HERE WE GO AGAIN FOR ANOTHER POETRY ROUND UP

The Stream

I’d reached the life stream pick up point, the pineal transfer register was high and the light would soon open to astral flight through the ether, it could begin was there life after death.? I would soon discover the next life would lead to another planet I was overjoyed that I didn’t have to start from birth I was re-born in another life stream halfway and so happy with that was I .

The Stream in the Manner of The Bard

I’d hath reached the life stream picketh up pointeth, the pineal transf’r regist’r wast high and the lighteth wouldst anon ope to astral flight through the eth’r, t couldst beginneth wast th’re life aft’r death. ? i wouldst anon discov’r the next life wouldst leadeth to anoth’r planet i wast ov’rjoy’d yond i didn’t has’t to starteth from birth i wast re-b’rn in anoth’r life stream halfway and so joyous with yond wast i…

Angels In Clouds

Are angels in the clouds I have thought about these possibilities every day God has given me the gift of life I look up more and more the clouds are busy their forms more varied and possibly spiritual in nature we have the science behind them but should we forever believe this as I continue walking with my eyes to the above . Occasionally I believe I have witnessed something new shapes in between heavens formations is this by any chance heaven I think the angels are up there they are so busy now just waiting for the moment you will soon feel their love and energy pray may it be upon you in the now and today I go.

The Soldiers Of Your Souls.

The keepsake soldiers of your souls the miniature models carried perfect in the pockets by you and I all your relatives what a collection the good the bad and the indifferent who will I carry today to remind me of yesterday and that of do long ago you will be kept safe in the sanctuary of the harbour of souls from where spirits will roam freely forever.

The Soldiers of…In The Manner of the Bard

The keepsake soldi’rs of thy souls the miniature models hath carried p’rfect in the pockets by thee and i all thy relatives what a collection the valorous the lacking valor and the indiff’rent who is’t shall i carryeth the present day to remindeth me of yest’rday and yond of doth longeth ago thee shall beest hath kept safe in the sanctuary of the harbour of souls from wh’re spirits shall roam freely f’rev’r

A Little Box

There’s a little more than just death, oh yes a little model of you and me. Buy before we are forgotten, hand them down in a little box or keep them in your pocket. It’s not grim for we are so small as not to bother anyone, a keepsake of sorts if you like they can be used as key fobs let your lover in with your model husband, dangling on a chain. Coming soon to every shop a new way to remember so don’t forget little me or little you. A most convenient way to remember all done in the handiness of scale.

FROM PROTESTS TO TRAVEL OuR POETIC WARRIOR IS ON A ROLL…

Warrior of Poetry sends his love and prayers to India  and also prays that in all densely populated areas the future will utilise land and buildings so people don’t have to be controlled in unsafe overcrowded towns and cities, all my prayers and love to India. Warrior of Poetry. 

The Recognition of Flight

The recognition flight, I circled around my world one last time, from the ground through the corridor of time and up, as the passage revealed itself, like a rocket I ascended to another time my heart broken but soon to mend. The velocity gave me no time to think which was good as it stopped all sadness’s within. I cut out certain times as I knew now which portions were now irrelevant too me, for I know now I was part of something greater than I knew before.

Demonstrations

Demonstrations they must end in coming years, there must be a better way they are all now synonymous with trouble that never ends, demonstrators are making fools of themselves believe me . The system of gathering one hundred thousand signatures for enabling debate in parliament must be improved as of the moment a proposed bad law can be stopped , writing to your MP with complaint is a toothless tiger. They take no notice, it is far too polite and not effective .So in conclusion the eliciting of the 100.00 signatures for debates in parliament must be more serious and effective at bringing change to bad and harmful policies, that blight this small island to demonstrate most of which are harmful can be put to an end.

The Chainsaw

After the chainsaw had gone the Forest floor lay desolate and bereft of life, solemn stumps remained unsafe. Ugly was the scene and what life was left tried to regrow, in the centres and circumference of the stumps. Some made it, others not succumbing to overpowering fungus. Giving strong aroma of decay and church innards. But promise, not far away and after many visits a tiny army of xylems at play covered this forest floor, strength in numbers be of no doubt oh forest beats us humans, but species colonisation had begun the little xylem army of processes would soon be growing and then the forest would cry, “I am Legion.”

Time Codes

Time codes they will be needed, very soon. We have been told to leave, something is coming but we know not yet of what it is, or what will become of us. It had to happen, we could not go on overdeveloped now, the experiment is at an end. If you have feelings then you know it is sad, as there are also many good ones. Humans I mean, but the time codes say we are in line. I don’t have one, so my fate is yet unknown so I’d better breath for this day and treasure it, before twenty one craft arrive formally hidden behind that giant cloud over there.

A Weight Was Lifted

A weight was lifted from my world, as clouds came down and touched the very ground I stood upon. Often I had wondered within life’s troubles and distortions. If I could reside in a final care free space and look high upon a bright cloud, filled my day had become more than just that science had said this was only made by the sun, upon moisture, but shapes told me otherwise far too many and some you could live in. Imagination carried us thus far but I was taken up and proven otherwise ,I had left earth behind as I was taken up, weightless but sure. Now in the knowledge that I had found another world and this was a new reality, forever for me such a weight had truly been lifted, I was now free .

And in the words of the Bard.

A weight wast did lift from mine own w’rld, as clouds cameth down and did touch the v’ry did grind i stoodeth upon. Oft i hadst wond’r’d within life’s troubles and dist’rtions. If ‘t be true i couldst reside in a final careth free space and behold high upon a bright cloud, did fill mine own day hadst becometh m’re than just yond science hadst hath said this wast only madeth by the travelling lamp, upon moisture, but shapes toldeth me oth’rwise far too many and some thee couldst liveth in. Imagination hath carried us thus far but i wast taken up and proven oth’rwise ,i hadst hath left earth behind as i wast taken up, weightless but sure. Anon in the knowledge yond i hadst hath found anoth’r w’rld and this wast a new reality, f’rev’r f’r me such a weight hadst truly been did lift, i wast anon free.

I Am A Wilted Flower

I am a wilted flower of that I can claim, I pulse out the idea the previous day, let it me flow in early morning. Quiet time in silence, the rest of it needs to end. Old people who won’t let go of the pile plays on my mind, I’ll have a human size rabbit warren kitted out with solar panels high in the trees, hang on what about a treehouse. Your caravan make sure it is big enough for I will take up residence in it mwah, mwah.

And for the hell of it in Shakespearean, bring on the Bard…

I am a wilt’d floweth’r of yond i can claimeth, i pulse out the idea the previous day, alloweth t floweth in early m’rning. Quiet timeth in silence, the rest of t needeth to endeth. Fusty people who is’t wonneth’t alloweth wend of the pile plays on mine own mind, i’ll has’t a human size rabbit warren kitt’d out with solar panels high in the trees, hangeth on what about a tree house. Thy caravan maketh sure t is big enow f’r i shall taketh up residence in t mwah, mwah

The Fog

The fog in the room, spirits collecting I thought my eyes were foggy then I realised what I had seen the gathering the final time, in early morning not aware of my presence they just gathered in density, intensity and with no conscience whatsoever. They pick their time obviously. I was no offence to them so they carried on with whatever they had to achieve, then a few blinks and later in the day they were gone. Were they not good to hang around I guess not and so onwards with the day.

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