Last Commented Abstract Poems (471)

shades into shades she weeps
tears which the darkness keeps
til through longest night we sweep
awakening bones of the earth from sleep

THE POEM AND THE SYMPHONY

Time gleans "the sound" from you..
from a distant age gone by.

Body, Neck and Bridge...
Strings, Frets and Keys,
aggregates of this guitarra...

A matrix of wood and bone,
constructs of this Soul.

Embodied in the ink of his pen...
the writer personified -
encrypted in the words,
his art...his life -
each word and rambling
phrase, an incarnation
of the Nous.....truly, an unfettered reflection.

So too, the musician speaks through the sound
of each note...
each note, each phrase,
as if a paragragh...
reflecting sentience and imagination.

Together - they complete the poem
and the symphony...

Separate - they are two strangers
born of a common Mother.

The resonant embrace pierces the
Heart - fingers dancing into a firestorm ....
dissonance long removed, they chase away the distance -
forgetting that some are far removed from this joyful mood.


Mirroring one another, the two strangers renew their bond,
reflecting familiar and a courteous tones, in writ and song -
as thoughts surely become sound,
and all the while, are so evenly pronounced...
plucked strings reverberate through the darkness,
minor and major scales collide...
awakening the dead to life,


....to the poem within the symphony.
................

Greg Sexton

"A Voice from across the River"

I wonder if it is like this for you...
Watching the shoreline....
laughing at the dance of the the crow.....
the beauty of the trees ...
Hearing the intricate rhythms of the crickets,
...the cicadas ....
...and how they must give us a hint of joy...
Even amidst the most somber of days.

I wonder if you could love the depth of this writer, and laugh at the antics of the thieving alley cat....

From the reflection in your eyes,
I see you've always been strong,
your soul guides you ,
even when your highs...
were so very low.

The salty mist from these shores have soaked my skin..
watching the moon,
and listening for your voice .....

Touching your hand I've yet to touch... a gift of grace from the gusts of coastal winds.

It is here that I sense your presence,
I hear your whispers..
Your laughter...
your footsteps.

In the evening moonlight ...i sense your candor, It is your Light...only borrowed by the Moon.

It's the "real" that we love.
The insatiable desire to know it...
to taste it ...
to be it...

Loves finds us all ...
at Her own pace...
Not ours.

Just as a soul must find its own voice,
It's own reflection,
revealed in word,
In deed,
In glance...
With each and every thought.

It's the "real" that we love.
The insatiable desire to know it...
to drink of it...
to be it.

Perhaps one could tally it as an obsession, But I know Love only as a living prayer.

.......a living moment suspended in time...
every bit as real as it ever was...
Both ancient and new.

This is the voice I hear.... from across the river.

This is the Voice I Hear.

GM Sexton --------------------

Marble eye of granite stone
Engrained features
Vains in stone
She
Stands aloft
On pyramides high
Gazes down
On commers low
Deathly gaze
Set in stone
For once
Was a block of stone
Now carve
A body for all to see
Imortalized
Now set in stone

OUR REFLECTION

A boy and his father are walking in the mountains,
suddenly the son falls, hurts himself and screams: 'AAAhhhhhhhhhh!!!'
To his surprise, he hears a voice repeating, somewhere on the mountain: 'AAAhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!'
Curious, he yells: 'Who are you?'
The voice again: 'Who are you?'
Angered at the response, he screams: Coward!'
He receive the answer: 'Coward!'
He looks to his father and asks: 'What is going on?'
The father smiles and says: 'my son, pay attention.'
And then the father screams to the mountain: 'I admire you!'
The voice answers: 'I admire you!'
Again the man screams: 'You are a champion!'
The voice retorts: 'You are a champion!'

The boy was surprised but doesn't understand.

Then the father explains: 'People call this Echo, but really, this is Life.'
It gives you back everything you say or do.
Our life is simply a reflection of our actions.
Life will give you back everything you have given to it.

Our best friends and our worst enemies are the thought we have about ourselves.
Self-image sets the boundaries and limitations for each of our individual accomplishment.
My friend, Zag Ziglar observes,....'What you picture in your mind, your mind will go to work to accomplish.
When you change your picture, you automatically change your performance.'

So, Whatever we attach consistently to the word 'I am,' you will become.

A delicate balance held under
one cool breeze warmed by the sun

Frailty in love fragrantly echoes
deeply carried on birds song

Peace and serenity holds the air
on a vapor trailing thought

Looking around at heather blossoms
withering caught in a web

Silent blowing warm brushing whispers
rustling through the trees golden

Baby blue dressed with mother of pearl
clouds scatter the sky sparsely

Star of the sea beautiful vessel
sails upon salted remains

Your music plays the sweetest strings tug
swims to the heart in each beat

I know that you barely noticed,

Strange sadness in my eyes that day,

It was almost like you never saw it,

And it looked like abyss with no end,


My grey eyes reminded you the surface of water,

You felt like looking into deep well,

I am the water and i am solitude down there,

It is where i drown in my own sorrow,


That is what you saw inside this well,

That is actually a little piece of Hell,

I'll show you the invisible dimensions of perception,

It's my soul that shines down there,


It lies buried in this beautiful grave,

That used to be place for hopes and dreams,

Come down and shine together with me,

In this flame so vibrant and pure,


This is how i used to melt our souls together,

And when i look above - i still can see the light,

So pure like my eyes used to be,

In the times when you still loved me.

Yesterday when I was sleeping
I had an incredible kind of dream,
we were there, dressed in white
it looked a garden of spirits....
you were so pretty, around of flowers field
the sky was blue and the clouds looked cotton fields
This was my dream I know we were in a garden of spirits
Yesterday I cant forget, the trees were so green
and there was not dead leaves
Oh god I felt me in the heaven, I would like that could be this way
I believe on these sort of thing, I know we were in a
garden of spirits.....
We were in a garden on spirits, in a garden of spirits.

Love is so simple, but also so complex to define!
For it goes ahead and the person comes after!
Oh dear! Isn't that really complex to understand?
Oh yes, make it simple one would say, but not listen!

Here's to the person who sits and tries to understand
Love is so giving and not expecting, love is caring
Love always puts the other persons expectation before one's own!
It's not selfish, nor conceited, love is not being vulgar
Not being raspy, arrogant or haughty in expression
But tender and watchful and complacent, sympathetic and
Empathetic and mending the faults, rather than highlighting and
Stressing the shortfalls, or shortcomings of a person!

It's basically being humble in your relationship with the other
When the world seems like heaven 'cos you're in love
Love with everything and anything around and
Peace reigns within your soul to love!

Oh how it feels to share a thought
Of how it means to feel for another
But alas would the words have a meaning?
If the other would not understand the goodwill!

Oh how people try to misuse or analyse
And some would cover-up with ignorance
But some would accept and then abuse?
The words of compassion and goodwill!

Oh how the world is full of abusers
Who would just rape or abuse with their attitude
But also the words they use, and do not use
Is it the right of one to another to be mistaken!

Oh how nice it would feel to share a thought
Of how the world feels to one another
And how nice, if one would actually not be
Mistakenly mistaken to express it, so true!