flavors of the sun
Shining through crystal
Covering my lips
Cherry red

The Taste Of Prisms
Enervated inspiration
And the ecru canvas
Comes alive with color!

I've joined several artist's sites on Facebook and I'm getting very inspired to paint and draw. I want to see my canvas coming alive! Thus this poem...
Julia Van Goor Apr 2014
O Geometry,
How I loathe the,
with thy prisms and proofs,
and thy figures and formulas,
and thy compasses and conjectures!
Why must thou require such mental strain?

        - Wait,
        What's that you say?
        Calculus next?

O my dearest Geometry,
How I adore thy common sense and logic-based nature!
How I dread the day when we shall be forced to part!
Letter Poem
The Willow Dec 2015
Are we really the ones to determine what is unforgivable and
what is not?))
Thank you for reading my full journey of Prisms and the Other Woman.

It is the story about love vs. lust, manipulation, forgiveness, and respect.
And for that I am forever grateful.
The Willow Dec 2015
I have nearly always been
"The other woman"
In one person's mind or another.
Good for a distraction
But never
For anything
I was an easy ****.
Perhaps it's because I believe in the decency of mankind more than
Arcassin B Jan 2015
hey guys this is not a poem but if you go on my profile and see my cover pic that is my new group called the prisms if anyone wants to join !!
kik me @ abpoet18

We'll discuss things related to poetry,
And I'll add you to my group chat,
But thats only if you have Kik messenger :-)
See you there !!!!
The prisms are coming !!!!!
Julianna Eisner May 2014
Kali at the door,
Did Shiva enter yet, dear?

I dream of a future that never arrives,
of exploration, wonderment, and words
draped in enchantment
in that space of
(since filtered effervescence arises, well, flat, doesn't it?)
to speak the language of
here and now
that breathes clarity in
open expansiveness.

Now has always been written on the
pages like,
what what what what
and yet,
here, running in forests.

Winds lift and energize
caution and wings,
to say one thing
that does not go awry,
it is
like, what what what what.

A list of yeses and noes,
and perlexed replies,
hello? integral?

A museum.
Relics casting shadowed projections
reflected through prisms through prisms through prisms
through prisms.
Nonetheless, I let go,
I toss you like a sphere

against my heart-caged ribs,

right back to me,

                 always and forever


I dream of a future
of exploration, wonderment, and words
draped in enchantment
in that space of
Arcassin B Oct 2014
Hey guys ✋✋ this is not a poem

Ah here's the deal I'm recruiting like 6 poets to be in my new group called the prisms,
Ill  be making group chats for those poets
But only if you have a Kik messenger account,

Recruiting starts from now and ends on Tues,
So if you wanna be involved u gotta have a kik ,
And you gotta be an awesome poet,

Thanks so much !!✌✌✌✌
The Prism Group
Entheogens, such as:
Tetrahydrocannabinol, Lysergic Acid, Dimethyltryptamine, Mescaline and Psilocybin,
(of Cannabis, LSD, DMT, Peyote and Mushrooms, respectively)
(None of which Firefox thinks are spelled correctly, including 'Entheogen'..)
have many unfounded and illogical taboos about them
for the seemingly sole reasons that those who;
do not know themselves well enough,
do not realize the magnitude of what they are getting themselves into,
make themselves seem crazy or otherwise endangered or dangerous while having Revelations.

Heed not the Fear-Mongers:
(they generally fear for their own sake)

An Entheogen is a psychoactive substance that brings forth the Divine within one's self;
it is a temporary death of Ego
a temporary glimpse of Heaven
a brief window of Enlightenment.

An Entheogen is the basis for each major Religion on this planet.
Many established Religions have in turn proceeded to attempt to stamp them out
as if to eliminate healthy competition for their precious power hungry Dogmas
(similar to Wal-Mart, but in terms of Religion as opposed to Business, which is eerily similar)

Vines with DMT in them inspired early philosophers in Southeast Asia and South and Middle America.
Mushrooms crammed with Psilocybin were the basis of the monotheisms of the Middle East.
LSD has been a major pivotal factor in many mediums of art since it's 'accidental' synthesis in the 1930s.
Peyote has been a staple for North American shamen and mystics for thousands of years.
Cannabis, as well, has many mystical applications and medicinal properties used worldwide.

And yet,
all of these things are a massive no-no in commonplace Law worldwide
which is a detrimentally terrible turn
for the Spirituality, interconnectivity and thus Enlightenment
of Humanity.

The lack of unbiased, scientific, accurate and up-to-date information about Entheogens
is a tragedy paralleled only by the unnecessary loss of Rights, Freedom and Life,
not to mention the forgone personal lessons one can gain from Entheogens,
as a result of the censorship of sensible, reliable, consistent, fact-based Information.

Entheogens are only an inherently bad idea
if an individual is so ignorant of themselves as well as the nature of their Reality
that they wouldn't be able to handle the aspects of either
brought forth so abruptly by the Entheogens.

Entheogen: To make manifest the Inner Divine
Psychedelic: To make manifest the Mind

These two things are one in the same; yet one is far more stigmatized:

Entheogens/Psychedelics are vital
if we are ever to learn about the parts of ourselves and our Reality
which are too obscure to recognize in everyday life.

Entheogens make apparent the interconnectedness of the Universe;
They break down the superficial and illusory barriers 'twixt Self and Godself:

They are Death of Ego,
which is frightening to Egoslaves;
They are disillusionment,
temporary Enlightenment;
Mystic Teachers.
Shamen in Botanical form.

Entheogens are Divine gifts:
Terrestrial Shepherds for the Soul, Prisms of Divinity;
Ignored, excommunicated, exiled and squandered by Societies
in the supposed name of 'safety';

Safety for those wrongfully in Power, perhaps

We have truly crucified the Prophets.
It didn't just happen in Mythological history;
it has never stopped happening,
it's still happening right here and now.

What personal freedoms are we willing forgo in the name of totalitarianism?
None, I would hope.

To further illustrate the blinding absurdity:

Should we trade in our legs just so we wouldn't need to worry about stepping on pinecones?
I sure wouldn't.
Should we trade in our eyes to preclude seeing things we find uncomfortable?
I sure wouldn't
Should we trade in our voices in fear that we won't be heard?
I sure wouldn't
Should we lay down and accept Authoritarianism?
I sure won't

Would you, were it law?
though I would sure hope not,
many have

Law of this sort is an appeal to both Fear and Authority,
all of which are arbitrary
yet all of which mutually and relatively define each other.

Thus I implore of thee to heed these words:

*Civil Disobedience is a Virtue.
Reflections of cultural Biases are everywhere.
Culture like this tends to suffocate Humanity.
Culture is a Cult that 'ure' (you're) in.
patty m Mar 2015
The lake reflects the blueness of your eyes,
my hands tremble as I hold the photgraph
feeling depths of emotion,
wishing your hands would touch me now.

Summer's warmth floats in heated halos
easy feelings basking in saturated glow.
I melt in the reflection of love's golden rays.
Photographs of picnics beneath cool trees,
shaded smiles, you waving one frame.
In that moment you stand where
my feet are submerged,
drops of water hanging mid-air.
I hold my hand out in the dry July sun,
prisms of love reflecting everywhere,
but you're not here.
emma green Jun 2012
“My heart wanders the mossy mess of wet country, reliving a time when youth had charm, hand held hand, letters were written with not a classroom blot in sight, kisses were blushed.. and boys ran home to hide their eagerness.

Life was what it was, merely a game of engendered differences.”

scribbled the poet with his special pen. Leaning against an oak - as proud a tree as he was a man.

There was no need to make excuses for his silence here. Why apologise for watching space fill with swirling prisms across such a wonderfully vast panorama? So many greens in this god-forsaken county. But it was refuge for someone like him, was an escape route to whatever the future held. Anyway, where he was concerned, guilt was neither muse nor amusing, it merely lay a rough stony path ready to trip the careless walker he‘d almost become.

‘Oblivious to life in the real world’, he’d been told at least once a week for far too many years. He laughed, those words would never be uttered again.

of buttery budding green
dripping flavour ‘cross soil,

He shook his head, trying to be rid of thoughts, emotions: ‘I don’t want to think of her. ‘HA, too late! There and then the six o’clock in the morning drew his woman from the shadows of deception. He smiled. In his ragged mind she became .. she became a sapling formed of malleable clay. ‘I want to shape her.. a touch here and here so her ******* flourish with pleasure. Then, I‘ll stroke her right side.hip.thigh. to where the skin is both silk soft and a touch of treble plaited gossamer, that trimmed topiary of woman awaiting her future.

Who knows, in my next life perhaps I’ll be a sculptor and lay claim to the master’s crown. I’ll become lord of much and more.. why not, someone has to!’

hands soft as sugar spun
in quadrants arched quiescent,
harmonic pleasuring,
ripe as berries brown
and fatal flawed.”

Man scratched the pen against vellum, then.. oh then, heard its crickling cry; remembered the rippling of her moan.. the call of his name.. the echo of his weeping into her. Then her - fingers gripping where space permitted.. palms moist and made fluorescent.. back arching.. hair flying.. falling onto each of the four crumpled pillows. Then, then.. becoming a streaming sway of tressed love battling breath. And the smell of wild garlic filled the air

never to ward off his fears, nor outsmart his demons. He was meant to be taken by the sight of a woman both too good and bad for him.

“Feeling night
a creep of nails tip touch
in devil’s bliss
where all men meet a foe,
but headlong thrills
as hell”

He took his pen and with a mighty shout, ****** a myriad of dark memories into his own heart - his memories, his memories - not hers. She’d laughed when he asked her to stay with him, to be his .. forever. Until that moment the pen had been softly ****** between his full lips but moved to be gentled between index finger and thumb. Her rampaging words struck home. They broke his silence, they hurt.

Whirling and swirling it over her *******, his pen became a weapon. He taunted her skin with a pen ripe with red ink, swore and wept, swore again. His hand fell screaming into her flesh, not once but a dozen frantic times. Finally her breath became a dense gushing cloud which swiftly rose so dark that, within seconds, once pure angels fell to earth looking akin to a chimney sweep’s boys - unregonisable as once human.

kiss kiss full lips
gleaming at the point of red,
so sharp whilst ..
poppies parchment pollen

The body was found months later. It had laid until bronze leaves and golden were drifting upon and across what had once been a face, and now discovered by shocked, sickened walkers. When the police arrived, all they found lying near to the man was a pen and dulled pages within a leather binding.

A forensic scientist is still trying to decipher the wording on the vellum, what words he’s found to date are quite beautiful - or so he told his wife in an aside. She shrugged, he’d always been a strange man. Should have married her own kind .. too late now. Marianne looked away, unused to anything remotely like conversation from him. She smiled, turned the mirror to the wall and waited ..

© 2012 Emma Joy
c Apr 2019
We are bending light
Allowing this
Distorted Reality
To appear somewhat
Normal, almost.
Stephen E Yocum Dec 2013
Funny the things we recall.
Images that flash through our brain.
Some most vivid for me were of an old man.
Skin like creased parchment paper,
Lined and yellowed with age.
The veins visible just below the surface,
of a thin nearly transparent veneer.
Liver spotted flecks of red,
Charted paths from the toil of many years,
Palms callused forever from a life time of labor.
Big fingers knotted and misshapen,
The two inch tip of one gone missing,
Saw taken, at age sixteen.

Looking at those old hands, one could hardly guess
That still there remained gentleness in their caress.
For an old dog, or a little grandson in need of some
Companionable affection or parental love.

Those aged hands could also make things,
Toy sailboats, and wooden trains,
complete with caboose,
And cow catcher guard.
A cool flute whistle that actually worked,
He said it was like the Indian’s made,
Out Oklahoma way.
And he would know,
He cowboyed there.

His hands taught me to tie my shoes,
Open and close my first pocket knife.
Those same hands could become birds,
rabbits, butterfly's, all sorts of things.
When projected up on the wall,
Silhouetted by a naked back light.
His hands knew magic too,
Pluck silver coins right out of my ears.

His tired face matched his hands,
visual weathered, creased and
wrinkled road maps,
Of 89 years of rugged roads traveled.

Yet, his lively pale green eyes remained
forever fraudulently youthful prisms,
Eyes and spirit of a much younger man within.

But it is his hands most of all I shall remember,
Their imposing look and their reassuring
touches of tenderness.

I shall never forget my Grandfather’s hands.
For my Granddaddy Clarence M. with Love and remembrance.
Amanda Evett Dec 2012
In the hope that my knees will touch rainbows
I arch my back to the heavens.
If I close my eyes tight I can almost feel the flit
Of a hummingbird’s wings on my cheekbone,
                my brow.
And yet there is, too, beauty in the imperfections-
Holes in socks,
                        cold coffee,
                                           weatherworn hands.

For all that we see hides the unseen,
The blind curling of bodies towards one another and
Snow falling in the deep chill of the night.
Because the fact that we still bleed and babies cry
Means that we are alive
Too bold to lie down and die.

Shall I kiss the wind with the same sweet sorrow
That plagues my soul,
Or shall I close my eyes tight

And feel the prism of light
-not unlike a rainbow
every day i see your grinning face,
scowling back at you,
i push the inevitable away,
the extremist christian preacher,
trying to "save" the impressionably intellectual college crowd,
only doing it for the rise of drawing a riot,
on the concrete canvas,
illustrating muddy red abstractions of chaos,
bowing to overlording masters of extremity,
in hopes of burying **** faces,
in prismatic drippings of paint-slathered sand,
eating bland beatings of faint clippings,
yet you stand there,
emasculated in your chronic musings,
without one permeated prism,
embedded in your studded jacket,
is your acceptance of how you could be.
Tommy Randell Feb 2017
Always, always pleased
To be unexpectedly smitten
Like finding the wind comes from trees
Waving their branches in rhythm
Like finding a Poem has meaning
Beyond the words that are written
That the path we follow is true
As we dance through a series of prisms
This poem was written to a moment of insight upon reading a poem 'Mutiny' by Mysidian Bard (qv)
Liner runs thin
as I examine the skin
where I look for a tell-tale mark
Left of a ring that would prove
I'm not alone.
(it's not there)

My back arches and
my body quakes
as deep inside
Infantile sexuality wakes
as my lips let fly
assumed and guessed sighs
of fabricated pleasure
(whatever that is)

They did not teach me these things
I was left to assume
as hearts often do
when they are kept in a room
and ushered away from the pains and joys
of Love

I stare into a mirror
and I stare back
Until all of a sudden
my smile cracks
and I'm left to stare
into the eyes of one
born to lose.

I hug warm pillows
and stroke my own hair
Until I realize he
is not
and will never be there
and I'm left to assemble
a Shattered Glass Heart
with nothing but hammers for tools

But then I see myself
beauty and flaws defined
and at this point I know
the only glass heart I need
is mine
even in pieces, it retains it's strength
and waits to be whole again

So dormant I sit
mesmerized by the prisms the pretty pieces make
as I wait
for a true artist to come
and give this
Shattered Glass Heart
new form
with the heat of reassuring and shared existence
and the grace of gentle words and sweet kisses.
Ek Oct 2018
Sprinkling crystals dipped in glass
ray of prisms breeze my eye
sunshine rhythms hide in grass
floating sugar on the pie

Neon lights pass to scroll
while purple midnight breathes
jacket goosebumps stockings stole
four-wheeled lion grumbly seethes

Honey nectar slumbers my eyes
whitewashed lace tangle my face
gentle buzzings of pastel sky
as cotton candy sank with grace

Open heart box standing in the rain
cries diamonds for to call her name
the poetry train caught riding to Spain
set carnival dewdrops on red flames
Matter is a conduit for Consciousness;
Your Body is a Prism for your Self.
Chakras are sub-prisms
each tuned to a specific vibration
a specific state of being
a specific aspect
of your specific being
Akemi Sep 2013
Twice the fool is the runaway
Who hides his trail, as he hides his ache
All bottle and pills, temporary sleep
Insomniac daze and cheap dinner meals

Static lies on a stationary screen
Radio chatter can’t feed the famine in me
The world is aflame
With no one awake

Sunrise slumber
I fall unconscious to the restless on midnight pavement
Breaking bones or breaking bottles
Selling skin or dealing dust to lost souls
Hearts tucked and folded from the cold

Future oblique
I dare you, predict my dreams
Late riser / never bloomer

Packs a bag, a change of clothes
To deadbeat joints, and dead end posts
Been as many years gone as daily cigarettes smoked

Bloodshot symmetry eyes
I see in every passerby
Like the whole city gone up and left their troubles behind,
You and I

We’re cerebral projections
Locked into motor whirs, recursive disintegration
Status acknowledged, clean cut
Black and white since day one

Mould breaker, you’re told you’re out of line
Gutter graves or veins, stay your place or fall behind
The only constant is the throne
You sit upon or come to view as your body’s own
The red light stare, blue flicker flares
Blare on your skin, like prisms, colour wear
Better to fade to grey than know yourself
For what you truly are, just a shade of catch and tell

Dire straits
No deviation
Full advance
Or desolation
Empty eyes
Golden restraints
I don’t want wealth
I just want change
10:24pm, September 24th 2013 - 12:37 pm, September 26th 2013
I'll probably edit this for longer; don't delve into the protagonist enough, and the ending comes too sudden.

This is about how most people hide away from class gaps. They don't confront them, they don't acknowledge them. It's about the helplessness of people born into the lower class, how they're labelled by location, speech, dress and race. Prejudice and stereotyping.
How, despite all the change that happens in the world, there still seems to be space for cruelty, ignorance, political BS, controversial lies over truth.

Inspired by:
Arcassin B Jul 2015
Hey guys , as you know (and probably don't) I have Poetry group called the Prisms , where we collaberate and make our own poems,

Two choices :
You can message me here and qualify to join our page on HP where Ill add your name to the bio...
Or you can message on kik messenger @ abpoet18
And I'll add you to the kik group which is of course the Prisms :)

So if you interested , just message me anytime !!! :)
;-) ;-) ;-) happy fourth of July
A-McIntyre Sep 2018
what happens when you are so in love with a thought you could never dream.
       not like being on a timeout, or friend zoned.
  like wishful thinking of a perfect scene, or being.
Can most of us say that we ever truly fell in love at first sight, i can.                  
      i can tell you how the sun shines for the birds and blooms. i can tell you how the  diamonds are hand painted into the night sky and even have their own stories.
   i can tell you all the angles of the prisms, in the colors of a rainbow.
i can describe in perfect detail sculpted cheekbones and a smile so warm everything
    melts inside. 
 i can say how my heart aches to even be known. in the world, in the universe,
   in the front of someone's mind. not just known but really, and truly known by something, anything, anyone.
      i can tell you that my soul aches for more...
   i can tell you how my life essence is tied to more.....
after everything so far.
          i can also tell you that i doubt if anybody even knows my name.
its a mess, im used to it...... (:
Curt A Rivard Sr Jun 2013
The smoke signals are rising higher and higher
Spelling out the truth after you had lit the fire
now your spirit soars high above the funeral pyre
And In a matter of split seconds you’ll be living out all your heart’s desire.
Looking for why screams fill the night and how the madness steals the light
Because when you close your eyes your seeing floating smiling skulls and with no death fright
No matter what you do, no matter how hard you try, you know you have seen them all before
Faces in morgue room when they were gone asking them why did they not put up a fight and decide to go into the light?
Was I marked before and just didn’t know it then? But it’s now seen on my right hand
I’m an aimlessly wondering nomad who can see everything I even see the Promised Land
Standing looking deep inside, holding a black mirror to a silver mirror forever I will walk that pathway
A path I know I can control with the slightest turn of my hands and I can never look behind
When the smoke came billowing out I felt that I now have a new passion for life and that’s now where I want to always stay.
A secret hiding in the jungle rainforest is buried deep away from the sun’s rays, it’s under the dirt
Put negative thoughts aside, your life is not broken and you’re not going to lose your mind
Focus on what you really want and know your only a one of a kind, trust me, believe me, it won’t hurt.
A foul smell is in the air, a pungent taste is on your tongue, snowflakes are forming inside the glass as you chase the holy smoke
Never felt this way ever before, so fast it rushed up apon me I closed my eyes tight but why  can I still see?
Now I know another one of his magic tricks and also how he made the blind once again see.
Prisms of colors in a kaleidoscope,  laser precision lines atop of pyramids  
The truth to what Stonehenge really is, the asteroid belt being formed right before me
Easter Island being nothing more than just the people who were turned to salt for looking back
It gave upon me the gift of prophesy, the answer to Samson’s riddle and it also showed myself being conceived, what more will it show me?
The greatest euphoria I now have felt to date, it’s in my system, it’s in me, its in you, is my brain having  another overload dumping or
am I having a DMT hallucination?
Please someone hurry and please tell me.
(SirCARSr 6-12-13)
There is no night
no day
no love
no way not a minute to say
or an hour left to pray
no more games to play
or debts I should pay
everything is grey.

No blacks
no whites
no colours to light up the nights
no stars in the sky
or tears left to cry
and nothing to say
the whole World is grey.

Where once I had seen
verdant valleys of green and the reddening of a rose
and colours had put on great colourful shows
I now see places
obsolete, formed by the desperate concreting of dreams over blue mountain streams and in the scenes of a play
I watch my life turning grey
and I'm old
I have sold the fountain of truth for a look back at youth that I was
and in the young man I see
a colourful rainbow that once upon a long time ago was me
but no *** of gold no more colours to hold and nothing more to say
everything is grey.
The Willow Dec 2015
Bleeding red is normal.
Others cheer the bleeders on:
Yeah! You should be mad!
You deserve better!
What they did was unforgivable!

I bleed light,
Invisible to the eye,
and only those who hold
can see the
escaping my body.
So when people see me bleeding light, they assume it’s not that bad.
It couldn't hurt.
They cannot see
what is actually there.
I am dripping with the shades of
Throat choked with sunflowers
bluebells bellowing my moans.
But when light leaves a body,
There is only dark left.
Red creates
red, it fuels itself.
But light? When it bleeds, it leaves.
And only I am left.
But I can collect the flowers from my veins
And give them to others
Where no one sees.
So perhaps,
It will all be worth it when I hand another bleeder a bouquet of
"Me too"s and " I've been there"s.
I've grown a garden of empathy, and it's time to give
The flowers
Catherine Paige May 2010
One wolf to another
I crave fear, I live on it
Decisions are made based on it
If I can't feel the rush of anxiety
Then I can't feel anything at all

Fear is like the catalyst to it all
It's like the prism
Through which I can respond to
The many lights of the world

Nothing is scarier than you
If you mean all that you say
I'm already feeling the symptoms of fear
How can I not?

How is a candle to react
When it's whole life has been lived in darkness
When it finally sees another
The flame burns a new color
The flame burns with the same intensity

Suspicion would be natural
Caution would be instinctual
But what about jealousy
An aching so primal to ***** out
The flame from it's own wick
Just so it can share this new foreign flame

What if it feels like if I were to execute myself
To be alive in this new thing
That as soon as I saw all that I am
Once I saw my demons rush at me
No longer held back be a soul on fire
You would either rush me along side them
Perhaps you would just run away
Maybe I'd even run

More than anything
This wolf in front of you
Emaciated and caught in traps too many to count
Is terrified to the point of psychosis
That she will bite
That she will wound fatally

It's the lack of everything that fuels her
What if one less leak makes the water rush in faster
What if the insanity of loneness
Is a cake walk compared to the hot mess that you inspire
This was written on October 15, 2009.
This was one of my insomniac tangents that kind of was maybe sort of poetic.
Sam Hawkins Jan 2016
something stirred and alive came forth
out of my own heart it spoke
      all creation is of equalities
      sister brother relations
      here is truth

not to let it pass untested
i made an agreement
with belief

     blade of summer grass
     teach me

     dust speck
     gold starshine

     water droplet
     fortuitous spider
     i hear your messages

spider moved in her sun-sparkled circle
she threw me spider kisses

but when i gave her kisses back
some voice came booming

     humanity is the golden crown
     of god's achievement

and the spirit of these words then took flight,
transversed my landscape,
crossed an ocean's width of time

and dropped under the waves
with the natural weight
its distorted truth

practices of superiority
of *******, of killing exploitation
rose from the collective--
flashed their white lightening

but struck counter--
diluting dissolving disarming

greediness and favoritism
manipulation and lies

expectation of privilege
so called divine right

a voice it came again
so that greater love
may have heard itself

     *all creation is conscious
     all is alive all are equal
     none is better or worse
     than another

     remember this
lynn tester Feb 2011
Slowly , slowly the sun awakens
Lighting the soft,dark ,velvet night
Blowing out the stars like candles
Dimming the light of the silver moon

Gently waking the birds from their slumber
To sing their joyful morning song
Shedding its light high over the treetops
Beckoning to the flowers below

Shining on the dew laden grass
Glistening like a carpet of diamonds
Like millions of prisms catching a rainbow
Such beauty to behold

Spreading its light , spreading its warmth
Turning the sky to azure blue
Casting its rays to light the day
It's morning's work is done

Slowly , slowly the sun dips down
Heralding  the end of another day
Gently stroking all life to sleep
Beckoning the soft, dark, velvet night
The Willow Dec 2015
When I was a kid
I had this idea that
if I loved
an animal, any animal,
with all my heart,
it would sense that I meant no harm and it would
love me back.
I thought this because I believed
Even an animal
could not hurt something
That loved it so much
And wouldn't do
To harm it.
Ray Dunn Sep 2019
color dripping from the clouds,
dousing the crystal oceans
with waves like prisms.

tides drawing in hues—
playing warm shades like a symphony
and cold in leveled harmony,

but as we watch the greys fall
from the sky like ashes,
we weep in tones of silver and gold.
i adore color imagery ****
Arcassin B Jan 2015
By Arcassin , Lexi , Tara and rach

:::AB:::: Conversations with out any words,
:::AW::: Creates a blissful peace between two souls,
::::RH:::: A bond without voices to cause constraints,
:::TO::: Listening closely, Without any of they're ears.,
:::AB:::: Rivers never get too mellow or narrow,
:::AW::: More narrow then the thoughts that cause simple minds,
:::RH:::: Simple minds that quake in the presence of such a holy river,
;:::TO::: colliding together  only be ruined by the waves of salt,
::::AB:::: And as I realize , and look inside that my soul burns for a higher judgment,
:::AW:::: A Judgement that quickens ones heartbeat,
::::RH::: Pumping my blood, reiterating judgement awaits once this fragile body tires,
:::TO:::  So far apart yet so close, never finding the key too his heartbeat.
:::AB::: While I'm waiting til she finds it, I'm still fading and bleeding,
:::AW::: The key awaits in the depths of the river,  cleansed of all unholiness.
Me and my team ❤❤
Salooma Osman Aug 2011
Break the silence with your chirping, deep in the trees
“Sway dear old tree the winds have blown”, she said
It’s not a simple pleasure in my head
It’s way beyond basic physiology or probably even possibly
Thee only prize I seek,
My very own lottery,
A blessing wrapped in skin,
My own portrait of a perfect skyline painted on YOUR skin,
Peaceful waters in your eyes I make sure they never storm,
Even the clouds in your hair, puffy in the morning,
I love to see them form…
So I’m up late night stargazing at your sky,
Shining stars over shredded skies,
So tender, I stay captivated by your everlasting beauty,
I remain amazed, as you start setting off beyond the horizon,
And as the sun started rising I could still feel your touch wondering around my atmosphere,
The sun was casting golden prisms through an early morning haze, showing the beauty that pierced through the morning light,
You where as beautiful as a thousand splendid golden prisms,
You were simply magnificent.
In my eyes no image could replace that of yours.
You are indeed a blessing.

— The End —