The Southern Belle

 

A poetic exploration on romantic longing, emotional stasis, and the way we protect love by housing it inside ourselves when it can’t survive in the real world.

Title.

The Southern Belle.

(A lone voice whispers)

There's a room inside my head all white. The purest color you've ever seen.

All white walls and ceilings—with fields of never-ending green.

Playing on loop is some deep southern blues.

While I wait for you.

The firewoman who once said, “Well, bless your heart.”

Whenever we fell apart.

(C)

Copyright John Duffy 

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Truth

 In a corrupt world, does only one thing start the changes in the paradigm?

It may change everything—but in a corrupt world, may it also leave you standing alone once it does?

Is that why modern whistleblowers choose anonymity?

Truth.

(A lone voice whispers)

Everything changes, and seeing you just brings it home.

But once the sword of Damocles falls, you could forever be left standing all alone.

(C) Copyright John Duffy 

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The Silver Fence

 

A poem not about getting back together but a poem about honoring what was, surviving what is, and wondering—gently—what might still be allowed.

Title.

The Silver Fence.

(A lone voice whispers)

Life without you is a strange thing.

It's like living divided by a silver electrified fence, and the fence runs deep into infinity and is uncrossable.

I live on one side, and you live on the other.

The fence has memories and mementos hanging on it, and every once in a while, when we feel brave, we climb to the fence to look.

Look, but don't touch. See, but leave be and climb back down to be swallowed up by our worlds.

Swallowed up until the next time we are feeling lonely and brave enough to return.

I really still miss you and think after all these years we could build a doorway in that silver fence.

A doorway that leaves us the option to cross over.

Cross over to perhaps say hello.

Put new mementos on show on the other side but simply to rebuild old bridges.

We may never be whole like before, but sometimes snow in April isn't everything. XXX

(C)

Copyright John Duffy 

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New Orleans Dreams

 

A poem exploring love magic—does the power lie in some ritual ceremonial candles or the heart lighting them?

Answers after reading, if you choose. Salute 

Title.

New Orleans Dreams.

(A lone voice whispers as the speaker writes in his journal.)

I went to see the Bayou Queen yesterday.

Deep in the Louisiana Mississippi Delta.

She bade me sit and began to say as nearby drums played.

“Boy, you got it in a bad way. These cards say that even the world's against your love this time around. 

But I feel your special one you've already found. So take these candles and just light one each day. 

And its smoke will carry your aura her way, so she can know and feel you when the nighttime crickets sing and the nighttime bats play.”

That was three weeks ago.

Each night after 9 pm, before I light a candle, I smell such a scent it drives my senses wild, and even my dog, Billy, barks.

Could it be her attracted to my aura through the Bayou Queens candles?

(C)

Copyright John Duffy 

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Concilium

 

An original symbolic and experimental piece that reads as a ritual invitation—part manifesto, part incantation.

Exploring the theme that words thrive on the subconscious or spiritual level—felt more than understood.

Where some poetry lives.

Not in heaven or hell but the human condition when stripped bare.

Title.

Concilium (L)

(A lone voice whispers)

You do know these low whispers of mine, which I channel to flow through inquisitive eyes—like yours.

Carry a deep glow and hum within them. Now that you've begun reading.

Invisible frequencies to light up the deepest recesses of your very soul like a bright new Star of Bethlehem.

To open Seen and Unseen doors.

With golden spiritual keys to enter the sweet center of my Great In-Between.

Using secret olde spells rearranged as simple stanzas > To enter some of the deepest, oldest, and newest mythical wells.

Knee-deep as time slowly dances and advances.

With some cleverly smiling or some chillingly rhyming. 

Created just so through the light and dark caverns of my soul—you can perambulate. 

Whenever I write > inviting you to open their luminous gates.

To just read on and be illuminated before the world burns, and it's too late to be recalibrated.

(C) Copyright John Duffy 

Concilium > Public meeting.

Life

 

Title.

Life

Inescapable 

This visceral thing we share

A thing of beauty

(C)

Copyright John Duffy 

# Senyru 

A lone voice whispers

 Have you ever felt the cold cut of Dolor? 

One of the inner circle high rollers who stands just below one of life's ultimate controllers.

Death.

(C)

Copyright John Duffy 

In Latin, dolor means pain, grief, sorrow, or heartache, a word stemming from the verb dolere (to feel pain) and used to describe physical or emotional suffering.

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Soul Symphony

 

Foundation.

Does Love not find you but summon you to the altar of your twin flame?

Title.

Soul Symphony. 

(A lone voice whispers)

Being with you is my heart and soul's total sacrifice. 

With your body as the blade and your mind as the sharp ceremonial knife.

Being with you is like exiting hell and smiling.

Reborn by a spell to worship a new ministry.

To build a huge pyre into infinity and burn old negativities trying to destroy our link to the divine Holy Trinity.

For being with you is all my soul will ever need beyond all probabilities.

For being with you brings me peace with your spiritual theories of relativity.

(C) 

Copyright John Duffy 

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That old red phone box.

 

I missed you today.

For all our happy times came rolling back like the Pacific Ocean.

Remembering how we first met. The funny first date when we spent hours talking in that old red phone box as it rained.

The parties and nights out.

It's strange how suddenly it all comes flooding back. Unexpected but always welcomed.

Typical of you, I guess.

Well, I hope you're happy. No more phone box dates!

I just thought I'd drop you a line or two.

Being friends is at least something, for it's better than losing you forever and having nothing. 

Drop me a line. 

Your forever friend from another lifetime.

All those priceless memories came back as I walked past the old phone box.

It's a strange world, but at least a small part of us together still lives.

(C) Copyright John Duffy 

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Relationships

 

In a world that praises independence, do we all sometimes forget how easily we can quickly fall apart

without someone standing beside us?

Relationships 

(A lone voice whispers)

By your side as one

We are unconquerable

Alone defeated

(C) Copyright 

John Duffy

Senyru 5/7/5

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