Mystic Journey: Earth 1
the moon is an immortal soul which breathes life
into the earth, and life, in its ebb and flow
waxes and wanes with breaths of seasons. to know
the moon's mind is to understand life on earth.
into the first full moon of the auspicious
Year of the Rooster you disappeared, into the
living dead of unconscious winter. the relentless
snow stretched like skin over lakes and fields
buried cold, bony ground in bright veil of ice.
ice was everywhere. the arteries of rivers
clotted, frozen air stuck in silver trees. sap
stored below ground, nature cocooned coma,
the lifeless world was timeless too the day they
packed thorsby* church. pale clouds crowded
like heavy canvas sack the bloodless sky,
dull gray sunlight drained from blank pupil.
all but a few black winter birds were fled.
a sun-streaked cat kept lip of the parish door.
friends flocked before your flowered casket.
a frocked minister stood behind the pulpit
intoning; all great feeling is grave. feelings
were expressed, and suppressed. families
gathered, then scattered. you, felled wood
robbed of root, dried grain bled of blood,
mirrored blood lines back. in death you
resembled your father; he, no doubt, his.
before you were born, you were: after your
death, you are. you became your ancestors.
*thorsby, alberta, canada
poem by Doug Bentley
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Four Seasons
First snowfall this morning.
Ground covered in white.
Flowers have died.
Birds are in flight.
End cycle of life
Death turns into birth
Old becomes new
Renewing our earth
Seasons, like Jesus
Restoring the dead
The blood of the Lamb
And breaking of bread
My seasons, have changed.
I've lost my old ways
Pure white I now sit
From the One whom I praise
I Fall to my knees.
In winter I died.
In spring, I'm reborn.
Summer; alive.
He waits til our fall,
And then helps us rise.
His death for us all,
We see through His eyes.
He is my four seasons.
His will is my goal.
After my death,
He breathes life in my soul
poem by Ryan Lee Morris
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Never
I wake. Yes, it's a coffin lid.-With effort
I reach my hands out and I call
For help. Yes, I recall the tortures
Of dying.-Yes, this is no dream!-
And without effort, like a spider web
I push aside my casket's rotting wood
And stand. How bright the winter light appears
In the crypt's doorway! Can I doubt it?-
I see the snow. The crypt's without a door.
It's time to head for home. How stunned they'll be!
I know this park, I cannot lose my way.
But oh how different it looks now!
I hurry. Snowdrifts. Frigid boughs
Of dead trees poke deep into the sky,
There are no tracks or sounds. It's still.
The realm of death in an enchanted world.
And here's my home. But what decay!
I'm shocked by this heartbreaking sight.
The village sleeps beneath a snowy blanket,
There is no path in all the boundless steppe.
Yes, there it is: upon a far-off hill
I see the ancient belfry of the church.
A frozen traveler in the whirling snow,
It stands out clear against the cloudless span.
No winter birds or midges dot the snow.
I understand: the earth has long lain chill
And dead. For whom do I conserve
The breath within my chest? To whom did death
Return me? What's my mind
Connected to? And what's its final purpose?
Where shall I go if there is no one to embrace?
And time has lost itself in space?
O, Death, return! And hasten to assume
The fatal burden of this final life.
And you, stiff corpse of earth take flight
And bear my corpse on the eternal path!
poem by Afanasy Afanasyevich Fet
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Human Existence On Earth
How do you define human existence on earth?
Some say our life on earth is like a journey
The journey begins from the day we are born
And terminates the day we die
Others say that our life is a school
We start learning from the day we are born
Everyday of our life on earth
There is always something new to learn
The schooling ends the day we die
Few compare our life on earth to the sun
Our sunrise is the day we are born
While our sun sets on the day we die
Our life can also be likened to a flower
The flower is planted the day we are born
As we grow up, our flower germinates
When we reach middle-age
Our flower blooms and sparkles
After we retire, our flower fades away
Life of humans can also be equated to the four seasons
The spring covers birth to adolescent years
Summer of our life begins from adolescent to middle-age
While fall season starts from middle-age to retirement
The winter of our life will be from retirement to death
Another analogy is to liken human existence on earth
To the waxing and waning of the moon
From our birth to the time we retire from active service
Can be compared to waxing of the new moon to full moon
While our life from retirement to our death
Can be associated with the waning of full moon to new moon
Whatever may be your own analysis of life?
Always live everyday to the fullest
poem by Julius Babarinsa
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Sonnet: Our Life On Earth
The Moon is shining less brightly than 'fore,
And seems to fade behind thick clouds that sail;
Its dim outline too fades with time much more;
The ghost-like Moon appearing truly pale!
But not for long, the Moon is back whole-size;
The clouds that blocked its view have gone away;
The Moon is shining once again- so nice!
The night now looks as if it has turned day.
Our life on earth is like the Moon and Sun;
Its joys and sorrows wax and wane till death;
Sometimes, our life is full of vigour, fun,
To some like stars remain until last breath.
This is the way things happen on earth Man,
And changing them altogether, none can.
poem by John Celes
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I live with the moon
I live with the moon and die with the sun. I am the creatures
that creep the night. I step out into the sun and die. The moon
rises and i am alive. This is the way of my life.
I live with the moon and die with the sun. I am the one thing
that you should fear. I fall and crash to the ground. This is the
way of my life.
I live with the moon and die with sun. What is this feeling inside?
It is for you, that I know. Why oh why is this the way of my life?
I live with the moon and die with the sun. I sigh as I die. I breathe
as I am alive again. This is the way of my life.
I live with the moon and die with the sun. You are my moon and I am
yours. We rise together and die together. This is the way of our life.
I live with the moon and die with the sun. You shall die with a burning
vengeance thats cold as ice. This is the way of my life.
I live with the moon and die with the sun. I am immortal but, how can I die? Forever and ever this will be the way of my life.
poem by Crystal Michalski
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Father Winter
Welcome back home Father Winter
we have waited all year for you.
Your lovely trees, so tall
their branches now bare
they stand there waving you
back home you brought with you
your winter jewels, now they hang
on those naked branches.
The summer flowers, have
now laid down for a long winters
nap their waiting for you to cover
them with your winter blanket.
Your blanket will keep them
warm till spring then they'll
all pop up and sing.
Now all the small animals have
laid their heads down too sweet
dreams every thing will awake to
fresh new season.
You have dressed everything for
Christmas. your ice snow flakes
have landed on our pond it looks
looks like big white frosted glass
mirror it also created beautiful
glass like ornaments that
hang on the ever green trees.
Your cold fluffy snow lays upon
their branches it drapes like a
pearl necklace among their branches
they all look so lovely.
The winter clouds that you have blown
in float beneath the stars so bright
the full moon shines down upon the
hill tops all covered in your beauty.
The fresh snow glistens like stars
and silver gliter it looks like
millions of diamondseen have been
scattered on the beaten paths.
Your winter air smell so crisp
and cold as you speak, you can
see your breath in \the cold air
the only lights are from the new
full winter moon.
As you can see Father Winter has
blown, in with such briskness.
Every where you now look,
now looks bright and fresh.
Little children have started the
count down.To that special
night which is not to far off in sight.
And like ''SANTA'
You'll be gone, in the wink
of an eye.
We thank you for all the beauty
that you have given us, you'll
only last a while upon you I'll
walk a brisk mile.
We'll love you as long as you'll
last..Upon your snow we'll
dance and play.
We'll do this each cold day..
Until you melt away.
and then we'll say a sad good-bye.,
GAYLE ANNE GOFF
DECEMBER
2008
poem by Gayle Anne Goff
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Oriental selection
Bare winter branches
beneath the moon wreathed in mist.
Seem to bloom again.
Echoes of memories foresee
future in the past.
In the soft moonlight
blossoms from the cherry tree
Scattered on the ground.
purpose served, hey leave the stage
Autumn will grant them honour.
Sharp edged shadows cast
by the brilliant winter moon
on the earth below.
Poetry written on the snow
only lovers understand
The wind stirs the reeds
making music by moonlight.
Plaintive melodies
the wind needs no audience.
the moon listens silently.
The moon my lantern
the scent of blossom lingers
The moon lights my way
I walk beside the water
yesterday is gone.
Sun sets, moon rises
constant repetition
She follows her lord
Night without moonlight
restless spirits walk abroad
seeking solace.
Moonlight soothes my soul
as I meditate alone.
Trees whisper to me.
A pond holds the moon
why should the mind of man do less
achieving stillness
Gently moonlight falls
like silver rain silently
lotus blossom sing.
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Mother Nature She Rules
For her actions Mother Nature is above any blame
Since she always treats life and death as the same
The dead of the World in her bosom lay
And she goes on living and night follows day.
Mother Nature she dons her green cloak of the Spring
And in her leafy woods nesting birds chirp and sing
The life that she gives one day she will receive
And for her dead children she never does grieve.
For to sustain us on Nature we must depend
Yet Nature is one who does not need a friend
She will live without us when the life from us gone
Forever and ever she keeps keeping on.
Her Seasons they come and her Seasons they go
And her streams and her rivers to her oceans flow
And from the Earth's most northern to the most southern shore
Mother Nature she rules and will forever more.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Moon After Day
Moon shed a tear
Moon give me fear
Moon light my way
Moon after day
Moon give me strength
Moon has no length
What I want to say,
Is Moon after day
Moon is full
Moon is dull
Moon light my way
Moon after day
Moon is my life
Moon gave me a knife
Moon slit my wrist
Moon a wonderful bliss
What I want to say
Moon after day!
The Color of the Moon
The color of the moon
so pale and so blue
makes me wanna cry
when I look at the moon
In black or white
dark or light
the moon cries
with all its might
With the moon cries
life dies
and the earth
breathes a heavy sigh
The color of the moon
so pale and so blue
makes me wanna cry
when I see the color of the moon
poem by Jasmine Thompson
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The Young People Are Back Again
The weather cold and frosty and the fields are looking gray
But the young people are back again from places far away
From Countries such as Britain, Canada, Australia and the U S A
For to be with their families on their Christmas holidays.
In pubs around Duhallow they will drink dark stout and beer
And talk about the good times and farewell the old year
And toast the year 2004 and sing For Auld Lang Syne
And to Jack a pint of Guinness and to Joan a glass of wine.
To Millstreet and Newmarket, Kanturk and Boherbue
And Meelin and Rockchapel and Cullen and Knocknagree
They have returned for Christmas to their old stomping ground
When snow is on the mountains and the redwings are around.
To Ballydesmond and Dromtarriffe, Kilcorney and Banteer
They have returned from places far to welcome the new year
And to spend Christmas with their families and old friendships to renew
And the best of friends still old friends so happen to be true.
The fields around the old Hometown are looking gray and bare
And the weather cold and frosty and Winter in the air
But the young people are back again from places far away
For to be with their families on Christmas and New year's Day.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Watching The River Flow
While Sun shines bright
And the Moon is full aglow
That is the time
To sit and watch the river flow.
For that is the time
To write poems in the sand
And also in the mind
To hold a Lady's hand.
Heaven is above us
And Earth is still below
And not a better place to be
But to sit and feel the flow.
Fishes now are swimming
As the birds they do fly
Up and down the river
To where the bullfrogs cry,
Stars are shining bright
And the Moon is all aglow
While sitting beneath the moonlight
Listening to the river flow.
The shivers are going out
For the rivers flowing in
Up and down my life and soul,
Only to begin once again.
Heaven is above us
And the Earth is still below
How I love to sit and wish
And hear the river as it flow.
Randy L. McClave
poem by Randy McClave
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A Big Golden Moon!
2010 Moon is revolving round the Earth bright in closer orbit
Making Solar eclipse look like ring fire and not diamond ring!
Often golden Moon rise lasts longer before it becomes silver
In the evenings bigger in size than usual on Full Moon days!
Big golden Moon shines bright yellow long in the winter
With the Sky clear having no clouds indicating last phase;
But heavy chill wind blows cold making all shiver despite
They walk brisk sans slackening the pace a little to the end!
Becoming Sun like silver light, Moon attains brilliant beauty
Changing Sea into Milky Way of Universe similar to Vaikunda,
The abode of Lord Vishnu, God of protection of the good people
And His consort Goddess Lakshmi giver of wealth to mankind!
Big golden Moon becoming silver Moon inspires hope and joy
Confirming confidence to all to survive, sustain and succeed ever!
poem by Ramesh T A
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Winter Wonderland
There are strange and mysterious sounds
When the winds of winter blow,
The long nights are crystal clear and cold,
And the fields and meadows are covered with snow.
The stars are frosty against the sky,
And the wind's whistle is shrill,
As the snow blows against the house
And drifts against the hill.
Yet, I like to see during the winter
A white carpet on the ground,
To plod aimlessly in the deep snow,
where deer tracks abound.
I like to feel the stillness
Of a crisp winter's night,
Watching a full moon rise over the horizon,
Exposing a winter wonderland beautiful and bright.
poem by Joseph T. Renaldi
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Unexpected
Dim looked the stars then disappeared
Behind the clouds pale moon appeared.
Like a damsel after a shower,
Combed hair on face lower.
The clouds passed the sky cleared,
The stars and moon again appeared.
As fairy moving away her hair,
Her face appeared so clean and fair.
Things looked calm the night waning,
The clouds gathered anew the planning.
A shawl the sky wore again,
The bitter breeze again began.
On chest of earth fell flakes of snow,
No dawn joy, no life's flow.
The trees and roofs were clothed in white,
Thus harsh became a pleasant night.
poem by Jahan zaib
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The Winter Pendant
The Winter Pendant
Silver lining that shines in light,
(an attribute to her delight)
which rims a figure of the night,
this alluring Winter Pendant.
Forged with essence of the stars,
delivered by the war-god Mars.
It mirrors distant, dying pulsars,
this mysterious Winter Pendant.
Mars delivers this before,
the moon who, quite frankly, adores,
this change within the god of war,
by this elegant Winter Pendant.
But she is still only a mortal.
She can't traverse beyond the portal,
while he can since he is immortal.
So, she'll keep this Winter Pendant.
The flaw is that she'll eventually die.
Her corpse will rot and blood run dry.
This fact could make the war god cry,
but what of the Winter Pendant.
This item's more than just a charm.
It's magic will not bring her harm,
but may come to be alarmed,
for she'll be the Winter Pendant!
Her soul is sucked into the stone,
to travel with Ares back to his throne.
An act the moon did not condone!
His love was the Winter Pendant
Now a jewel forever more,
so says the mythological lore.
The priceless gem for the God of War,
the living Winter Pendant.
poem by Wesley Mincin
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Lines: The cold earth slept below
The cold earth slept below;
Above the cold sky shone;
And all around,
With a chilling sound,
From caves of ice and fields of snow
The breath of night like death did flow
Beneath the sinking moon.
The wintry hedge was black;
The green grass was not seen;
The birds did rest
On the bare thorn's breast,
Whose roots, beside the pathway track,
Had bound their folds o'er many a crack
Which the frost had made between.
Thine eyes glow'd in the glare
Of the moon's dying light;
As a fen-fire's beam
On a sluggish stream
Gleams dimly--so the moon shone there,
And it yellow'd the strings of thy tangled hair,
That shook in the wind of night.
The moon made thy lips pale, belov{`e}d;
The wind made thy bosom chill;
The night did shed
On thy dear head
Its frozen dew, and thou didst lie
Where the bitter breath of the naked sky
Might visit thee at will.
poem by Percy Bysshe Shelley
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The dark night of the soul
Not death - no poem's yet been writ
on that - but that dark door and passage
where everything, all that one knows of life
must be surrendered, in the service
of a brighter light, a brighter life...
Only those who apprehend the soul
in all her glory, must submit
when time calls time, and there descends
that total darkness of the mind
which wipes out any thought of things
created; any sense of former life;
any creature that might say
I’ve done my best, so take me, God…
no, there’s nothing left, when hope
is as it never were; or ever named;
truth no longer means a thing beyond
this total darkness, which could not be more true;
eternity, pure timeless state of nothingness,
nightmare without movement, frozen heart..
how can those with nothing to hold on to,
no hands to hold, no reason to hold on…
what can they do, but curl up in a ball
like nature’s creatures faced with stranger, death,
that never spoke its name to them?
One thing only, mercy then will grant:
you will survive… pale, humbled, weak,
wondering what is left, to try to build
a pale approximation to a life
which now, you have no taste for…
and in the coming days, as if
you tasted water for the first time in your life..
you sense a strange new cleanliness..
there’s some new life awaiting, there,
wherever ‘there’ is.. to be lived…
perhaps a new created world
may come of soul’s dark void..
Who can understand, prepare themselves for,
this strangest blessing from the gods?
But that’s the package: unpreparedness is all..
Imagine, now you’re high and dry,
gasping above the sandy waterline, a shivering wretch –
imagine all the glories of a summer’s day;
all the stirring of the blood in Spring;
all the miracles that burst from earth…
an equal miracle, it must be,
the miracle of winter, stealing from us, leaf by leaf,
all we never owned…
this winter’s tale, the heart must kneel and praise;
as marvel; wonder; see as holiest whole -
this timeless, darkest, hopelost, night of soul.
poem by Michael Shepherd
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What The Snow Man Said
The Moon’s a snowball. See the drifts
Of white that cross the sphere.
The Moon’s a snowball, melted down
A dozen times a year.
Yet rolled again in hot July
When all my days are done
And cool to greet the weary eye
After the scorching sun.
The moon’s a piece of winter fair
Renewed the year around,
Behold it, deathless and unstained,
Above the grimy ground!
It rolls on high so brave and white
Where the clear air-rivers flow,
Proclaiming Christmas all the time
And the glory of the snow!
poem by Vachel Lindsay
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Nature’s season
Sweet is the lore which nature brings,
In tidings and shapes of beautiful formed things,
In peaceful respite the tearful moments weep,
With uneasy tears and breezy thoughts sweep.
Time and seasons bring emotions sinking deep,
With reasons and secrets only time can keep.
Clouds aloft expose heavens grand panorama,
And buttery darkening stars gathered in sky arena,
Gaze upon bright shapes from infinite space,
Spellbound arms hold each other in sweet embrace.
And there in heaven, we look for grace to be forgiven,
Of things loosed from this world at the second coming.
Jealous angels fold their wings in amorous trance,
Watch the moon stood and stars around earth dance.
And change the merry climate to give nature dominion,
Over rivers and land where ancient mariners have gone,
We glimpse for a visible moment the rage chosen,
By the force of nature to linger with humanity in the wind,
Coastal plains in gay high day’s pleasures were found.
Homes submerged in the ground, till the ground breaks down,
Further into the realm of terrestrial phenomenon.
Time let seasons come again with birds singing in spring,
June showers descended with the rush for summer to begin,
Surprise rain comes between night and the appearing sun,
When stars in haste go hiding behind the moon.
And waters of golden grain flung heavy showers down,
Earth is covered with gloom above the grass that is green,
Floods overflowing rivers, lakes, streams and Ocean,
But nature is kind; and still more forgiving.
While Angel's sit and contemplate upon silk tassel rainbow,
Holding nervous fate near river lips widening below,
Beneficent sorrow grip the stranded heart in resolute
Mind, the stillness finds hope whispering like a warbling flute,
Triumphant now in life as in death, persistent as fear,
And the fear in the shadows hung over towns in terror,
Leaving the trail of wreckage the atmosphere conspire,
Flash into darkness and vanish with our hopes and dreams,
Into reliable memories borne from fire and ashes,
Remaining hopes are those of burnt out embers.
We wash our minds and analyze the search for answers,
Waters from the mountains mingle with dark weedy rivers,
And rivers; and lakes, eventually surrender their powers,
Then love too; will flee from spellbound arms in speed,
And find eclipse of nature roaming silently through sleep.
poem by Gerry Legister
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