Discourse

 

(A lone voice whispers)

Is one of the soul - satisfying pleasures of creating poetry. 

For you.

Searching methodically through your vocabulary, dark enclave.

For that unique word to complete your phrase.

To then present to simulate someone 

Chained up to Poetry's fast-moving ship 

Like an indentured gallery slave

With your intentions emanating like radioactive electromagnetic waves?

 

Or are you too, just another gallery slave who just writes poetry?

As you row for you. 

Expressing those never-ending whispers, whenever they appear, right out of the blue?

(C)

Copyright John Duffy 

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Sunday's Musings

 

(A lone voice whispers)

Are you happy with your life?

Are you content?

Have you ever thought many might seek what you already have and take for granted 

Especially those feeling abandoned and surviving, in hurriedly put up 

Red Cross tents

Walking around 

Hungry 

Unloved or empty-handed 

Have you ever thought about a word many may forget and choose not to embrace 

A word called gratitude 

For when we express our gratitude for what we have, never forgetting the highest form of appreciation is not to simply utter mere words, but to live them

And be glad what we have achieved

To then never let a day pass without embracing with gratitude all it contains

As they are received 

Appreciating and revelling within all those intricate, intriguing, beguiling moments, which may appear transitory and fleeting.

A meal 

A roof over your head

Time spent with family and friends

Laughter and joy

A warm bed 

Expressing conscious gratitude will attract more such wondrous occasions

Regardless of whatever comes bouncing back within one of Fate's many toys

For as a follower of King Solomon once said

All the riches within this world can never compare to the priceless wealth you already have;

The Love within. 

Maybe good books, great friends, and a loving family.

Or just self awareness 

Can one have too much of them?

So don’t wait for a special occasion or chase a particular sensation.

For every day is a secret blessing, since our feelings make us human.

Don't wait until your end of days to know this 

Learn to embrace, then release them like a deep breath of acceptance.

Because being Spiritual has nothing to do with what you believe, but everything to do with your state of being.

Did you know, some of the happiest people are sometimes those lost in the selfless service of the needy?

Accepting all they have with peace?

So my advice to you.

Never sacrifice who you are for someone else.

Be strange, weird, deep, mysterious and unfathomable.

Someone out there needs or seeks you.

Just know your life is your story.

So always try to paint and write it with love and gratitude, for they are the greatest painters and writers of all.

Be Inspired 

Love your Life with Gratitude 

For it would be rude

And a shame not too

(C)

Copyright John Duffy 

 

Chapel at Rest

 

Foundation.

Poetry encompasses all aspects of the human experience.

This piece relates to the last visit.

A tragic part of life we all will someday endure.

If you already have, sending blessings.

Title:

Chapel at Rest

(A lone voice whispers)

Are lone goodbyes like lone turtle-doves that serenely fly away 

In wild winds of memories of a once beautiful Yesteryear 

Of one day 

They're here

And one day they're gone.

But you always, afterwards, cry silently inside 

In somewhere deep and quiet,

In new realms of unfamiliarity

Where beloved memories hide

When you remember moments of tranquility and sincerity 

Before that old love went away and unjustly died

 (C)

 Copyright John Duffy 

Image shared under fair usage policy by Friedrich Wilhelm Theodor Heyser Ophelia

Atsila: The Fire Lady

Atsila: The Fire Lady.

(A old voice whispers before midnight)

There's a light bringer I know.

Whose shadow still follows me, deep within my soul.

Everywhere I go.

Making me, sometimes, in deep moments of sleep.

Wander down to a White Room.

Hidden amongst, the beating red, in my heart's very keep.

We sometimes talk.

Sometimes, holding hands.

Walk and slow dance to Teddy.

And it always ends, with me in her arms.

Like Julius and Cleopatra.

When they too, were ready, to start going steady.

And then both whispering how we love each other so.

A soul I once met, from a place, so long ago.

I'll never forget.

Such a poetic swagger.

A husky voice to turn ice to water.

Just like Mick Jagger.

Some say we live and love in a Matrix, and what we wish for.

We can get, but every so often the Great Creator, likes to play divine tricks. 

Filled with such regrets.

So now, we two meet.

After midnight, deep within me.

In that keep.

In a White Room, surrounded by a fast flowing, Red Sea.

Together in spirit.

Separated in flesh, by blue oceans and seas.

The Cherokee called, Atsila, and a love struck cowboy.

Where every second in that room is precious. 

A beginning and end. Blossoming with such joy.

The girl with the golden guitar and the brown-eyed boy.

Today is the anniversary of the first day, we met.

In that White Room that suddenly appeared.

So I send this out.

A message for you, Atsila.

My fire lady who I cannot forget.

Channeled within this poetic smoke.

To guide you to our spirits, secret outpost.

Bring those dark eyes.

That husky voice and those tender touches.

That I need and still miss the most.

For our love goes so deep, normal routine folks, can't relate to our spirits ghosts.

So just find your way to me, for I'll always be waiting.

Night or day at that outpost.

Your host, dressed in white after midnight, every night.

In that very room.

Your souls' lover, who loves you more than most.

Just awaiting the return, of you, Atsila.

In the form, of your spirits ghost.

(C)

Copyright John Duffy 

(Atsila means fire)

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Love never dies. Praise be.

 

Foundation.

I had a discussion with a priest and as we talked.

We unraveled the greatest days of our life.

Birthdays, school, relationships, weddings, celebrations, art, writing and holidays.

He then mentioned the Wake.

A time when you're there with all your family and friends at one of the greatest days of your life, but not.

What music would you choose?

Food.

And would you write a letter to be read out, if you got the chance?

An intriguing theme to consider on this rather hot Thursday morning.

Beyond all we achieve in life, sometimes its how we celebrate it that helps us live on 

What food and music would you pick?

Would you write a letter?

Salute.

________

Title.

Love never dies.

Praise be. 

(A lone voice whispers)

Even though I'm here but I'm not

I'm here in spirit as I have transcended 

Praise be

Even though I'm here but I'm not

I'm no longer in pain, 

As all those old tears don't matter anymore. 

For I can only pray they are now tears of happiness, as I lay there on that sacred floor 

In front of you all

For all to see

For I'm at peace 

Praise be 

All those old tired moments you watched me suffer, will soon pass

Replaced by youthful memories of me

The birthdays 

Weddings, 

Holidays and so much more.

So all can say in closing is I have transcended 

Praise be

And wipe away all those hopefully happy tears as you remember me

For we will all meet again

 

When you too have to walk through this great door.

And always remember 

I'm only offshore 

So never forget me

For all that pain you feel will be soon replaced by happier memories 

For all those sad tears won't matter anymore 

Praise be 

Remember me 

(C)

Copyright John Duffy 

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Have you encountered this insufferable word before?

 

Have you encountered this insufferable word before?

In business or personal life?

Title.

Frustration.

(A lone voice whispers)

Frustration.

Has it reared its eventful head yet?

A word laced with multiply meanings.

Connected to people, dreams, ambitions, times, places, and irritations.

If so, why let it subdue you?

Maybe slow count to ten and start again?

To try to free your mind and see your soul fly?

Change your thinking and free your mythical third eye?

And after whatever you do, whenever you reach that illuminated mode

Slow smile and whisper this battle cry

“I'll constantly try to be free

To be the true me until it's time to announce my final goodbye.

Ain't no Frustration going to cloud my expectations.

For I Live with Hope and will be an inspiration for further generations.”

So now that I've subtly made you read and silently absorbed those ritual lines into your universe 

A new empowering mantra.

Let's now conquer Frustration with its twin,

Aspirations and welcome her into your inner realms with a loud cry of exclamation

Never let Frustration be a statute of limitations

Instead, use it within an ancient philosophical and metaphysical practice like alchemy

And Transmutate all that pent-up energy into Aspirations 

A form of your own inner gold

You can thank me later.

For words listened to, spoken or absorbed can have such regal power.

If we let them flower 

It is just another silent way to grow slightly richer 

As you grow older.

While trying to overcome all things at any given hour

As you look out from behind those courageous eyes, you use as your great watchtower 

Now repeat after me:

I'll constantly try to be free.

To be the true me until it's time to announce my final goodbye.

Ain't no Frustration going to cloud my expectations.

For I Live with Hope and aspire to be an inspiration, for further generations.

(C)

Copyright John Duffy 

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Who has shaped your idiolect?

 

Foundation:

Who has shaped your idiolect?

Title.

My old love

(A lone voice whispers)

Within old letters sent that still create such powerful emotions that wills my very soul to genuflect 

And on favourite  photographs upon which I have wept

Memories of us together shall echo like Notre Dame cathedral bells 

Throughout me

For now, I speak 

Influenced by your profound idiolect

For all to see

(C)

Copyright John Duffy 

A person’s idiolect in this case relates to:

The all encompassing linguistic impressions left by people you once knew or now know.

From life experiences and language encounters.

What you've read and who you've listened to.

From grandparents, parents, friends, teachers, and lovers.

Who have influenced you.

Do you ever repeat or use similar phrases like someone you know or knew?

Suddenly, unconsciously, right out of the blue!

 

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Juvenile Memories

 

Foundation.

With the conception and availability of social media to look someone up.

Have you ever looked up an old forever, once in a while?

Title:

Juvenile Memories 

(A lone voice whispers)

There's still a bright light,

I look for out there.

To be found randomly somewhere, to always make me smile.

Whenever I think of you

My forever, once in a while 

For you still illuminate a secret part of my heart, like a country mile 

Even though you once bit me hard, like a wild African crocodile 

(C) Copyright John Duffy 

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The Lone Disciple called Jerome. Speaks.

 

(A lone voice whispers)

Are you like a lone bottle, 

A rare Nebuchadnezzar 

Floating in the middle of humanities blue sea 

A lonely spirit who can think of no other greater devotion 

Then being the yellow sandy beach

For someone drowning in parts of a seemingly never-ending 

Undulating ocean 

Are you like a white feather blowing randomly in its four winds 

Filled with relatable emotions 

One of the Blessed Few who are also related to the Broken 

Who must endure, the dark clouds and icy cold waters of damnation 

In slow motion 

The kind who hides in long shadows of commotion 

Those deemed blind and impure by mankind 

But always secretly looking for a cure 

For blessed are those who cry out 

For a form of rescue, as life pulses and tests you 

Blessed are the ones who suffer from love withdrawals 

Linked to quarrels of joy and mirth

Here

Hidden 

Just somewhere

On Earth 

For I will make them Most High

Says all the forms

Of all High Lord's 

Blessed are the stranded castaways filled with despair 

As they sit there crying in silence 

Thinking no one cares,

Upstairs 

Blessed are those love torn who shake their fists in fury 

At the watching heavens, Angelic jury's 

Cursing them 

Slowly dying

Feeling cursed 

Before their spirit bursts, and they end up in a shiny black hearse 

You are not alone

For I'm empty in spirit too 

Broken

And I see you 

For

We are kin 

Two strangers

Walking hand in hand 

As these deep occult waters run over everything 

Corrupting all they touch

With their insidious sin 

So if you don't know where you belong 

Can't navigate alone 

No place to lay your head, and no heart to call your home 

Take my words and then call my name 

For I am Jerome 

So named to guide you home

So we can dance together in the pouring rain 

So you're not on your own 

And together, entwined 

We'll purge our pain 

For we are blessed 

Two of the High Lord's best 

True survivors, enduring life and all its emotions 

For sometimes in life

Circumstance and fate

Might have built high walls to climb 

To reach your soul's

Nickels or dimes 

And there's no guilt to confess in women or man 

If you feel stranded or split between love and hate 

For The King of all the High Lord's so loved the broken 

And so I have spoken 

Just you wait

One day he'll open up the crimson gates 

Just keep praying

For hope always appears 

When everything seems dark and too late 

For there are some things that sometimes need to be broken 

Such as stubbornness

Pride and many other sinful habits 

For when we feel lost in our total brokenness

Our choice of God can build us back up 

For Your Lord is always walking beside the broken-hearted, and tries to save those who feel unworthy in spirit

So if you live in a painful place, but are also contrite 

There is still hope

Which will appear miraculously, to help you cope 

(C)

Copyright John Duffy

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Reunited

 Reunited 

(A lone voice whispers)

All things might one day die, but not us

For we are timeless beings

Two feverish minds lost in new landscapes of The Great In-Between

Who Love has stubbornly refused to let go

As her friends sit back smiling, watching our incredible picture show

So, will you take my hand for this, our last dance?

While I still breathe and we still have a chance before sunrise?

For as you watch me with dark inescapable eyes 

While Prince sings the Beautiful Ones

I'll take your soft hand and trace the shape of desire upon your sensuous soft skin

To will you to let me in

As I blindfold your eyes while preparing a surprise

And when Darling Nikki finally sings a song filled with Computer Blues

I'll consume you and as you quiver and shiver

I'll hold you tightly 

Skin to skin

And look deeply within your dark eyes and slowly whisper

Beyond this mortal world, filled with darkness and pain 

We are reborn just to be together again 

And as your low echoes fill our candlelit red room 

I'll know then,

I just have to replay the Beautiful Ones 

For a night of explorations of the unknown and the untouched will soon begin 

A Holy Land of dark crucibles of intense pleasure and sweet pain 

As feverish minds in this new domain begin to wildly run 

For love has stubbornly refused to let us go

So while her friends are sitting back smiling, watching our complicated picture show

Will you take my hand for this, our last dance?

While we both breathe, and still have a chance?

(C)

Copyright John Duffy