. Poetry from The Great In-Between

Sunday, November 27, 2022

Rules of Living. Number 10.



Sometimes in this life 


(5)


Fake smiling is all you got 


(7)


When tragedy strikes 


(5)


(C)

Copyright John Duffy 


A senryu must be exactly 3 lines.


Like a Haiku, a senryu must follow the 5-7-5 format:


The first line must have 5 syllables.


The second line must have 7 syllables.


The third line must have 5 syllables.


A senryu focuses on humans and usually contains irony.


It usually focuses on human nature.


It is not written about nature or the seasons.

A senryu does not have to rhyme.


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Friday, November 25, 2022

Do you want some gold?

 


Press play before reading. Salute.



(A lone voice sings the Blues)



Ain't  

No gold 


In wishing 

Your life away


Sang the old man 

By the river 



Ain't no gold

If you're gonna play by rules 


Created by fools



Ain't no gold 

Forever 



If you love saying 

Whatever 



Ain't no gold 

And no hope 

To cope 



If you won't swim upriver 



No point in dancing 

If you won't go 

Chancing 



So what you gonna choose 

If you want gold 


And you've got nothing 

To lose


Are you so stuck in your ways 


That you never need to 

Pray 


Have you good intentions 


And dreams too big 

To mention



But right now 



Confession of the soul  

Follows you 



Everywhere you go 

Like stunning rainbow



But even though 

It probably won't show 



That rainbow could lead you 

To all the gold you'll ever need 



Happiness 



Not that yellow stuff  

Linked to greed 

And eternal madness 



So there 


Ain't  

No gold 


In wishing 

Your life away


Sang the old man 

By the river 



Ain't no gold

If you're gonna play by rules 


Created by fools



There ain't no gold 

Forever 



If you love saying 

Whatever 



Ain't no gold 

And no hope 

To cope 



If you won't swim upriver 



So there no point in dancing 

If you won't go 

A chancing 



So what you gonna choose 

If you want gold 


And you've got nothing 

To lose


Are you so stuck in your ways 


That you never need to 

Pray 


Have you good intentions 


And dreams too big 

To mention


But right now 


Confession of the soul  

Follows you 



Everywhere you go 

Like stunning rainbow



But even though 

It probably won't show 



That rainbow could lead you 

To all the gold you'll ever need 



Happiness 



Not that yellow stuff  

Linked to greed 


And eternal madness



(C)

Copyright John Duffy 


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Tuesday, November 22, 2022

Have you met Emotional Pain, yet?


(A lone voice whispers)


Some say 


In the eerie twilight of a broken heart 


That wild metaphysical thing called Emotional Pain 


Created by whatever you call your Gods 


Judgment
By name 


Is but a mesmerizing shapeshifter


Who suddenly appears like
An angel-winged curator


Simply to toy with your human nature 


As it constantly fluctuates between states 


And realms of
Love and Hate 


Until you acquiesce
Bow down and worship 


Whichever one you prefer 


At the touch and kiss
Of her brother called Fate 


For so long ago 


When Pure Love was young and innocent 


With the power to stir
Emotions 


Emotional Pain was breathed into life 


For once Love ends 


You may not remember in time

Who you used to date 


Or where you were


But you'll surely swim in a new ocean 


As you are forced 

To remember her



( C)
Copyright  John Duffy

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Monday, November 21, 2022

The Writers Monologue

 



(A lone voice whispers)



We and all

Our kin 



Are like the many unknown names 

Courageously written and weaved



Into

The Secret Books of History 



Many would never believe



Souls

Mysteriously walking upon wet shores 



Of a fourth planet 

Spinning in the deepest of space



Our devotion holding us

Knee deep in rivers of love or hate 



In the human race



As if we were nearly buried alive



And with newly empowered adrenalin-filled eyes 



We witness daily

The stunning emotional explosions worldwide  



And like worshippers of rediscovered Old Gods



We try to create a new written 



Golden Age of Byzantium in words



Filled with only fine art and poetic pieces 



We 

The word shapers who hide in the wild woods of our keeps



Where we sleep 

By firelight



Until the moon rises and kisses her lover 



Father Sky



Announcing us to wake 



To then slowly write on soft pages 



In our own

Books of Red Pleasure



Stories 



To be perused and used 

By soft fingertips 



And lonely hearts  

For their own inquisitions 



And at their leisure



We will write about seeing the true face of the world 



As the Wolf Moon rises



As we lie sated 



Upon the ever-flowing Sands of Fate 



We will record

For historical footprints 



In Digital ink



How the new forms of circumscription begin



We will create unique raw 

intuitive insights 



In the longest of nights 



Creating legacies

Which may ignite minds



To be then lit up 



Like Guy Fawkes on Bonfire night 



Heralding a new vision 



Of a twisted version of a place 



Corrupted by the father of temptation and the power of the pound or dollar 



To invoke sin



And as we look on 

As old empires fall



We will pray to the skies 

Like primitive tribes 



For we are but some of the mythical Narrators



Eternal Scribes

Who'll never grow old 



We 

Who create a millennium of hidden stories



In time 



Simply to hijack any inquisitive minds 



They can find



For 

We are just reborn endlessly as poets 


Writers and

Singer-songwriters today 



No longer

Residents of any known time frames 



That can seduce

And lead you into 



The Brown Fields of Disarray



But just souls sentenced again 



From The Purple Story Houses 



In The Great In-Between



To feed curious minds

Which are perpetually ravenous for shorties



Just like you 



To explore these few words 

With an overwhelming need  



To consume 



Short enchanting new glorious stories like these 


Written by firelight 

In my holy room 


Thanks for reading and until the next time. 


Remember, it's great to à deux!



Readers and writers 

Do it all the time


(C)

Copyright John Duffy 


Circumscription


In this context:

Restrict (something) within limits.


A Deux 


Adjective . : involving two people especially in private. A cozy evening à deux.


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Sunday, November 20, 2022

Dark wishes from an Old Soul


 
(A lone voice whispers)
 


Do you still miss me

Do you remember when we first kissed

Down by that raging blue sea
In Hornsea 


In front of whoever passed by 

While on the beach

Can you remember 
Sitting hidden in the shade 

Where the rising sun could never reach


Can you remember 

How your father screamed 
And preached 

When he realized who was the guy 
You were going to love and teach

I still miss you, my only love

Every hour 
Minute and second  

So I still just hope and pray 
You're quietly listening 

Wherever you are

For we've come too far to be 
Forever apart

The doc McLeish 

Says I don't have too long left

I said 

Thank God
My beloved 
Martha awaits

She's been waiting so dam long 
By Heaven's great gates 

That she'll be so happy  
To finally see me smile 

You'd have loved it 

It made us both laugh for a short while

Well 
I know you're here physically 

For 
I'm again at your grave 

But spiritually

You're somewhere so special 

Totally free and no longer one of life's many indentured slaves

I won't be too long

The doc says maybe seven days or even eight 

And I'll be coming your way

Get that kettle on

For I've so much to say

Until then keep flying high 

Where the lonely birds play and keep watching out for me

For each night
I just want to be back with you

On that beach 
Hiding in the shade 

Holding hands 
Like Romeo and Juliet

Watching the slow crash 
Of those blue cold waves

It's why I just kneel down 
In the darkness 

Just past midnight

To beseech 
Our Lord Almighty 

As I pray

See you soon my love 
I've just got to go 



As you know 
I've been here all-day

So I'm just going to leave some of these lovely red roses 

On my Ma's grave 

Before the cemetery closes 
Even though 

I'd love to stay

(C)
Copyright John Duffy 

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Saturday, November 19, 2022

The SpellBinder

Press play before reading. Salute.

(A lone voice whispers)


To the new muses reading these lines.... 


Can you feel me 

Somewhere

In there 


For within your mind 

I now walk


Can you can hear my sweet voice 

Echoing everywhere 


As I now talk


Can you feel me

Slowly creeping


Through those cautious

Unexplored sleeping 


Corridors of your deep mind


As I pause 

Invisible 

By your side 


And shamelessly 

Whisper 


This spellbinding rhyme


For 

You are now mine


So says 

These seals of King Solomon


You may try to pass it 

Away as a sensuous 


Strange wet dream


A leftover from

A recent trip to The Great In-Between 


You may convince yourself 

It's only your fertile 

Imagination


But believe me

It's real 


Like all-night ravens


And you will see and 

Embrace it in 

Time


For

You are mine now

So says 


These magical sigils 

Of King Solomon


And from the 

Black Grimoires


Stolen like

A common market thief


From the Devil's Keep


I invocate this spell


To appear in your dreams

As you sleep


So now 

You'll dream of me 

Forever 


Until we meet


For I've cast your name 

Into my black cauldron 


To make my portion of Gestalten 


And there's no one else

To blame 


As time runs


So 

Don't question yourself 


When you 

Unconsciously 


Start counting down 

The dogeared days  


And seemingly endless nights

Tossing and turning


Restless and filled 

With angst 


In so many unnatural ways




For

You are now mine

So says 


This magical gift

I own

Like King Solomon 






So be it 

Now repeat it


(C)

Copyright John Duffy 


The chant poem is about as old as poetry itself. 

In fact, it could be the first form poetry took.

Chant poems simply incorporate repetitive lines that form a sort of sensuous hypnotic rhythm

But be warned 

For there is a certain form of supernatural magic 

That manifests within their repetition

Let me know if you dream about me

Salute. 








Friday, November 18, 2022

Song of The Broken


Press play before reading. Salute.



(A lone voice sings)


 Sometimes

Life is so cruel 


And ain't no fun


And there is nothing more 

You could have done


But

If only 


I could have met you

When I was young


Carefree 

And always


On the run



You would be 

My only one


So I sing this song


In front of 

Everyone


When you wake 

Underneath


The midnight sun


Just know I care 

All said and done


And life's so cruel


Crushing love

Like a hit and run


Before anything 

Has begun



We could have had it all

We could have had it all


But

Sometimes


Life is so cruel 

Ain't no fun


And there is nothing more 

I could have done


If only 

I met you


While I was young


Carefree 

And always

On the run



You would now be 

My only one


And even now


As I look back 

On my life


In faded books


Underneath

This midnight sun


I know my end times

Has just begun


But Mon Cheri

Know this


After all these years

Together spiritually


You'll always still be 

My only one


It's just sometimes


True love 

Can be shot down


By Fates many 

Hidden guns




(C)

Copyright John Duffy 


Thursday, November 17, 2022

For the many unknown poets

 (A lone voice whispers)


If your brain hums and flutters


In tune 

With those rare vibrations 


Of that most extraordinary of all written things 


Called Poetry



Especially


In these days of soul-draining 


Social media 

And AI-driven 

Technology


You do realise


You've been given a spiritual passport 

To connect with



Visions

Emotional energy

And so many other frequencies


Only blessed people of any age 


Like thee

Can truly see


(C)

Copyright John Duffy


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Madame Poetry. The ghost who haunts me in the darkness.

 Press play as you read.

Salute.






It’s 4 am and the Ghost who haunts me called, Madam Poetry, has been.

Salute.

(A lone female voice whispers)


You

Yes you

The one I shall conjure into life
As my ancient heart burns

Like a magnificent volcano

You need no man-made laws
 
Remits or long-standing 
eulogies that bleed

Like Lilith’s old red rivers

To truly embrace me

For
You are all like the darkness 

Its worldly settlement 
When you choose to hate

It's dark visceral vicious 
Sludge

But when you emit love 

You are like soft
Echoes of reborn
Angels 

Made of blessed
Anointed gold

But Who are you all 
Individually 

To view and 
Demonise 

When you choose to 
Ignore compassion and instead 

Judge

For 
Some human emotions flow towards 
My huge imperial castles

Hidden in these mists

Floating above your life cycles mud

Built by my
Old master craftsmen 
Out of solid silver 

Before the Great Flood 

In the middle of my
Spiritual Sun

But for those 
Who gravitate still
Towards Hate

Their emotions flow 

To One of my fallen angels 
Dark Wormwood Star castles 

As with our ethereal 
Pact 

Of free will 

Such as all abide by 

Who are
Born into life

The freedom to 
Choose which path

Their existence runs

But
Do I not discover in you

Something so darn exquisite 

Within your 
Ever-watchful luminous 
Translucent eyes

Lost musings of 
Hidden strands

Of something 
Implored 

That all cling to
Like an old addiction 

They call euphoria

A subtle hint of something 
Mischievous 

Or 
Insidiously so glorious

A divine echo of a tantalising
Coveted 
Heaven

Or a seductive shadowy 
Towpath 

To Baiels destructive Hell

But
Within all the flowering 
Cosmos 

You shall never stand alone

For my words will
Carry me to you in the four 
Winds

Through undisclosed caves and 
Magnificent green trees

Fast-flowing brooks and carried aloft and whispered in secret
Underground streams

Beyond 
Old Villages and newly built 
Metropolitan cities

And wherever you’ll be

To hold you tightly just 
Once again 

Where I’ll stand still 
Just invisible 

Spirituality drunk and forever drowning 

Entwining and 
Overflowing with sweet 
Divine sympathy

Is it but an ephemeral 
Omnipresent God's never-ending deep dream

To once again dutifully bathe
And welcome you eventually home with 

Wide open arms

For you to embrace me forever
 
Your blessed chosen celestial deity 

Who once gave you 
Through my first creations appearance

Adam and my beloved 
Eve

To always be open
To extending kindness 

Through 
One of my old gifts 

Simply called empathy as I silently pray

You never have to grieve

(C)
Copyright John Duffy

Wednesday, November 16, 2022

For The Woman in my Dreams


(A lone voice whispers)



We met so long ago



By the Hidden Creek 

Of the Lone Cherokee



Somewhere up

In the magical circle 



In wild black bear

High-tree country



In good old Tennessee 



Surviving with torn-out hearts

And broken in two dreams



We locked eyes 

From somewhere so deep



That Morpheus couldn't tempt us 

To go to sleep



Time flew by 



Happiness 

Came like a gift from 

On High



But now 

Deep down inside



We weep 

And silently

Cry



Broken just a little bit more

Tiredness 

Creeping up relentlessly 



Even More



By life and its wealth of sacred wars



And all the tragic things 

You can never really prepare for



But since we met so long ago

By the Creek of the Lone Cherokee



Lost 



Just looking for something irreplaceable


That's so incredible and sustainable 



In the outbacks of good old Tennessee 



Survivors

With torn-out hearts

And broken in two dreams



Gods must have heard our pleas



And pulled us 

Together



For we found something so 

Precious



Its reverence 

To this very day



In all known weathers



Drives and still 

Possesses us



For our love goes 

Beyond the physical world 


But lies instead

In the hotbed of the spiritual 



Where it will live forever 

In the hereafter



For there is nothing on Earth 



That can be compared 


To the sweet love 

Of a beautiful 

everlasting friend


Until the very end



(C)

Copyright John Duffy


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The Voice at 4 am