Press play.
Salute.
.
In this grey shade of semi-darkness
I've sat down by the IPFT and looked again down through time
Past all the fast-moving images and those sad heartbreaking ones
Portraying illnesses
Lit a white Dominion protection magic candle and pondered
Is she with another I just can't see
Someone else's older or younger brother
That soulmate who once professed and confessed
She was only mine
Would she still love me beyond all she feared
If I could somehow suddenly appear
Would her sweet kisses taste the same as before
When we first met and I told her my sacred name
As I stood at her front door
But would she forget me this time when she got home
Delete my old number on her phone
I know she's a siren
Lord
A beautiful beacon
A light in the dark who all fall to their knees
Whenever she calls
Is that why I'm cursed by the green shards of Belazor
In this grey shade of semi-darkness
As I embrace my own form of holy crucifixion
Charged to look down through time forever
And tasked by Malachi
To always light a white Dominion magic protection candle
From the sacred box of self-introspection
And ponder
Is she with another that has my reflection
Who looks like me
Someone else's younger or older brother
Now I've died and can only use the IPFT
To see
Copyright John Duffy
Image shared under fair usage policy.
If you could write a poem reflecting your reflection in a mirror.
What would you write?
It could be anything. Personality goes way beyond looks. My opinion of course.
Here's my take on a dash of fun for the restless minds, constantly poked by Calliope.
Some call me Ole Smoky
For I'm 100% all natural
So damn deep
It's supernatural
So unique
I'm unnatural
For my aura and sense of humor
Is so inflammable
(C)
Copyright John Duffy
Foundation of the piece.
Mother's play such an integral, important part of a child's early life. And expands into everything else.
If you're lucky.
This piece is just a simple representation of that lasting legacy.
Did your mother leave a secret room in your heart, where she still lives?
Title:
Lucy
(A lone voice whispers)
I once held tightly
With small arms
A white candle that burnt with the heavenly perfume of total joy
Loved lighting and embracing its light whenever she called around
My mother
Lucy
To my bedroom to tell me such remarkable childhood stories
Hold my hand
When I was her little boy
When Love burnt so bright
And that flame seemed to last throughout
Every long scary night
But now that heavenly flame no longer burns
For to Heaven's Great Gates
She has returned
So here I am
In Saint Paul's
Lighting a votive candle
This Sunday
As I enter its four alabaster walls
For even though my white candle has gone out
And the long nights
Seem so much more darker
Our deep love forever takes a more profound meaning
Whenever I see her beautiful face
In our favourite silver Elsa Peretti picture frame
We picked together last May
On the twenty-first
At Tiffany & Co
When my wife and I covered her
In our pink and blue wedding confetti
The first lady to love me when God sent me
To go
Face the trials and tribulations
That comes with living on the earthly plane
And now that deep love resonates and vibrates into oblivion
For even though she had to depart
She now lives forever in a secret room
In the centre of our beating hearts
Proudly smiling and watching
Me and my Kelley
As our
love for us
And her
Like an eternal white rose
Too Blooms
(C)
Copyright John Duffy
A poetic monologue for the inquisitive.
Title:
The Msula
(A lone voice whispers)
Have you worn one of those old red coats yet
The one given by one of the invisible Riders in the silent night
The Msula
Who knows when your libido's getting wet
For the first time
A coat filled with holes and tears
From someone else
Who no longer needs one to wear
A symbol of hopes and dreams
Sometimes in vain
For wearing it spiritually doesn't mean love will remain
And it may even bring you pain
But have you worn one like I once did
When I was a kid
When I felt my heartbeats rise like the early morning sunrise
The weight and happiness tied together within a red ribbon of bliss
In that first kiss
Then the solitude
Way after
But I still wore it proudly looking for its twin
Another red coat wearer
With tears and holes
Frayed seams
But still keen
It's how I found my Mary before her coat was taken back
By one of the Riders in the silent night
The Msula
When she died
To be given to another new land walker
To feel the anxiety, concern, difficulty, duty, hardship, load, onus, responsibility, strain, task, tax, trouble, worry.
And dissatisfaction that comes from wearing it
But also how all those burdens are extinguished in the bliss of that first kiss
Oh, how I miss her
Now I'm 89
But a Night Rider appeared to me late last night
Said
Write your last thoughts down Henry
Your time with the red coat is nearly over
I'll be coming for it tomorrow before you crossover
So tear a hole in the fabric
And pull at the seams
When you can see it before you go to Mary
In The Great In-Between
You see the holes and tears add to the magical essences
Of wearing one of our holy gifts
For it helps keep the hope for love present
When all seems lost
And helps to find the twin coat of the new wearer
Just like you and how you found your Mary
Guided by one of us
The Old Fairies
So before I go
Wear yours proudly
Be kinder and
Vibrate higher
And if you already haven't found your twin red coat wearer
Just know
The Riders in the silent night
The Msula
Will soon find its twin and introduce your heart to heavenly choruses of hallelujah's
In the form of a new love
So good night and good luck
For I can just see my beloved Mary in the distance calling
Standing beside one of the Night Riders
The forever smiling
Msula
As the moon and stars above seem to start falling
(C) Copyright John Duffy
Image created by Adobe Express.
The human experience has always intrigued, and formed the foundation stone of these monologues. In poetic form.
I create.
This is but another.
Salute.
Have you walked through hell to find your own piece of heaven?
Title:
Rebirth
(A lone voice whispers)
Consumed by times long reach
My old love now walks on a new beach
No more Greenwich Village walks
Trips downtown to Manhattan
No more listening to Van Morrison on a hot Sunday afternoon
Drinking cold lemonade
In the shade
As passing yellow butterflies played
Smiling in unison
Watching the local ice cream van sound its arrival
With that particular catchy tune
Or reading Dostoevsky
Page by page
Aloud or creating poetry
Together
I guess
Looking back with my rose-tinted glasses taken off
It was like a prophecy in the Book of Revelations
To find heaven,
You must first face hell
Walk through the oncoming Apocalypse
Breathe in the final moments of despair
See your once bright sunflower wither and float away
To some sacrificial altar where they all go
Drawn by a dark power
Down some old black as death itself river
For like the Lotus flower
We sometimes need to grow in the sludge
To bloom
(C)
Copyright John Duffy