. Poetry from The Great In-Between

Sunday, December 18, 2022

My muse. The angel called Calliope.

 


Press play before you read. Salute.

Shall we begin?


Amongst the murky misty 

encroaching images



A surreal scene 

the creators of Casablanca 



Would have been proud 

to call their very own



My new muse

An angel called Calliope 



Wandered and appeared 

walking like a real siren



Straight into my view 



Wearing a stunning 

fashionista's white dress 



She appeared 

right out of the blue 



Bent 

and with tasty red sweet lips



French kissed me 

back into life 



Watched by cautious eyes



Who had sent her 

to help me get through



Dwellers 



Ancestors and spirit guides 



Who stood hidden 

in the crescent glow 

of the Full Strawberry Moon 



Which hung high 

in the purple-hued sky 



Like an unearthly tribute 

to mortal pain 



Where all those suffering 



Made her a seat 

and bade her 



Welcome into their 

bedroom 



And in the falling night rain



I now seem to reach out 

earnestly to crave her soft touch 



As those old emotions 

of being alone 



Systematically kneel 



Submitting 

to be slain



My Calliope 

came gliding in 



Majestically last June 



Riding on the backs 

of handwritten spiritual  

 messages



Exchanged through eternal 

friends 

one glorious day 



As they discussed my story 

and all it's many open 

and well-known wounds



Notes that said I was available 



Now I've found freedom 

from old sacred vows 

of fidelity



Once spoken 

In hushed verses 



which someone else 

had recently foolishly broken



We now stand firmly 

upright 



Whenever we meet



In straight lines 



In new lands of holding 

hands whilst we're walking



Enjoying talking 

and telling each other 

funny stories 



Like meeting each other 

was foretold to be our calling



At this very moment 

as I sit here 



By the attic window 

by this old Riverside Cafe 



In the Parisian winter cold



Looking out in quiet confinement 

and contemplating how my once sad life



Suddenly turned to gold



I still in these quiet moments 

of soul-searching reflection



Embrace my newly found 

harmonious serendipity 



And all these treasured moments 

and intimate reunions



Where two newly introduced souls 

with such effortless proclivity  



Merge together 

as if guided by a strange sense of 

supernatural compatibility



Was I carefully scrutinized 

by those Hidden Watchers 



I sometimes wonder 



Angels

Who stand on blue milk crates 

in those black unknown voids



Fluctuating between time and space



Trying to find ingenious strategies 

and heavenly constructs 

to illuminate



I hope 

my much cherished 

and treasured face



Who knows 

but now I've found a compatible 

world



A fascinating realm 

replenished endlessly 

with laughter



Celebrated and baptized 

at midnight by soft wanton lips



Which collide together so passionately

Forever I hope in close proximity



I may never know all the answers 

but in scripture 



Song of Solomon says



Set me as a seal upon your heart, 

as a seal upon your arm, 

for love is strong as death, 

jealousy is fierce as the grave. 


Its flashes are flashes of fire, 

the very flame of the Lord. 


Many waters cannot quench love, 

neither can floods drown it. 



Oh, how now it matters 

for while I used to be sinking slowly 

but surely



In those former dark ominous depths 

like a twisted scene 

out of Twin Peaks 



Sitting drunk and in love 

with shrewd old Mother Gin 

and her kin 



Brother Depression 

and her twin sister



Madame Anxiety



All rebellious juveniles 

of the dark angel 

of which I will not speak 



Beneath all those whispering 

entities 

bringing worldly self-ruminating 

illuminations



Are we as human beings 

simply all the foolish choices 

we make in the low junctures 



revealing themselves to us 

before dawn



The Witching Hour



When we are weak and spiritually 

weary 



Forgetting our true selves 

and God-given powers



For I now know 

with the courage to call forth 

the light 



Love does call to us all



Even the self-righteous 

or the frightened 



If we can be brave enough 

to open up to embrace 

and welcome those who 



Watch 



and their games of Astral Chess 

as we open up our souls 

to confess



We must I suppose 

after talking to some of Father Times' 

much-admired guests 

and his many mistresses 



As I walk this life and 

greet so many of its new 

witnesses 



Always try to find the strength 

to overcome all that hides 

scurrying in the darkness 

of your mind  

 

Fighting for your attention


Just casually waiting  

until the moments right 

to maximize your depression



But still beyond this cosmic 

ever-swirling dust of reflection 

as I still breathe



As my heart beats slower 

each day as it now begs and pleads



Whenever I think of her 

my new muse 



Calliope



My soul's only intimate secret 

in a corrupted society 

who holds in her soft delicate hands



All my beating 

Red Churches keys 



Here in this present moment 

as each joyous new day 

breaks upon the upcoming horizons


Within my mind 

as I take a deep breath 

and abruptly awake from contemplation 



In this silence 



I still crave her pure voice 

and a little bit of her warm touch



For I know deep down 

as my soul for her yells



It will always be forever



For we have gone through a lifetime 

in such a short while



Ran through intense miles of pain 

and endured and conquered 

too much



And it's now why I live in hope 

as if caught living under a spell 

as I clutch and ring this 

metaphorical doorbell 



To be welcomed 

as just another kindred guest at 

The SoulMate Hotel  


Well thanks for reading but before I go


Always remember to ask for help because you never know who's watching 


Sending love and light and always try to 


Look after yourself



(C)

Copyright John Duffy 


Image courtesy of Pinterest. 

The Last Words of Atticus

  


Press play before reading.

Salute.



(A lone voice whispers)



Now my life's great party 

is over and this Black Hole  

 


I now live within 

Ruled over by Father Sin  



Which just loves to breathe 

me in and out 



Like the silver flutes once did 



When I used to walk by 

and watch the marching Bands 

of Manhattan play 



Smiling 

as the Majorettes 

twirled their shiny batons 

High in the sky



Oh, what I wouldn't give 

in this loud sound of silence


  

To quieten this startling pain 

that still hurts the most  



Even though 

I'm now just another 

lonely ghost



My cherished memories 

Of you 



Will always be my 

Immortal key 

Home



As I wait in here 

to atone


 

I used to pray 

that I'd wake up free 

from this asylum 



In the warm arms 

of my beloved 

but now lost Angel 



But no matter 

how hard the memories 

or even how painful 



 I'll keep it 

as a happy place 



Filled with all her love 

and photographs 




So, I'll just wait here 



In a hidden place 

found on no handwritten 

or drawn maps 


 

Somewhere 

Lost 



As I flutter 

my white flag of defeat  



In the cold and hot heat 

of The Great In-Between 


 

Lingering 

by these bright lights 


like I was 

walking on the Moon 



Kicking up broken 

white stones 


 

Singing sad songs 

for the hordes 



Standing 

in the creepy shadows 

On these mean streets



Watching me crying 

like a wounded King 


 

Come Back   

Don't fear us 

you won't fall 



They all chant 

as the Golden Bell rings 


 

The Crying Game 

needs feeding 



The eleven-inch nails 

need pulling out 

to stop the bleeding 


 


Stay with us 

The Nameless Things   




We who whisper and sing 

in the Dark 

all around you 


 


But all by myself 

I'll try to stay alive 



Somehow 


 

 They can keep their 

Poison and Red Wine 



Their Civil Wars 

Where even gravity falls 


 

Either way 

Here is my lone call 


 

You'll always be my reason  



My every time  

My light in this dark 



No matter the seasons 



For all my rivers of memories 

and worn-out road maps



Interweaved 

in my heavy head 

and embedded 

in my weary heart 



Always lead me 

Riding in paper boats



Back to you 



 In this mad mad world 



Even though now everything 

has fallen apart 



Just like us two




A pair of Father Times 

many heartbroken 

sweethearts


Mon seul espoir dans un monde sombre 


 (My only hope in a dark world)

 

(C)

Copyright John Duffy 


Image courtesy of Pinterest.

Saturday, December 17, 2022

The Angels Voice

 

A whisper I once heard, talking to me in a deep dream. In the low hours.

++++++++++++++++++++++



We who have lived 

and walked for more 

than a thousand years 



Invisible amongst you all 



The ever-growing 

and changing masses



Have heard and tried to answer 

so many heartfelt prayers 

as we were called 



Invocations spoken 

in the long shadows 



When pain

Suffering 

Emotional anguish 



Or grief suddenly strikes 



And convinced many 

to try to stay the course 



And be part of living 

this lifes wonderful dream



Whenever they felt doubtful 



As things seemed 

to fall apart at the seams



To always remember



No matter how magnetic 

The seductive pull 

of dark temptations



How green their own grass is 

whilst they still live 



And have so much more 

which to share and give 



We've held soft and 

hard-working hands


Of the rich or poor 



Consoled the young 

and old and tried to comfort



So many crying silently 



In the painful 

mazes of their own darkness 



Its unspoken number 

is truly unfathomable



We've appeared in many forms 

before so many others



In the dark and cold 



Sent by the Almighty on High 



To try to nurture 

and encourage those who cry



Endowing them 

with a higher power 

to always find the strength 

and courage 



In rekindling their inner flame 



Once lit so long ago 

by a sacred candle 



As we first heard 

and learnt their soul's 

secret name



To stand up strong and 

be willing and able



For we're indomitable



Angels 

sent to bring hope 

to the inconsolable



Bringers 

of so much inner peace 



For God is our strength 

and ministry 



One that speaks of 

everlasting mercy and promise



No matter how dark your worlds



Many changing political landscapes 

or forests 



My favourite name is 

Archangel Gabriel



And 

If you find one of my 

billions of white feathers 



That I sometimes leave



Especially 

for those heartbroken souls 

who in these sad times



Linked to Covid  

Grieve 



And need to once again 

Be encouraged to believe 



That their beloved 

is in a better place 



So 

As you live through your limited 

mortal life



Just pick one up 

and keep it really close



For it will bring you peace 

and tranquillity



Throughout all those morose 

long cold winters 

or hot summer nights 



When you need a new belief 

or phenomenon



Whilst seeking to conquer 

or accept 



Your physical or 

mental vulnerabilities 



To help you carry on



(And then the voice faded.....)


(C)

Copyright John Duffy 


Image courtesy of Pinterest.



A Christmas Poem


In the silence of staring

At a beautiful red luxurious Christmas card 

Laying on their once well-loved king-size bed 

Then looking coldly ahead 
As she paused and slowly remembered

A true love
Who was once so caring 

But is now hidden amongst the many sleeping dead 

With inscribed headboards made out of marble and stone 

In the cemetery 
Downtown

Laying forever with a bouquet of white Lillies 

For company 

On his own 
All alone

And as she stared longingly out of that open window 

Thinking 

Where do the dead possibly go

And to what Kingdom

A sudden gust of wind from her backyard
Blew a white feather 

Onto that card 

Catching her off guard
And reminding her 

The world and all its joys which were once theirs 

Which now feels so bitterly hard and unfair

Those incredible smiling ones
Tied together with a golden bow of fun 

Before came that card on their bed

All the way from Barcelona in Spain 

The one sent 
With the rising of the sun

But now filled with pain 
Before he flew 

In it said 
Written in gold and blue 

Happy Christmas
To you

My beautiful boo
And see you soon

Get that tree up so snow and happiness can reign
Xxx

But he never arrived 
He never came 

Instead
He died in a car crash at sunrise 

But worry not 
This is just a piece of fiction 

Just a poetic reminder 
That you never know your earthly time 

So take this as an open invitation 

Filled with a supernatural conviction 

Try to be happy before fatality breaks you up 

For the world’s not as pretty as it seems 

This Christmas

Celebrate it 
As if it's your last 

If you can

Try not to be like one of the lonely people

Baptized forever to sit staring 

By the cruel Gods of the Despairing

No more caring 
But bearing a heavy load

Perhaps like Scrooge 

Painfully pondering 
And always wondering 

How long
Will the pain they feel 

Linger and last 
As they live 

Cold

Like one of lifes
Lonely outcasts

(C)
Copyright John Duffy

Image courtesy of Pinterest.

If Life was a Senryū


I give you freely 

Relationships love and pain 

In any order 

(5,7,5)



(C)

Copyright John Duffy



Senryū is a Japanese form of short poetry similar to haiku in construction: 


three lines with 17 syllables. 


Line 1 has 5.

Line 2 has 7.

Line 3 has 5


Senryū tends to be about human emotions while haiku tend to be about nature, and senryū are often cynical or darkly humorous while haiku are more serious.



Image courtesy of Pinterest.

Friday, December 16, 2022

Questions for an inquisitive mind

 


Lost like Captain Briggs 
On the Mary Celeste



In the graveyard shift 



And 
Sailing into wild seas 
of crashing fast words 



With metaphors following our ship 
like relentless Seagulls 
or other scavengerous birds



Do we as poets or writers 

Seek out and use profound words



To help the sometimes lonely souls 

Reading even this



To find a plateau to distract themselves 

from the ever-ravenous world 


With our divine gift 

As they temporarily anchor 

their ships



Maybe a world filled with heartache 


Abuse 

Grief 

Depression 

Anxiety 



Or even sudden death


While the rising Wolf Moon smiles 

and watches 



As their time and spiritual essences 

are endlessly consumed



Are poets and writers 

like me or even you 



Just the true kings and queens 

of the art of 

Creatio Ex Nihilo


Because we're so skilled 

at making things up 

without little fuss 



To say hello 

So the readers know 


That they are not alone



With stories 

that can sometimes save 

and comfort those 


Who needs something emotional 

to help carry them 

through the low hours


And change their mood



Especially 

in the middle of the dawn 

or dusk 



When old emotions or pain 


Can suddenly bloom 

like an irremovable wound

Without a sound 


By all the Gods

Known to man



Praise be to the Universe 

For the answers to all 



Those monumental 

Questions 


Has always been 

Yes 



(C)

Copyright John Duffy 


Image courtesy of Pinterest.



Thursday, December 15, 2022

The love song of Shirley O'May


 Press play before reading.

Salute 



Oh my  



Shirley O'May  

My Shirley O'May  



I still miss your sweet smile  

Today  



Today


  

Caught no more  

Than a ray


Than a ray


Standing  

By your grave  



Is that why  

My sky's always grey  



Always grey  



Oh my  

Oh my  



Shirley O'May  

Shirley O'May  



For my soul felt real pain  

Today  



Real pain today  



When it remembered  



The sacred vow  

We once made  



Once made  



Under the cherry tree  

You and me  



You and me  



With Father Mckay  

Father Mckay  



On Valentine's Day  

Your birthday  



Your birthday  



But I guess  

If God could confess  



Confess  

He would say  



It's why he made  

Memories  



Memories


So those you love  



Like you and me  

Once wed under  

The Cherry Tree  



The Cherry Tree  



So those you love  

Stay  



And never truly fade  

Away


Stay  

But never truly fade  

Away



Oh my  



My beloved  

Shirley O'May  



I still miss your sweet smile  

Even though  



It was taken from me  

On the 5th of May  



On the 5th of May  

Everyday  



Everyday  



For even though  

We have memories  



Memories  

My heart  

Will always feel grey  



Feel grey  



For it will forever miss  

The things it loves  



When they go away


Away  

Like you  



Like You  

My life's first kiss  



My one and only 



Beloved  



Beloved  

Shirley O'May  



Shirley O'May  

  

  



(C)  

Copyright John Duffy


Image courtesy of Pinterest.

Tuesday, December 13, 2022

Argento Dreams

 (A lone voice whispers)



Press play before reading.

Salute.



I've got a deep well 



Covered in strange green and golden ivy


Built under a golden glimmering bell


In my garden of deep lucid dreams 



Lost somewhere in Morpheus Wonder Grounds



It's a quiet beautiful place 

Of total surrender 



I sometimes remember 



As I lay tenderly in my chamber



A place where my profound Guardian Angel 



My eternal 

Muse waits 



My spiritual queen who brings me 



Divine gifts linked to soul-lifting poetry 



Always whispering 

In my subconscious




Dépêche-toi 

Dépêche-toi 

Dépêche-toi 



(Hurry up.)

(Hurry up.)

(Hurry up.)



Dépêche-toi



As she watches from The Great In-Between 



While I play in the real worlds 



Many fast-moving streams



Whilst I'm awake and moving around



But when my tired eyes start to 



Flicker and quiver 



And start to look across at Slumber Down's slow-moving river



She rings that golden magical bell 



To summon me to the Talking Bench 



So my soul 



She may converse with in supernatural 



Visions 

and multiple forms 



And her hungry thirst for company 



Quench 



Dépêche-toi 

Dépêche-toi 

Dépêche-toi 



Is all I hear 



When my tired eyes 

Search for Slumber Downs River 



Along with




Viens à moi mon amour.



Et laissez-moi vous baptiser avec des visions incroyables, d'en haut.



Car nous possédons la nuit, comme nous nous possédons.



Come to me, my love.



And let me baptize you with incredible visions, from so High Above.



For we own the night like we own each other.



Dépêche-toi 

Dépêche-toi 



N'ose jamais m'oublier 



(Don't you ever dare to  forget me )



So who am I 

To let angels weep 



For can just faintly hear that golden bell ring 



Summoning me to The Talking Bench 



As she sings 



Dépêche-toi 

Dépêche-toi 



(Hurry up)

(Hurry up)



Et laisse-moi être ton Hélène de Troie 



(And let me be your Helen of Troy )



Maintenant, endormez-vous 



(Now fall to sleep)




Mon âme sœur et viens dans mon donjon.



(My soul mate and come to my keep)



(C}

Copyright John Duffy 

Image shared via Pinterest.

Sunday, December 11, 2022

Do politicians wear a mask? Some quietly ask.

(A lone voice whispers)



Do politicians wear a mask
Some quietly ask 



One that smiles so sweetly
While it hides their lies 


Linked to promises
Made throughout the weeks 


To desperate eager hungry eyes 


With hearts beating
Powered by odious guile 


And narcissism 


Unable to really answer
Any forms of criticism 


While living in a secret world of elitism 


Which rewards new concepts and policies 


Linked to creating division
While toasting capitalism 


Can we the paying public 

Ever trust all their costly decisions 



Presented with a soft voice of kindness 


Deals and contracts 


Signed and sealed with secret handshakes 


In champagne-filled backrooms 


That will lead so many chanting in glee 


Unable to see 


It will lead them dancing to the cemetery 


So here's today's task 


Can you ever trust a smiling politician 


With bright sharp caring eyes


And a smile as wide as a country mile 


Who obviously
Wears 


A devious mask 




(C)
Copyright John Duffy

Images courtesy of Pinterest. 








The Repentant Soul Speaks

 The Repentant Soul Speaks

(A lone voice whispers)

I still miss your sweet voice.

(For deep down.
Past all my innermost self-doubts.
I just miss it so much.)

I can still remember the last time I heard it.

It was June, the thirty-first.
(When we were in touch.)

Its dulcet tones spoke of such delicious, luscious things to be explored in the dark. At night.

To be brave enough to expose and tear one's soul apart.

A once much-held-up secret theory by Descartes.

(For such was its seductive power, like Francisco de Goya's, "The Nude Maja.
A true work of art.)

Is that why life is sometimes so painful.
(As I sit lonely. Thinking of you at my table.)

Thinking constantly of my one and only angel.

I guess I should be grateful.

That I feel remorseful.

For I once heard a strange story about Micheal the Archangel.

Stating quite eloquently.

To have once lived.
Loved and lost.

Is never shameful.

But to have never known love

Now that could be fatal.

(C)
Copyright John Duffy

Image courtesy of Pinterest.


The Voice at 4 am