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July 15, 2025 at 18:45 in reply to: The Cornucopia – Art, Music, Poems, Creative Stories, Myth, & Glory, 27.06.25 #61636
Dimitar
ParticipantHaiku Sequence
The Bottom of the Well
the parting gift;
a priceless jewel, to be
treasured or thrown awaythe wailing of the bells;
a blind knife thrower and
the woman who loves himalone in the frosty night,
the crying naked officer;
lost what he’d found againmoaning in the bottom
of the well; this longing
I have for you!around midnight,
a company of five deer
grazing on the lawnJuly 13, 2025 at 17:07 in reply to: The Cornucopia – Art, Music, Poems, Creative Stories, Myth, & Glory, 27.06.25 #61521ParticipantFire consumes
all in its path,
so too it is with love.After The Fire Came
I used to be rich,
But now I’m poor.
Fell from the cradle
Down to the floor.
I used to lie awake,
A prisoner of war;
Before the fire came
And evened the score.I used to be a king,
A man of great renown.
Waited on by servants,
Entertained by clowns.
Holding court for days
Deep in my compound,
Before the fire came,
And razed it to the ground.I used to be a hunter
Eager for the fray.
Never quite alive
Till the hunt was underway.
Lining up my trophies
Until that fateful day,
Before the fire came,
And I became the prey.I used to think I knew
All the ways of love.
Never showed my hand,
Kept it in my glove.
Always held my ground
When push it came to shove,
Before the fire came
And the eagle took the dove!Was it an hour
Or was it a day,
When that searing heat
Finally allayed?
Now, I’m marked to know
What words can never say,
After the fire came…
There simply is no way.14 07 2025
May 26, 2025 at 20:06 in reply to: The Cornucopia – Art, Music, Poems, Creative Stories, Myth, & Glory, 6.03.25 #58377ParticipantThe Road of Farewells
widow’s braid,
three feet and counting-
lopped off at the root!winter sea,
white waves breaking against black cliffs;
the road of farewellsflickering,
the last glimmer of a dying lamp;
the mortal selfthese last hours,
and everything that transpires;
a blank pagea living stillness,
watching the world as if from
a distant star…May 24, 2025 at 15:51 in reply to: The Cornucopia – Art, Music, Poems, Creative Stories, Myth, & Glory, 6.03.25 #58292ParticipantDear Sudhi, thank you so very much for your kindness. I’ve had very little time of late to devote to writing, but the image of the blind bird which came to me recently, was intriguing enough to stay with me until yesterday morning when these lines poured out of me, literally verbatim. That’s rare and special when it occurs.
the story of joy;
your kiss as it flew,
never to returnMay 23, 2025 at 18:01 in reply to: The Cornucopia – Art, Music, Poems, Creative Stories, Myth, & Glory, 6.03.25 #58241Participantwhen dawn breaks
and the sky clears,
the dust of the past rises,
then slowly falls away…The Blind Bird
Lo and behold, what do we have here?
A bird on a branch, and that, so near!
O’ bird, o’ bird, why do you not fear?
O’ bird, o’ bird, what brought you here?’Twas then the bird turned, and looked straight at me,
’Twas then that I realised the bird could not see!
And yet it did speak, and most eloquently,
With the strangest and most compelling melody!It sang for an hour, or was it day?
In a language unknown, from some land far away;
And all that it told and sought to convey,
Poured into my heart as it held me there, sway!Now, down through the years with that bird long gone,
I’ve come to understand the meaning of its song;
How when lightning struck and rendered it blind,
That creature had to leave the world behind!It had to uncover a new way to be,
It had to discover a new way to see.
How to move through this world, yet still remain free
To depend on its instincts and so foresee!It had had to rely on some deep inner sense,
It had had to avoid endless nonsense.
It had had to let go of past and future tense,
To dwell in the moment and never sit on the fence!Now at times throughout my mundane day,
Strains of that song with my senses do play;
Pulling at my heart, it says, “Don’t delay!”
It soothes my poor mind, my fears to allay!Sometimes I wake in the dead of black night,
And find myself back in that land of clear sight;
I shake off my sleep, and surrender my plight,
And in these bright moments… all things are made right!24 05 2025
April 27, 2025 at 06:45 in reply to: The Cornucopia – Art, Music, Poems, Creative Stories, Myth, & Glory, 6.03.25 #56648ParticipantHaiku Sequence
A Hundred Thousand Ways
what colour is the wind?
the wind is the colour of sky,
the colour of your eyes!tumultuous sea;
the River of Heaven
playing with my hearta rain of golden lace;
turning away from the memory
of a hopeless lovelate sunset;
a lonely figure returning
from a war now endedyoung moon;
a hundred thousand ways
to say I love you!27 04 2025
April 21, 2025 at 16:53 in reply to: The Cornucopia – Art, Music, Poems, Creative Stories, Myth, & Glory, 6.03.25 #56311Participantseeds quietly sown;
love leaves no trace
except upon the heartApril 19, 2025 at 18:32 in reply to: The Cornucopia – Art, Music, Poems, Creative Stories, Myth, & Glory, 6.03.25 #56165ParticipantThe Endless Journey
the dust of mortal man
fertilises the fields of earth,
but Soul lives on foreverthe most direct,
yet most fulfilling path
to the Kingdom of God is lovelove is holy and he
who receives it must return this
holy gift to all of lifewhoever seeks God
with a pure heart
shall find Himlove is the
beginning and ending
of all thingsSoul moves from ignorance
to the highest realisation of Godhe who ventures into the uncharted
regions of God finds it to be
an endless journeyApril 19, 2025 at 18:26 in reply to: The Cornucopia – Art, Music, Poems, Creative Stories, Myth, & Glory, 6.03.25 #56164ParticipantJacob Collier; “Little Blue”
April 17, 2025 at 11:14 in reply to: The Cornucopia – Art, Music, Poems, Creative Stories, Myth, & Glory, 6.03.25 #56063ParticipantThe Crow’s Lullaby
“Mother crow, mother crow, why do you squawk so?
There’s no mistaking your fear, your torment and woe,
As I walk on by, way down here below;
Mother crow, mother crow, why do you squawk so?”“Upon yonder mountain,” the mother crow sings;
“I’ve seven cute children, behold my old nest;
Good babies with big round eyes filled with zest,
Upon yonder mountain,” the mother crow sings.“My wings are worn ragged, my beak torn to shreds,
Seeking morsels in the shallows of the old river bed,
‘Neath the beech and the oak just to keep each one fed,
My wings are worn ragged, my beak torn to shreds!”“Ne’er a moment of rest or a sliver of peace.
If e’er I should find myself dispossessed,
Of the ones that I loved, of the ones I’ve been blessed;
Ne’er a moment of rest or a sliver of peace!What will I do when the raging storm breaks,
When the wild winds they blow, and the floodwaters churn?
Should my children be taken and never return;
What will I do when the raging storm breaks?And where will I go, how will I hide,
From the hawk on the high wind and the silent winged owl;
How will I protect them from hunters on the prowl,
Where will I go, and how will I hide?”“Upon yonder mountain,” the mother crow sings;
“My round eyed good babies all seven you’ll see,
You’ll then understand what it means to be me,
Upon yonder mountain!” the mother crow sings.“Mother crow, mother crow, how you squawk so,
There’s no mistaking your fear, your torment and woe.
I now understand, way down here below…
Mother crow, mother crow, why you squawk so!”18 04 2025
Based on “The Crow’s Lullaby” (or sometimes “Nanatsu no Ko”), a Japanese children’s song that tells the story of a mother crow’s concerns for her seven children.
March 26, 2025 at 19:19 in reply to: The Cornucopia – Art, Music, Poems, Creative Stories, Myth, & Glory, 6.03.25 #54669ParticipantThe Breath of God
the breath of God, should
It touch our dreams, begins
Soul’s transformationassembling Its destiny,
Soul walks on hallowed ground
each minute of the day!from endless possibilities;
Soul creates Its reality through living
Its wish fulfilledSoul must sacrifice
the state of self-interest, in order
to grow spirituallytrue humility
is a servant of God,
not of selfMarch 7, 2025 at 19:14 in reply to: The Cornucopia – Art, Music, Poems, Creative Stories, Myth, & Glory, 6.03.25 #53309ParticipantLove Song
Good news, beloved, I bring to thee,
Good news to make you glad;
May your mountains reach the clouds above,
Their misty peaks in rainbows clad.May your verdant forests cast their roots
Deep into the earth, my dear;
May no blade ever cut them down,
And may their shade spread far and near.May your crystal clear waters run deep, my love,
And may they never run dry!
May your waters that flow like blood through the land
Bring succour to earth and to sky.May your wings grow sturdy my dear sweetheart,
To carry you above the world of pain.
May they be strong enough to endure the sun
And the endless storms of wind and rain.May your white horse never stumble and fall,
May it bring you safely home to me;
May you never bow to the tyrant, love;
May your heart forever be free!March 6, 2025 at 15:26 in reply to: The Cornucopia – Art, Music, Poems, Creative Stories, Myth, & Glory, 6.03.25 #53235ParticipantWhen the Gods created man they looked for a place to put Soul, so that the outer
Man would not find It except through the toil of searching and growth. Finally, they put Soul in the heart of man, and ever since, man has been looking for, but not finding, the spark of God that he is.The Wars That You Wage
Can you hear, can you hear,
Can you hear the drums?
The tide of pestilence
Like fever spreads;
The Devil’s hosts
Spew forth like scum,
Their banners soaked
In the blood of the dead!What good is water
To the cup that’s full?
What good is light
To the eye that’s blind?
What good is wisdom
To the ear stuffed with wool?
What good is reason
To the cruel and unkind?That frozen waste breeds
Many a dark accord,
When the wine of violence
Makes drunkards of men;
For the memory of summer
Must first be restored,
Before the return
Of the winter wren.Look to thyself
When the soul’s lost to view,
For the giver of secrets
Speaks to the heart.
And when fate arrives
You’ll know what to do,
To accept in full
What you see now in part.And so tread lightly
Through plague stricken land,
Where every abscess must
Be cleaned, cut and drained.
For those in distress
Must come to understand,
That illness and disquiet
Are by themselves preordained…Can you hear, can you hear
Can you hear the drums?
Oceans will rise and
Mountains will fall!
The veil will be lifted
When the time comes,
And the wars that you wage
End once and for all.06 03 2025
March 6, 2025 at 15:23 in reply to: The Cornucopia – Art, Music, Poems, Creative Stories, Myth, & Glory, 6.03.25 #53234ParticipantHaiku Sequence
What is Life?
first frost;
brown wisps of grass peeking out
from behind a cedar fence postreaching heavenward;
white smoke from the chimney
of a distant farmhousetracing eternity;
tiny mice trails soon to disappear
under the snowsudden squeal of brakes –
the local schoolbus sliding
sideways on icea kitten startled
by its reflection in a mirror –
not yet a cat!afterward;
pale misty trails on tangled limbs,
the wandering moonMarch 4, 2025 at 21:20 in reply to: The Cornucopia – Art, Music, Poems, Creative Stories, Myth, & Glory, 29.11.24 #53148ParticipantYou and I
I am the scour
of the tide, you are my
masterpiece in progressI am the idea,
you are the ever seeking
but never finding tongueI am the flame,
you are the untempered
and wild madnessI am the goldsmith,
you are the malleable
and noble goldI am the song
unsung, you are the sweetly
singing birdI am the ocean,
you are the shore where time
and eternity meet! -
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