. Poetry from The Great In-Between

Friday, August 11, 2023

Emotional love

 Have you felt it too? 



Image shared under fair usage policy. 

#Senryu

Three lines with the five-seven-five syllable pattern (or something similar)

Subjects tend to be related to human nature 

So romance, ironic human behaviour, and various relationships.

Often, senryu tries to spark a laugh or "knowing moment. I "

Thursday, August 10, 2023

The Soul Broker

 (A seductive voice whispers.)



Hey

You  

Beyond the holy lights 


Want me 

To make 

You a star


Hey

You  

Beyond the holy lights 

Sat in your fortress 


Reading this in sunlight or darkness


Safely

Seated 


Hey

You  

Beyond the holy light


Want me to make 

You a star


Hey

You  

Beyond the holy lights 


With time as your

Loving whore


With hungry eyes 

Quickly bored


Want me

To make 

You a star


Call to me quick 

Call to me


So you 

I can pick

And fix


Pray for me 

To appear 

To rise by your side


And

Mama I'll make 

You a star


All you have to do

Is sign in blood


A tiny prick

On your fingertip


And 

Mama


And Mama



I'll make you 

A star


(C)

Copyright John Duffy


Images shared under fair usage policy via Pinterest. 


There are many in the music and film industry.  Hollyweird is heaving with their ilk. 

Wednesday, August 9, 2023

Senryu


Love turning to hate (5)

The most all-consuming drug (7)


To handcuff lovers (5)


(C)
Copyright John Duffy


What senryu means?

: a 3-line unrhymed Japanese poem.

 Structurally similar to haiku but treating human nature 
usually in an ironic or satiric vein.

First line 
5 syllables

2nd line
syllables

3rd line
syllables

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Tuesday, August 8, 2023

Enochian Whispers


    

I am the low whisper 

Heard faintly


In the frequencies 

In-between


The soul changing winds Of metamorphosis 


To guide you from sin

If you let my voice in


Love songs

I softly sing 


To help lovers 

Find their twin


I'm the open ocean

For some to swim


The heat to defeat cold emotions 


And although I walk in silence

Between the spaces In-between


I'm the loudest voice 

Ever heard or seen


The King or Queen 

Who's as strong as steel


The gleam in a new midnight sky


A treasure

Yours to find and hold on to

Before you die


The sweet smile on your soft lips


That shiver across your spine


Like the touch 

Of a lone fingertip


The reflection in your mirrors eyes 


The blessing to be found


Behind

Whenever you've cried


A heavenly gift that never sleeps 


Overground


The sound you'll hear 

When you pray 


Who's always around


For I'm endless

And so profound


The lone walker 

In the Underground Stream


Whenever you dream


The seed you'll need

To know


To grow 


The purple flower

In the middle 

Of your life's stream


Who follows you

Wherever you go


I bring faith will me

As a free gift

For you to always believe 


To cure 

And relieve 

If you need a lift


And though you cannot see me


I sail behind you upon your lifes many tides


Some soft

Some wild


For it's all just a brief ride


A secret friend

Bestowed from up High


Glad to meet you

And someday we'll meet



Best wishes

For I'm your eternal


Spirit Guide


(C)

Copyright John Duffy  


Image shared under fair usage policy. 


Monday, August 7, 2023

The Oracle of Acheron

 


(A lone voice whispers.)


He who fights with the most holy of ways


Will never return

Until they have learned


As new trees are made


By lay played

In so many wet insidious ways


By those hidden in the chasms

In the faraway stars


For people should be careful 


For without faith

In any form 


The nearby Darkness can open a gateway to sin


And if that abyss is opened


Revealing 

Desolations

Fatal sandstorms


It gets so much harder 

To let hope in


So O ye

O ye 


I summon by the Purple Flame


Virtue 

By the Divine Will of God


To guide you

Amen


Through Acheron

So you can 


Once more

Run


(C)

Copyright John Duffy


Art shared under fair usage policy: 


Souls on the Banks of the Acheron


A symbolist oil on canvas painting and created by, Adolf Hirémy-Hirschl, in 1898. 



The Man who talked to butterflies

 (A lone voice whispers. Lost in deep reflection. 

Musing in the throes of spiritual introspection — to a butterfly.)

And so it rained outside and even inside

For what seemed like forty days and forty nights

As I wandered lost in that yellow lonely deserted

Judean Desert

Alone

When the hard times and the whispering low vibrational voices came

On the Mount of Temptation

Fluctuating between mild and wild feelings

Intermixing with the sound of falling rain in the distance

Then peaking to unknown or unexplored heights of demoralising anxiety 

With no limits or resistance

To finally merge together 

To twirl their silver big band batons high

As they danced in absolute unrestricted low vibrational ecstasy

Underneath that grinning red sky

Unfurling

All the hidden memories and opaque trophies of troubles and strife

Which they summoned from so many others to be returned

Petitions for a means to atone

Twisted and contorted thoughts

Which opened my mind like I was being stabbed like a market robbery victim

With the Devil’s sharp knife

But as I knelt and prayed

With my eyes shut thinking about the living masses

Weighed up all the pros and cons

Imaging all the endless happiness

Still to be found within all seemingly sorrowful lives

A vision of a white cross suddenly appeared

And some soft eloquently spoken words

Echoed throughout my ears

Do not be scared of this life and all its many fears

Do not be scared to shed some sad tears for yourself or others

The happy days are soon to come

Keep your faith in this voice

Your version of the one true One

For we are many

And we appear everywhere

As in this form

He allows you to still run

For when your time is recalled by your final act in this endless chapter of life

On the cross

So many will be saved and rescued from the mighty fall to Abaddon

The Dark Lands of the Fallen Ones

And so I’ll walk on smiling

For I know now

Beyond all doubt

My soon-to-be death in Golgotha would be my ultimate gift to the world

Today and forevermore

So who am I

To dare to be late

When the world I see before me

Needs to be irrevocably changed

From Bethlehem to all the many other bent city gates

For they are all filled with green rivers of jealously

And gushing winds carrying sharp spears of fear and with so many foolishly condemning others

By false accusations

Spreading hate

All I can do is play my role to perfection

If it only saves just one poor soul

What a better way to serve my version of my Holy Father

For I now know to follow which path is my destination Home

The one I have no control over

For all life

Even mine

Reads like a precious whole poem

Just that mine will begin and end in a timeless loop

When I arrive

To stand bravely upright

Before the baying crowds

In Old Golgotha

Thanks for listening

My friend who I’ll call

Mary

In the form of a beautiful white butterfly

My mother

Who I can only pray

I’ll see once more

Before the day I die

©

Copyright John Duffy

All images shared under fair usage policy.

Sunday, August 6, 2023

Memories of Mary Jane

 


(A lone voice whispers. )


In the twilight hours

Just when the grey clouds


Break and the slow moon rises

Silently announcing 

It's getting too late


I still always wake to remember 

That auburn hair girl

I once used to date


Her bright green eyes  

And a twinkling wide smile


All things  

Young boys dream of  

And for them


To go that extra mile


But like all things that came to pass

Our love withered


The night her beloved Pa died


I tried to hold her hands  

To console her


Prayed God would wipe away all those wet tears she cried


But that new hole in her arm

Which soon swallowed up

All our hard worked for gold


Always left me feeling lonely and cold


It all ended on a fateful night

On June the first  

When the rains fell


And life was a constant fight and everything seemed on top


Filled with thirst


With my wallet and her purse empty


She got that feeling 

To go out stealing


Only to get shot dead by the cops


I can still see her now even after all these sad passing years


Now I'm old and grey  

Sat in this nursing home


Feeling all alone and filled with so many dry tears


I guess those memories of my youth will still linger and will never stop


It's quite crazy now that I'm on morphine to ease the pain


Those images of her standing in the kitchen


With those beautiful green eyes and wide beaming smile


Cooking and singing 

While outside it rained


Still play around the cinemas

In my brain


As I even now 

At seventy-five  

Remember  


Echoes of my first and last love


My beloved wife and lifelong addiction  

Called Mary Jane


My love for you  

Still survives


Wherever you are


And until we are once more  

Reunited


Will always remain


If you can hear this


Just know I still treasure those memories of us

The one's where you were free and truly alive


Copyright John Duffy


Image shared under fair usage policy via Pinterest. 

The Sacred Tree