Need inspiration?

 

A poem reflecting on time, ageing, resting, and above all, resilience.

Themes denied to so many.

Occasionally, you can try to do too much.

Title.

Need inspiration?

(A lone voice whispers)

You all know the game.

It's within your power to have an hour.

Be proud to feel old, a fate denied to so many: but never fold. 

Recover, then step back into the cold.

(C)

Copyright John Duffy

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#A poem reflecting on time, ageing, resting, and above all, resilience.

Themes denied to so many.

Occasionally, you can try to do too much.

Title.

Need inspiration?

(A lone voice whispers)

You all know the game.

It's within your power to have an hour.

Be proud to feel old, a fate denied to so many: but never fold. 

Recover, then step back into the cold.

(C)

Copyright John Duffy

Image shared under fair usage policy.  

Do you like reading deeply spiritual and mystical poetry?

 Do you like reading deeply spiritual and mystical poetry?

With imagery evoking heritage, supernatural guidance, and a longing for a much-needed destiny? 

Then read on about the dreams of, Miss Applegate, while living in Hades. 

(Hades in this case represents living in a state of high emotional turmoil. Maybe you know the feeling? Salute)

Rêves de Miss Applegate

(Dreams of Miss Applegate)

(A female voice whispers)

I can still see her 

Old Marie Laveau

Dressed in motherly blue 

I can't pretend

In my grandma's old passed down scrying mirror

Looking back 

And smiling 

Summoned to haunt me 

From when I visited 

Big Mama Aurelia

Somewhere out on the water village of the Grand Bayou

For she announced the end of me being single

And a time and place of happiness, I still cannot see, where I'll mingle

A time when the Great Kamadeva will walk in 

Like a proud Captain Jake, and tempt me to sin

In new where's and how's, the what if's and so's

So, sometimes I stand dressed in my Mama's old white wedding dress

Looking in my long black and gold mirror, pleading to know my fate

To save this damsel in distress

In what year, month, or day, will she come see me? 

Before each winter's year ending snow, and whisper

This year, the waiting ends, Josefina

So I can celebrate the overthrow of yet another phase of living in Hades

But until then, I'll just go back to masquerading on my life's only solo holy mission

On my heart's beating crusade 

Looking for true love, before I too like, Old Marie Laveau, fade away

(C)

Copyright John Duffy

Kamadeva is the god of human love and passion, who is known to awaken carnal desires among humans.

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Are you a Newbie?

 

Are you a newbie?

(A lone voice whispers)

Have you transitioned from silence or hesitation towards bold, authentic, courageous communication?

After you realized language isn't just a tool for casual conversations, but a beautiful divine means of self-expression, while one undergoes some spiritual rehabilitation?

Are you or have you felt like a Newbie?

Someone who was once walking through the complex strands of intricate language by the Alphabet Sea

And found the courage to express themselves for others and them to see, while reducing their soul's baggage 

Risking all to talk raw, in front of all, and stand tall

As you found your old self slowly retreating as your new more confident self, started communicating 

And now, with reflection, you sometimes wonder

How could I have ever lived that awkward life of always sitting watching other rebels, on the author or poetry shelf, write?

While keeping myself, to myself, in the middle of any given night?

(C)

Copyright John Duffy 

     

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The Voice of Eli

A layered poem of spiritual meditation. 

Recognizing the subtle winds that guide or shape us, even when unseen.

Reflecting how sometimes, words and memories, can be spiritual lifelines, preserving connection beyond the physical.

Reminding us to stay in an inner fight to stay spiritually alive, in a world that can feel spiritually barren.

And to approach whatever prayer you use not just as ritual, like so many other but as a sacred, personal invocation for peace and strength.

And finally to embrace cycles of spiritual change and letting go.

Good or bad, and then understanding how they can bring renewal and a new sacred presence.

The Autumn leaves represents a transaction of emotional states. Like Autumn to Winter.

Salute.

The Voice of Eli

(A lone voice whispers)

Like an army of unseen thieves

Wearing invisible black and red threads of divinity

You may steal

These words

As they are read in your head into infinity

To remember old times of beloved memories of us

The undead

You have my now declared permission 

So go ahead like an army of invisible thieves

Wearing black and red threads of divinity

 

Fighting

Mentally

To stay alive

While living amongst

The living dead

Use these sacred words

As your literacy

Your Godhead

Recite after me

Silently

O Sancte!

Da mihi pacem et libera me a tenebris!

Da mihi vim resistendi temptationi!

In nomine tuo omnipotenti!

Amen 

So they may fall like Autumn leaves 

All around 

The sacred grounds 

Where you may sit or stand

And forever stay

As your beating band

Still plays

(C)

Copyright John Duffy

Translation: 

Oh Holy One!

Give me peace and free me from darkness!

Give me the strength to resist temptation!

In your almighty name!

Amen
 

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The letter on the fireplace

 Do you like mysticism, anxiety, atmospheric rich imagery, layered within mythological meanings?

A bending of surrealism, personal confession, and fantastical imagery of obsession?

Then this could be for you.

Salute.

Title.

The letter on the fireplace 

(A lone voice whispers)

As if cursed by the son of perdition

As I go about my final solo mission to gain admission 

With Aphrodite's dead ringer, who whispers songs of exquisite rendition

A window opened and a lone green arrow from Eros bow struck, that drew gasps from the angels watching

In the midnight sky 

I breathed in a sweet aroma and passion filled scent like pure oxygen 

And felt like a king

Like King Solomon 

I felt an aura and my soul was captured like a moth is attracted to a flame

So now all dark nights appear so long and so black

As the shadow people murmur and whisper my name 

For they all know

Way back to Quekith, I have been changed by someone so radical

As I entered the fifth dimension by finding a love so sacred and magical

But that's the magic of the fantastical

For as the winds seduce trees by subtle caresses 

As the world wakes in a new spring and new life begins

I write this before I go to The Hidden Forest

Where the White Ash trees stand in neat rows like prizes at a country fair 

Where green ivy hides the entrance to her lair as it grows, and other slaves play music on demand, while chained to metal stands

With the smell of Frankincense incense on patrol in the electricity filled air

Ready to invade lungs and take control

It's ten to two as I write this in the morning, and I have to appear there at four

So if I don't come back I leave this for you to know I'm fine

Keep the house 

The car, money and all my collection of vintage red wine 

For I go to a new place where fear no longer exists and have to be on time 

A place, I hope, welcomes me in

Just pray for me that I don't lose my soul and become another flesh slave, chained to a metal stand 

Playing music on demand 

Another prisoner trapped forever in her cave

As she sits on her golden throne singing with her crimson red lips

You're now mine

Now get in line

Your time will come to play

For now, you're caught 

And can no longer run away 

For you're just another familiar 

One in a trillion, 

No longer a civilian 

All this I know for a German call Schiller

Told me over the internet

Told me to come

Told me I'd be a member of a wolf pack serving a queen in The Great In-Between 

So here I am

Pray for me 

Ma xxx

Forever yours,

Your loving son.

Jimmie.

(C)

Copyright John Duffy 

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Ephemeral

 

Upon reflection, have you had a bittersweet experience of a powerful, brief connection?

Something so intense, meaningful, but ultimately temporary, that still left a lasting impression?

Impressions of sublime moments that burnt brightly and then suddenly disappeared.

Leaving behind only grief intermixed with happiness and reflection.

Title.

Ephemeral

(A lone voice whispers)

I met you like the thunderous rain meets wet leaves

Fast and so unexpectedly, that the rain grieves when it leaves

For soon nothing will remain when the sun comes out again

(C)

Copyright John Duffy 

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The Calling

 

A poem that reflects the pathway of a life that could have been shaped differently, and yet still, after all these years, holds a spark of new possibilities.

Reminding us at the core that courage and new connections can still matter at any stage in life, and that love can reach us even near the end. 

Instead of being a poem of pure regrets, it offers a bright, and tender invitation.

Salute

Title.

The Calling

(A lone voice whispers)

In a deep dream,

I once heard a whispered call

It came so softly 

Vibrating and crawling all over my inner walls

It said boy

Stand up tall

Be courageous 

Throw away all of your life's toys and climb over all your life's many walls

But I thought it was but a dream and did nothing at all

And now at ninety-eight

All alone 

I'm still haunted by this soft call

Of

Boy 

Boy

Remember, 

Throw out your last toy

For at 98 

It's still not too late

We've still got a chance

To climb over that last wall

And together

Hand in hand

 Into eternity 

We can still dance

If you can still hear this call 

(C)

Copyright John Duffy

Image shared under fair usage polA poem that reflects the pathway of a life that could have been shaped differently, and yet still, after all these years, holds a spark of new possibilities.

Reminding us at the core that courage and new connections can still matter at any stage in life, and that love can reach us even near the end. 

Instead of being a poem of pure regrets, it offers a bright, and tender invitation.

Salute

Title.

The Calling

(A lone voice whispers)

In a deep dream,

I once heard a whispered call

It came so softly 

Vibrating and crawling all over my inner walls

It said boy

Stand up tall

Be courageous 

Throw away all of your life's toys and climb over all your life's many walls

But I thought it was but a dream and did nothing at all

And now at ninety-eight

All alone 

I'm still haunted by this soft call

Of

Boy 

Boy

Remember, 

Throw out your last toy

For at 98 

It's still not too late

We've still got a chance

To climb over that last wall

And together

Hand in hand

 Into eternity 

We can still dance

If you can still hear this call 

(C)

Copyright John Duffy

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Are you a member of The Midnight Losers Club?

 

A piece evoking heartbreak, initiation, and resilience through friendship. 

Relating to a club which may not exist in the literal sense, but exists in the spiritual.

A club for those who have felt broken, but lifted by others who have probably been through the same rituals linked to heartbreak.

Title.

Are you a member of The Midnight Losers Club?

(A lone voice whispers) 

I joined last night

Went through the initiation 

Got my heart broken in two

Took proof

Showed them all on the big screen 

A picture of my ex-husband smiling as I stood crying

Now I wear the secret brand under my right sleeve in French.

Une fois brisés, nous nous relevons grâce à l'amitié

Car nous sommes membres du Midnight Losers Club 

(Once broken but we rise through friendship 

For we are members of The Midnight Losers Club) 

(C) Copyright John Duffy

  

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The Visitor from Hiranyaloka

 

Do you want to take a ride on a surreal and spiritual exploration of otherworldly travel — not just through physical space, but through spiritual dimensions, dreams, and consciousness?

To a strange planet where life goes on?

Title 

The Visitor from Hiranyaloka.

(A lone voice whispers)

Within the Witching Hour 

Of twelve to four am

In the Great In-Between

I've seen

Universes

Parallel worlds

Places

Where no living human beings have never been

Climbed through blue portals

To strange lands where angels and demons 

In choirs 

Sing

Walked lands

Where no water runs in rivers or springs

Walked the badlands of the forsaken 

Climbed the high towers of the iron maiden

Saw tomorrow's prophecies 

Before I awakened

But I was never alone

Faith in the Lord

Kept me safe

In The Badlands 

Beyond the Tomb

From being drawn at dusk

To been released at dawn

To explore

To revel in new sights

Past midnight 

Is a mystery which binds me still

From Araganto

To Mulavanto

The red cliffs of the Ugato Mountains

From the twin suns of Sirius 

Bathed in autumn gold

Underneath lightning filled skies 

So now

I know an old secret

One for you to read as you pass me by

The dead don't die

They just live

Underneath 

Purple clouds

In another shimmering never-ending sky

(C)

Copyright John Duffy 

Hiranyaloka:

The Illumined Astral Planet.

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Giuseppe's Letter to Sophia.

 Do you like reading deep into a calling for truth, a mutual exploration of existentialism more profound questions, and closeness?

Within an invitation to meet—physically, emotionally, and spiritually—in a place of honesty, wonder, and romantic mystery filled with mythical possibility?

Then read on.

Title.

Giuseppe's Letter to Sophia.

 (A lone voice whispers as it reads the letter for you)

Would you meet me at midnight? 

Amore Mio 

In the Green Forests of The Great In-Between

If l lit a fire to guide you after I invited you 

To sit and just talk about all The Mysteries of Life, over ice 

Like The Trinity of Happiness, Sadness, and Madness

The three things involved in all things 

Things that could then turn into something that could be so nice

And then to count the flashing stars, shimmering from afar

While listening to real Country Music, played on real guitars not the new music played by AI

An extension of the fallen Morning Star 

For within this invitation, to Night of a Thousand Stars, in sight

Our first topic of conversation would be that night 

As we looked at Heaven's Endless Door, with wonder

Does true love even exist and live for evermore 

And is there a chance for us, my Amore Mio 

To walk upon its heavenly shore

(C)

Copyright John Duffy 

Amore Mio: Italian for my love.

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