Are you a type A, B, or C personality when it comes to writing poetry?

Foundation.

Can people be characterized by how they approach creating poetry?

Well, let's see if points A, B, or C leave an impression?

Title.

Are you a type A, B, or C personality when it comes to writing poetry?

(A lone voice called, Alya, whispers)

Well, hello, are you ready to listen to my voice, and hear what I think I know?

 

Are you: A.

A rhymer?

A gatekeeper to old or new emotional sensations?

Demanding the freedom to live in a new format?

For real eyes to read from the human nation? 

Or are you: B.

A young or old timer, like a goldminer from 1827.

At Coker Creek?

In the high country of Monroe County, Tennessee?

Searching for the right lines, like pure gold?

To express and extinguish a cold, uncontrollable fire?

To turn your soul into one of Poetry's many soldiers, who love all-nighters filled with unquestionable desire?

Going to war every day against tones and metaphors.

Juxtapositions or cold terror?

Or are you: C.

Just another lonely driver?

Stuck on the highways of dreams with a blown tire?

Searching for someone new to become real fighters together?

Who also loves Poetry's all-nighters?

With a mirror image to hold tighter and to help make the load so much more lighter?

Or are are you just a mixture of the three? 

A: represents the need to just write poetry for pleasure.

B: represents the need to just write poetry for catharsis. 

C: represents the need to just write poetry while seeking solace, in someone special.

Who shares the same bliss of experiencing, Poetry's deep kiss?

(C)

Copyright John Duffy 

Image shared under fair usage policy. 

Neglēctiō

 

Foundation.

A path walked by many.

Loss, in its many forms, can change oneself in many subtle ways.

From failed relationships to the passing of loved ones to opportunities.

One subtle way is simply forgetting to care for oneself, physically or mentally.

Reaching out always helps.

Sending blessings if you're walking the path or have walked its nettle-filled roads.

Salute.

Title.

Neglēctiō (L)

(A lone voice whispers)

I never really knew what the slow death of the soul genuinely meant and all its many difficult sensations.

Until the apparition appeared, creeping and bent.

Introducing himself as the dark master, known as Mister Neglēctiō.

The master of the soul's descent.

Armed with his armada of spiritually, self-depreciating, equations.

To breach my trust with his fraudulent intent

(C)

Copyright John Duffy  

Image shared under fair usage policy.

The Secret Book of Dzyan,R

A dash of creative writing.

Magic and love entwined.

Why?

Don't you feel, with reflection, falling in love is like being under a strange binding spell?

A spell that compels you night and day to behave in a strange way?

Did love cast a spell over you like the mage below?

Title.

The Secret Book of Dzyan,

As the Mage watched from afar, through remote viewing. 

He channelled a secret prayer to the brightest star in the four winds.

As he assumed the meditation pose.

He began reciting his evocation to the spirit guides, watching from the 5th level of the Astral Realms.

For them to take it back to her, from Beyond the Purple Rainbows.

As they swirled all around him. 

________________________

(A lone voice whispers)

Your dark eyes are like priceless blue oceans 

  

I whisper to the watching Elementals

I dream to dive in deep and drown within

For they are deeper than any of the known lakes

To bathe in their once-tasted waters

Is where I want me to always fall

And reveal my soul as it experiences its first taste of sin

For your inquisitive eyes, soft, tender lips, and smooth skin

Is a treasure I seek where I'd nightly kneel to pray 

For a new Atlantis

To be reborn

Within

Your eyes are like magnetic dark portals

For my souls

Astral nightly projections 

As I conquer its many strange citizens with my own supernatural powers

To reach you

Defeating 

On one of its many long ethereal roads

Architects of so many devious deceptions 

Just to see your twin eyes, for they are like the best friends

Love could ever possibly buy, and that’s why

I just love popping by

To rejoice in The Coming of our own Divine Invasions

The once lost words

Recitals and such memories of succulent prose

Once written for your eyes only 

Are just my own divine stanzas

Like written in The Secret Books of Dzyan

A silver shimmering sea

Where we will soon forever fly

Like dark eaglesPaired, Forever wild and untamed

For as our lonely souls once met

So long ago 

In the Great In-Between

We were anointed to be simply 

Free and Unchained

And it's why I always pray to return

To finally conjure you into life

And your love to earn

But until then, I'll just breathe you 

Into my dreams

Whenever I visit 

The Great In-Between 

So be it

(C)

Copyright John Duffy

image shared under fair usage policy.

 

Josefina

(A lone voice whispers)

A rare beauty I did once but see.

By mountain tops, by the raging blue sea. 

Where white clouds bowed themselves too in fealty, when my bell:

She did ring. 

Oh, how I still love to hear her sing. Playing that golden guitar.

In deep dreams, poetry and sweet rhymes. 

Remembering incredible times.

Walking by mountain tops, near that raging blue sea. 

When white clouds smiled nearby, in a show of fealty.

As they too saw that  rare beauty, who once seduced me.

By the raging blue sea

(C) Copyright John Duffy 

Image shared under fair usage policy.

Cogitation

 Foundation.

Depending on your age or  having a busy schedule, have you forgotten your younger years?

Title.

Cogitation

(A deep thought whispers)

Have you ever sat under the sun and looked back over your life's many old pages?

Remembering how you once ran, with whom and at what age?

Or have those old memories turned to dust?

All family and friends. Young and old love.

Moments of misery compounded by huge moments of victories.

People you once trusted now resigned to your own pages of history?

So, I'll ask again and use this as a prompt within this prose.

Have you ever paused under the hot sun?

Sat in the shade and looked back at old memories as they replayed?

 

Remembering happier times when you were having such fun?

The best ones, with maybe those, no longer around, as those incredible memories are eventually found? 

(C)

Copyright John Duffy 

Image shared under fair usage policy.

Zinzino

 

Zinzino

(A lone voice whispers)

For many years I have seen your world get darker, be it by brooks or societies underground streams.

I've wandered through dreams with Morpheus.

Saw political-hungry eyes gleam.

Free from light but dark, beside brooks or underground streams.

Just know this, from I, Camael.

A beast hides his face amongst those where it sows its seeds, of greed and disgrace.

As it's welcomed willingly, into corrupt places.

By hungry eyes that gleam, bereft of any of humanity's God's graces.

(C)

Copyright John Duffy 

Image shared under fair usage policy.

The name "Zinzino" is of Italian origin and translates to "a small piece with great value",

Melancholy Love

 Foundation.

Books, film, poetry, and songs are saturated by broken love.

Sometimes people get together who were never meant to be together.

This is but another.

Title.

Melancholy Love

(A lone voice whispers)

Even though we loved so deeply and fought so many picky wars

That invisible tears still stain our faces

Marked by emotional scars, which bare our flaws

I know one day we'll meet again as friends 

For true love never ends

And as long as our hearts still beat

There's still time to achieve this feat

But if there ever comes a time, when Charon's Obol arrives 

And you survive, as I sail by

Just know now

Some men are just mundane fools, to fall in love.

But with you, I've fallen in love a thousand times, with a gift bestowed from Above

For true heavenly revelations, sometimes lay scattered, within small moments, of casual conversations and picky fights

To then make up at night

 

As two embrace last year's New Year's resolution of:

“This year will be the making of us.”

For even if I lay with Charon's cold silver Obol

I'll sing to you, within that new flux

My life's final absolution, 

My only love song

And it's why my love

You'll live forever 

For loving you was truly  never wrong

(C)

Copyright John Duffy 

Image by Jeffrey Lewis Bennett, shared under fair usage policy

Bordello Thoughts

 

Within these low whispers, lost in the brothels of my mind 

Revolving in the deep depths

As I sit here 

Alone at my old desk

I can feel the subtle arrival of you, and the vibrational presence of other viewers

Maybe on their beloved cellmate, their phone or computer 

So here's to you all

You the bohemians 

Eccentrics 

Originals and mavericks

Of mankind 

The kingdom builders of visual new world's that shine through 

Like Morpheus's Looking Glass

Using the power and brilliance of inspired words and fluted thoughts

I pray you continue to seek more 

Like l do

Searching for the one I still adore 

Calliope

Who walks on rivers of crimson fire and grey ash

In memories gardens to be reunited, after she stepped through another stage door 

You 

The Ones blessed with the brilliance of words and fluted thoughts 

Only you I can praise

You the searchers and creator's

Poetic

Time abusers

Just constantly try to be free and never bought

Or caught like me, by always chasing poetry's, new dammed train of thought 

(C)

Copyright John Duffy

 Image shared under fair usage policy.

The Monologue of Brigid.

 

(A lone voice whispers)

I am that which sends darkness running and into orbit 

The flood and spark of all things walking, through, life's many forests 

The flaming sword that never runs cold

To pierce and warm your heart, whenever you feel old

The Toll keeper and Soul Reaper 

Masters of pagan ceremonies chant my name

Hidden in old woods

As you will too,

When all is understood 

When your unexplored places, radiate in my visitations afterglow 

For, I'm the Above and Below 

The Great Harvest, that needs to be sowed, to be collected 

I see you at birth and feel your presence, 

Anywhere on Earth. 

 

So if you're hearing this and will soon know my name. 

Never feel rejected or neglected 

For I send blessings like soft raindrops to soothe your soul

From The Red Church pews

To light up your heart and to manifest, self belief within you 

As these few words are invoked with magic 

To bring relief through from this screen 

Whenever they are released 

By me 

Brigid, 

One of the Great Elementals

Always watching 

In the Great In-Between 

(C)

Copyright John Duffy 

Image shared under fair usage policy.

Brigid, in this case, is associated with the transformative nature of fire, poetry, and healing. 

The Lifebuoy

 

Foundation.

A piece based on work place infidelity.

The question is:

If you spend 8 to 10 hours, when you're feeling energetic with work colleagues, and 4 to 6 at home with your partner, when you're tired.

Do work colleagues slowly start being more attractive, and is that why many office workers break up?

Title.

The Lifebuoy

(A lone voice whispers)

Floating like a lonely lifebuoy

In a hurricane of raw emotional seas after work

That defied all known physics

A secret version of The Pacific 

When I was drowning in a New Stone Age 

Created by critics

In my version of the Mesolithic

With pain written and carved across my soul

In shed blood and tears

Like Egyptian hieroglyphics 

You once floated my way in the staff room 

And with soft tender lips and gentle eyes

You held me with tightened fingers as my lifebuoy

Kept us both afloat

You whispered hidden secrets to me

To help me cope

As I to you 

Mystery Schools

Would beg to hear

Stories

Hopes

Fears and dreams

As we both floated in that mythical sea

For what seemed forever

You and me

Clasped so tightly

Together

In that crazy weather

But deep below at work 

The great sharks

Were circling

My lifebuoy held

Strong

Though

Chained 

To the bottom

Of that rough sea

Your grip firm

But then one day

You slipped

A voice in the office 

Caught your eye

In the near distance

And in that instance

Wet with that sea

You floated away 

From me

Watching with saddened eyes when you packed up and left

As I floated by

I can still remember looking at you

On the crest of that huge Nazare wave

That suddenly appeared

And screaming inside 

Over that ocean

Of never-ending undulating emotions

But I now know after the passing of time 

Love given freely

When accepted in any known form

Should be cherished

No matter how long

Or wrong

With no guilt attached if it chooses to leave 

For in that moment when guilt or regrets appear as you greave

Always remember the magic of that old song

Love will come 

When you're ready

To start going steady 

Our song

That helped us float

Together 

In that brief moment

Forever

A sonnet

We both once heard

No matter how tragic

And if I remember, as you walked out of that door 

You smiled

Then disappeared 

Forever

When that old familiar fire of ours

In your eyes 

Died 

And I floated away

Alone

Just another

Bobbing red and white

Lifebuoy

Looking for another

To meld with

To reach

Me

In that secret version of The Pacific 

With memories of your fingertips and sweet smiles

Glorious stories

And all those magical things

That once created a love song

That now still plays

As it heals

Somewhere

Deep

Within me

I just hope Love will come 

Because now I'm nearly healed

I'll soon be ready to start going steady 

(C)

Copyright John Duffy

Image shared under fair usage policy