
“Angel Encounter” by Joanne Kraft
never doubt angels
live among us poor sinners
behold a child’s eyes
(originally posted March 2013)
“Angel Encounter” by Joanne Kraft
never doubt angels
live among us poor sinners
behold a child’s eyes
(originally posted March 2013)
“Fall of Lucifer” by Aad Nicolaas
choose your angel
black wing or white
a life willfully led
to profane or
exalted experience
notions Aquinas
and Augustine
struggled to bridge
the dichotomy
marked by the
mutual rejection
of pure possibility
and destined necessity
even the ancient
academy wrestled
with postulates
plotted by the mind
of the Stagirite*
formal and material
of internal cause
or efficient and final
of external cause
giving every philosopher
down through millennia
choice of a shelter
from perpetual
rainstorms of
human behavior
believe it or not
be you deist or atheist
angels exist who will
force and compel
or assist and suggest
your own choice
of a personal journey
the choice being
ever and always
a matter of faith
*(the Stagirite was Aristotle)
“Shadows 1” by Herbert Baglione
infirmity stalks
well concealed by man’s shadow
dark angel with gifts
knives drawn across bones gaining
entry to pierce the soft heart
************************
“…we rejoice in our sufferings because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope.” – St Paul
From my books Onionskin and Riverthink
red mist arising
a welling of blood
floods the eyes
steals the soul
a displacement
creating a chasm
a secular cavity
cast in a crimson
irradiance hot
with impulsive
destruction a
burning of angels
consumed by the
fiery cleansing
intended to
finally immolate
demons and fiends
oh the madness
of mind in its fit
of great outrage
emotional sabotage
subverting man’s
moral compunction
you can’t take my breath
I still need it
to feed my small acres
this forest of mine
this spectacular
lush carbon sink
is dependent on me
and sustains me in kind
we’ve grown used to
this private exchange
to this chemical coitus
of intimate ethers
when one of us dies
the other will follow
and even though none
who remain may be
moved into mourning
this good little piece
of the natural world will
perchance be diminished
so stand yourself down
bring a halt to your
homicide practice of
thievery leave me alone
and move on to some
other poor soul whose
life counts for less than
my million green leaves
I am horizon
celestial seam
where convene
men and angels
in purpose
more noble
than flesh
more human
than holy
I am horizon
a meeting place
realms of creation
convergent
enabling exchange
of learned wisdom
in mutual aid
of abiding
respect
I am horizon
edged joinery
piecing the land
sea and sky
treelines drawn
from the hemlines
of heaven the end
and beginning
of everything
floating outside and above oneself
watching each movement and motive
a doppelgang presence untethered
objective yet intimate inside-out
shadows of mind melt in sunlight
revealing the shape of each internal
conflict each unconscious choice
love or hate fight or flight to belong
or be gone to believe or deny to
embrace or rebuff trust or doubt
easy questions with difficult answers
here the hovering self draws a bead
from these rarefied clarified heights
maps the mindless mechanics the
arcane emotional math of ambivalent
passions this out-of-self self takes
its airborne perspective informing
identity free from terrestrial taints
not a trace of pedestrian odors
survive in these clean breezy precincts
aeolian free yet invested in how
the man walking below makes his way
through the muck and the mire of life
this affinitve being this airy reflection
man’s own metaphysical touchstone
his de facto ethereal archetype angel
devil or angel
each voice in my ear
how to judge
unaccustomed advice
both messengers
carry a deity’s
answer to prayer
one has virtue
the other pretends
one is blessed
the other condemned
fingers crossed
have no power
the coin toss
no true guarantee
all I know to be
mortally certain
is I must take
action immediately
in the now of the end
I’ve no choice but
to follow my heart
as I’ve done
through my life
with no voice in my ear
save the human ones
memories spoken
by actions of those
whom I’ve loved
I am of substance
not always of means
but oaken of heart
sturdy spirit aged
long in the barrel
that clock hands
well coopered with
air breathing staves
exuding vanillin and
darkening tannins to
steepen my erstwhile
flavors of character
gifts of the heartwood
expecting exchange
for ingredient pieces
of whom I have been
long ago I conceded
this sharing with
angels a pact to
evaporate tinges
of me each occasion
a moment of slight
transformation that
nourishes them and
improves my deep
distillate essence
my virtual manhood
from its inchoate
palate of virtues
toward the fortified
vigorous taste of
an ethical vintage
Writer Lynne Sargent
Poetry Puttering by Pax & Company
Sometimes everything has to be enscribed across the heavens so you can find the one line already written inside you. Sometimes it takes a great sky to find that small, bright, and indescribable wedge of freedom in your own heart. David Whyte
"drink from the well of your self and begin again" ~charles bukowski
no dust here
Copywriting, Editing, Publishing & Content Development Services * PHONE / TEXT (236) 881-3185
Looking ahead, without looking back (too often)
flights of fancy from New Zealand
You're never alone, if you've something to share
All you touch and all you see / is all your life will ever be
VICEDOMINI OF THE WUP New Name, New Location! Welcome to our poetry corner, The Poets’ Corner NEW SITE! The name has been changed to (our) because it belongs to all of us who post! Sincerely hope you find the change easy and exciting to be here! Please feel free to post and comment your thoughts so we all can enjoy!
Poetry Blog © Copyright 2010 - 2023, Katerina Michouli. All rights reserved.
I am where the valleys are deep, the mountains are high, and the wind moans through trees...