Burning Tree, On Wings, Thoughts, Ecce Deus....aaduna continues to celebrate National Poetry Month: Srivastava, Singleton, Lanier, Goodman! Day 9

The Invocation Of The Burning Tree…!

Fallen trees have no sound.
But a burning tree screams
O! Fiery ball, listen
Please, loose your anger down.
Pardon their deeds
Look, I am hammered and bleed
But they like a poor child
What If ; outlawed, corrupted and wild.
We should not be absent parents
Blindfold their innocents in ignorant room.
And expect them to rise
On the basis of dark and gloom.
They; tyro of the unknown land
Let’s unlock their unwitting
And mould them again
By our dab hand.
Because! Only their visionary eyes and sinless hands
Could be drenched the homeless tramp skies and cool the river dry.
Could repair the heating planet
And could brush green again the surface of droplets.

© 2017 Tamvi Gaurav Srivastava      
Vadodara, Gujavat, India   

Tamvi Gauray Srivastava (photo provided)


* * * 

On the Wings (Recovery – for Melissa)

One day – they say
Your eyes wide but slanted
A Modigliani mask                who laughed
And we do              walking.
Melissa, you see the light    touching the wings
Of the butterfly           stained glass and
Flutter           I see God
Is this all we want?
Denying Peter?
Three times, four times, five.
The furnace inside
Us bumps into life, we lit it with
The flutter of wings         beating their way inside
Our rib cages, going sideways to our hearts.
Feeling and seeing in that moment
A fluttering weakness, a willingness to stop
Our minds.  A running towards instead
Of away.
A glancing blow of our former selves
We laid chalk drawn            in the hallway and
Your restless sleep      turns towards the wall
The flowers eventually grow –
The butterfly is welcomed back into the spring. 

© 2016 Jennifer E. Singleton             
Corsicana, Texas

Jennifer E. Singleton (photo provided)

* * *

Thoughts Have Wings

Sitting here tonight thinking about you
the phone rings and it's you on the other end
you say I was just thinking about you
how have you been?
I say well I'm fine but it's kinda ironic
I was just thinking of you too
Well call it being telepathic, having clairvoyance
or even a sixth sense all in all it's the same thing
Thoughts Have Wings
somewhere there is a physic jet stream that
connects our souls and minds together in the
whole cosmic scheme of things because there
are no coincidences in life intuition is a powerful
thing through a fleeting submission or an astro dream
Thoughts Have Wings
And it's just like when somebody in the same
room as you suddenly speaks the same thing that
was going through your mind well it happens too
many times to be left to chance wouldn't you agree?
I swear it's like a paradox or some kinda divine
intervention I do believe
Well call it being telepathic, having clairvoyance
or even a sixth sense all in all it's the same thing
Thoughts Have Wings
somewhere there is a physic jet stream that
connects our souls and minds together in the
whole cosmic scheme of things because there
are no coincidences in life intuition is a powerful
thing through a fleeting submission or an astro dream
Thoughts Have Wings

© 2016 Bo Lanier                              
Harrison, Texas  

Bo Lanier (photo provided)


* * *

Ecce Deus Meus

God is the Name that cannot be named,
the sublime Paradox that we cannot resolve,
the awful Enigma
that we cannot solve.

God is the Sound that we can see,
the Sight that we can hear;
the Single Word that has a Double Meaning
as it enters into our ear.
God is the Shield
that may not protect,
the Mighty Warrior of Mercy
who forgives but will never forget.
His seal is Truth,
His name is Peace,
His judgment emerges
from the great deep.

God is the tremendous Strangeness
of our existence,
the glorious Lifeforce
behind human persistence.

God is the Leaven
in the universal Bread of ours,
God is the Love
which moves the sun and the other stars.

God is the Burning
that emblazons our eyes,
the Infinite Nothingness
that dapples the skies.

God is the Bush that burns
but is not consumed,
the Flower that wilts
and out of the Whirlwind blooms.

God is the Eternal Becommer, the Old One,
the Most Ancient Celebrity;
God is the darkest Black Hole
of Infinite Density;
The Highest of High,
Our Father in the Sky,
the Dark Energy whose dark matter expands ‘till He says

My still small Delusion
my great Grand Illusion
Our nuclear Energy
our sole source of fusion.

Atavistic Obsession—our collective
my Providence my Paradox my sole source of

God is the King of Infinite Space,
who guards my soul as I sleep
He raises me up
from the pit of the deep.

He protects me from bad dreams,
& walks with me
in His undiscovered country,
sheltering me with the skin
of the Leviathan
and His four-figured throne
flowing with milk and fire
& honey.

In His apple field orchard
He neither sleeps snores nor slumbers,
Guarding Solomon’s bed
with His warriors who are sixty in number.

Who lies me down to rest,
and the shackles of sleep from mine eyes doth unlock,
to see the sounds of the sparks from the Rock,
& restore sleeping sheep to the great Shepherd’s flock.

Who restores my soul to my body
when I awake with the sun,
to unify the Name
of the great holy One.

Who gives us the Book—the Instruction—
the supreme sacred Story,
Thank I Thou—great is Your faith,
and Your grandeur and glory.

Placed always before me
on high Full of Mercy,
who dwells in the firmaments
where man’s eye will ne’er see,

The Sight never Seen,
before Whom we are blind deaf and dumb,
the Sound that is Seen
in the great World to Come.

The Sound Seen at Sinai,
the Revealed One
in my eye—
Adonai Hu HaElohim!,
who said it’s enough!
oh my Lord oh my Sha-

because He is good and He saw it was good and
oh my Lord
Dios mío!,
Mein Gott oh
Mon Dieu oh good lord
mio Dio!,
my thousand-faced Hero
oh my God oh my

God is One—the Lord Alone—the Almighty All-Seeing who grounds all being
under Her celestial throne
with lightning and thunder;
the Commander, the Healer, the glorious Redeemer
who brings redemption to Her children
and tears Her foes asunder;
the Judge, the Sustainer, the Concern—the Creator,
who lays the foundations of the world
as Her terrestrial footstool
of tremendous amazement
and radical wonder;
the Contracting Presence who has Hidden Her indefinable Essence
to sow stored light for the righteous
and to give the wicked a room
and a place to blunder.

God is the Master of the World
who is the world’s Place,
blessed be He,
of short and long Face.  

God is the Mother, the Father,
the ultimate
my Sister, my Bride,
my long-suffering

God is Higgs Boson—my Husband—
my Baal my
my Ishi
my Master,
no longer ba’ali;
The spirited embodied never-embodied
Demiurge who hath created the cosmos
and all other things,
and we His fleeting dream
that dissolves into the Great Dream
of the living red King of All Kings.

God is the red Dew
for which we have bled,
the Shepherd to whose green long
meadow pastures we have (n)ever [yet] been led.
God is the Covenanter
for whom Otto’s red dew is shed,
the Wind and the Rain
that will revive the dead.

God is the Absurd Haunt
in the horrors of history.
God is the Transcendent, the Ultimate, the
Terrible Mystery.

© 2017 Daniel Ross Goodman          
Bronx, New York  

Daniel Ross Goodman (Photo provided)



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