New Song NY

Here is one of my poems. any comments, critique?

This is one of my longer poems spawned in a peculiar state of mind….. Usually I do not follow strict rules when it comes to poetry. When the mood changes – so does the meter and the rhythm within a poem. I am not a friend of much rigidity, adherance to established rules. The same goes for punctuation.


The winter storm
With eerie sounds –
Though raging fierce outside
Can’t touch my cozy room
In darkness I sat
….Was trying to catch
The rays of the full moon.

It was her time
I felt her pull
I longed to see
Those shafts of lights….
Hidden all by racing clouds
Those beams of light
Cold – yellow – white.

Relaxed I thought……
My eyes closed shut….
Absorbing the music
Those warbled tones
So soothing the howling….
The long drawn hollow tune
Which penetrates my very soul
Obliviates my very room.

There are new currents, subtle, probing
Old images are fast eroding
The ways, the ordinary, so blindly trodden
Are moments suspended on an incline –
Like pearls strung up on an imaginary line.

I am the mummy with inlaid eyes
I penetrate that web of lies –
My bandages, the seals of time
Glued by my sins, the tears of mine
My eyes of polished, cloudy jade
Reflected not what they have forced to fade
But saw the closest that procession
Where mortal ones have no impression.

Faint outlines form, condense unaided
Released from far, some misty shore
The world around just faded
Was not the one I knew before.
I felt a drowsiness descending
There was no aspect worth defending….
Infinite, so clear and vast
A clear black void – what blissful peace
Engulfed my mind at last.

Serene the silence
Drifting thoughts……
Suspended like the globes in space
All at their own allotted pace
In silence through this vast …….
The images came drifting past.
Slowly floating they do come
A huge pulsating golden sun
Of brilliant blue its diamond core
And emanating from this source
A radiance not felt before…..
An all pervading, subtle force….
The color of a peculiar sound
Throughout that universe abound.

And more I saw, still to be due….
To pass before my window’s view
In this divine, eternal store
Where all – it seems – was there before.
One form approached, just down below
Moved up, then faded – left a glow
Then changed its course against the flow.
A hideous mask – what metamorphoses
With a demonic smile approaches
Freezes, piercing cold its cutting stare
– Besides some others glowing fair….
In scenes of blissful pleasure –
Some beyond all worldly measure –
Their trace I tried to fix – in vain
I saw them receding, causing pain.

I looked at old, forgotten graves –
Remembered golden islands far ……
Now long sunk beneath the waves
And travels to some unknown star.
Again I sailed the deep blue sees
Traversed steaming jungles
The wide fertile plains
And powerful kingdoms I knew –
Forgotten …..their names.

I saw the vast deserts, bleak and forbidden,
High mountain places where treasures are hidden
And once so great cities – now buried ruins
All muted remnants – of future – past, it seems
The places of worship, holy of old –
Desecrated structures of marble and gold
I have had an inkling of thing unexplained
Of powerful secrets misused and profaned –
Well hidden, somewhere concealed
To be at one time again revealed..

I learned of scenes and places
Alive in time and space
In which my soul is cast –
To which my self is bound……
The nature of the things that hound
And of the things that are…..
Of future, present, past.

What it all meant, I recognized
Throughout its endless journey
My soul, immortal, memorized
The changes in time and space,
The nature of the things as such…..
The things that come and go
The images that leave no trace.

It is a hard, enormous task
Of an afflicted soul to ask…
to heed that omnipresent warning
From the beginnings early morning
– Whatever the places, scenes and faces
Not attracted – they leave no traces…..
To NOT repeat that basic error
Which fills my soul with sadness, terror
That rules of this eternal game –
Through eons they have been the same –
Can not be bent, self-servingly restricted
If done, inviting suff’ring – self-inflicted.

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Wed, July 7 2010 » Poetry

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