The Craft

 The Craft 

(A lone voice speaks to a crowd of poets)

You do know everyone has their own magical style 

A style filled with such wild illustrious promises and kaleidoscope's of such deep vivid depths

For in poetry

No stone is left uncovered, 

Ranging from life to death

Whispers of love’s wild explosive adrenaline filled triumphs 

Everlasting hope or altarpieces of self-fulfillment

Descents into darkness

Opening portals to dimensions of festive destruction

And at the core for the inquisitive 

The Red Flag

The smiling frown

Up or down 

The fire to ignite a curious reader's eyes to the soul 

That really matters

Is the what

Why and guile

It's quite simple

It's why everyone has their own magical style 

For there is no guide to the labyrinth of the mind

When you enter poetry's smiling black and white turnstiles

And line up to read or write

 With so many other groups of people who are still walking or standing still in history

In single file

(C)

Copyright John Duffy 

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Winter's Solstice

Winter's Solstice 

(A lone voice whispers)

Will you

Come all

Yes,

Yea and dance

For

In the deepest woods

In that old

Woodland grove

Something stirs

An electric emotion

Consuming the very air

Can you feel

Its pulse

And all consuming

Power

Would you attend as

An invited guest

With me

And dance

Go wild

And let your mind and soul

Be held prisoner

As they are

Slowly deflowered

Beyond all worldly

Fears

As unknown spirits advance

Would you still attend

As a guest of mine

To visit my dark midnight

Winter Festival

To communicate

And bind with the

Deep divine

To be totally lost

And absorbed in its

Yellow ring

Of supernatural lights

Which will

Swirl all around us

As we breathe in

Its ancient dust

To watch and wonder

At the

Opening of hidden gateways

Above us

And below us

A spell to be cast in dark skies

By illuminated souls

Between time and space

As we prepare and stand

Hidden from

The mundane

Human race

To see a new brave world

Soon ours to summon

And command

Where

Nothing but goodness

And love will fill our old

Souls

For tonight

We will dance

With our pagan ancestors of old

It's our time of year

As we will

This supernatural festival

To arrive

To embrace maybe painful

Embers and emotions

Of Winter's long past

That may have survived

To then

Embrace old Mother Spring

The goddess of all living things

As she slowly awakes

And begins to gradually

Materialise

A flurry of cold memories

Hidden in mystical snow

To beguile

Will

You dance

Beyond wet

Tears for people

We always remember

Who have died

As we may cry

For tonight

On this pagan eve

We shall live forever

For we baptised

To be eternal

And will never

Die beyond

All who can truly see

As their reawakened

Souls

Cry out

Blessed Be

Copyright John Duffy

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Merry Christmas

 Like paper boats

Floating in the Eternal Ocean

We sometimes

Come together

In the commotion  

And stillness of Time and whisper

Have a Merry Christmas

As we share the First Law of the Chosen

By expressing our devotion

To other

Travellers

In the

Eternal Ocean

Those from business

Friends and families who seek to assist us

To help them 

Not to feel unwanted

Or frozen

So this whisper is for you

In the commotion  

And stillness of Time

Merry Christmas 

(C)

Copyright John Duffy

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A 21st Century Question?

 

A 21st Century Question?

Do people still need real human poetry in the 21st century 

Some still ask as AI plagiarizes when put to task

To be the social connectors

The innovation and invitation 

To new or old, writers

Adored heroes

Thought leaders

To breathe form from the intangible into their quiet lives

For them to taste the twist and guile of the Mysteries Schools

Poetry in all its many magical ceremonial forms provides

For soon

Each and every quest will end in a visit to a lone watchtower 

In the mind

And when one is on the other side watching from those parapets

AI won't help 

Because only real created human poetry will help you once again remember

Through someone else's shared experience 

In rhymes

All those people and things you once loved

So you don't forget 

With the passing of time

(C)

Copyright John Duffy 

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Was your Grandma wise too?

 

(A lone voice whispers)

One day, 

The rain will stop

People won't judge what you got 

One day,

The pain will stop

No more gossiping from the rooftops

One day,

All that will remain 

Is the peace you got

For the start of true love is an inside job

All these things 

My Grandma once said

Along with

Be you 

Like a raindrop in a desert

People will either love you or won't be able to find you

But it won't matter

What will matter is

You'll be a raindrop in a desert for just someone special 

And on that day

When it comes

Just keep praying 

The rain will stop

People won't matter if they judge what you don't got 

On that day,

The pain will stop

You'll stop hearing gossiping from the rooftops

And on that special day

All that will remain 

Is the peace you share

With someone who cares

For true love can start with just a single raindrop

Like finding your favourite book of poetry 

In a second hand shop

(C)

Copyright John Duffy 

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The last letter by James Ottawa

The last letter by James Ottawa

Journal Entry

4005

December 

28th

1986

In this crazy long night

Like all the many others

Before I lost my beloved child's mother

In 75'

Whenever God shines his white light

Through the Moon

To my tiny window in Tupelo, Mississippi

I hear him 

Whispering this to me

Have I told you lately

My poor child

While you're still alive

Soon you'll bring it all home to me

All those wild nights

And precious times

When you were set free

With someone like you

So on sad days like this

After your love

Your precious Domino fell

See my light

Look to the moon

And yell 

Hallelujah

Lord, hear my name

Into the falling rain 

And always remember 

I hear all those who cry out in pain

And still see all those days you all were born to be free

For all love never dies but always remains 

So don't cry

But lift up your hearts

For by me

Stands your all your Dominos

Waiting for you

To once more be set free

But this time

To see

What the living can't see

With yours whispering

Tell him 

My husband 

His child's

Mama knows

He's gotta know

This place in Heaven

Is the ultimate picture show

So be patient my son

Your race will soon be run

And that white light you see 

Shining through the moon

When your time comes

The moon opens up like a doorway

A portal 

And when your astral cord is broken 

You'll see the white light turn into a bridge leading you into it

And when your feet touches that floor

When that door closes

All will be made whole

Once more 

Then the words been spoken 

Fades

It's the same usually every few days but today

Today 

I'm sure that moon looks to be ope

(C)

Copyright John Duffy 

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The Grimore of Light Filled with Dark Regrets

A voice whispered at 1 am. 

As I sit alone at the worn gates of Yesterday

Looking through the Past's

White painted windows 

Unafraid 

Lost in deep thoughts as I watch once lost memories 

Drive past like a new presidential JFK motorcade 

Looking closely at the happy and sad games 

We once played

You and me 

Eventually 

Holding hands tightly 

Whilst the ungodly Gossiping band

Loudly played

As our Titanic slowly sunk

I can still see

Reflected in your deliciously dark eyes

The night I surrendered 

A magical night 

I'll always remember

But as all things 

In my cursed life 

Everything changed as

The metaphorical iceberg struck 

And our love slowly drowned as it

Shrunk 

That seemingly endless night we once shared

Is it now torn beyond all repair 

You were once all I ever needed

And will never forget

But as I still live in here

Wandering through the Alabaster Hall 

Of

The Great In-Between 

I will always write your beloved name

Using beautiful syllables 

In my eternal book of spells

Beside other failed dreams 

Called

The Grimore of Light 

Filled with Dark Regrets

Where you'll forever live 

As I sometimes sit at the gates of yesterday 

Once again 

Wandering through green fields of yellow memories 

Still clinging onto fragments of your sensuous silhouette

Somewhere 

If you can hear me

I hope our old love 

Still in your heart as in mine 

Holds forever strong

With memories of me 

As it too

Pirouettes

Before it too enters your

Grimore of Light 

Filled with Dark Regrets

(C)

Copyright John Duffy

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The voice of Lola

 The voice of Lola 

I heard a whisper that once said 

When you are dead

In another realm 

When you ascend

If a sudden stranger comes up to you and says 

Thanks for looking after me 

When we both lived

And gives you a big warm hug or a sweet kiss on the cheek 

Don't be frightened 

It could be one of your pets welcoming you home

For all spirits take many forms as they evolve 

Why do you think so many people like jogging or walking 

Swimming 

Climbing or talking

Me 

I probably was a parrot in a past life

Before I fell under Soul Transmigration's sharp knife

(C)

Copyright John Duffy 

The Prayer of the Outsider

 The Prayer of the Outsider

(A little old lady whispers all alone in the cold. Looking up at the rain filled sky.)

Dear God 

You brought me to life from nothing

To try to do something

To share kindness 

Compassion and a light for those in the dark

To follow 

Then to return home with stories

When my bell you ring 

To hear me stand and sing aloud 

In the Holy Circle 

About all the things I did when I was once alive 

In the living gardens of mankind

So keep giving me strength to keep doing so

As I go

Amen

(C) Copyright John Duffy

Foundation of the piece.

In a new society slowly receding away from praying, do those who still pray, only come from the expected backgrounds?

Example. 

The more mature generation.

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The Dance of The Lampyridae

 The Dance of The Lampyridae

We once danced like the glowing Lampyridae

Bathing in the molten heat of a new fire

While walking hand in hand 

Down loves panoramic highways

Flames of belonging and such sensuous fire 

Lit and consumed our aura's

But when the winter of our love season arrived 

With the familiar sound of jingle bells

Announcing our Oak wedding anniversary 

On that particular sunrise 

On December the fifth

That mesmerising spell broke like the mythical Sword of Elendil

And my world 

Shattered

So blue is my new season watching the midnight Lampyridae dance 

Alone

In the silvery moonlight

Like a young Gene Kelly and Rita Hayworth

As we once did

While my life slowly drifts

South

After I lost you

My world and the only thing that once mattered

Wandering lost in my mind's so many labyrinths filled with our hieroglyphs

As I stand alone on 

Death's high cliff

When I remember that first time we met 

On that beautiful night  

When our souls were ordained by God's light

 (C)

Copyright John Duffy

(Lampyridae: Firefly)

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