Saturninus

Truly a wonderful work of art. Reminded me in some ways of Song of Songs and of Saint John of the Cross...sublime!

Hi Fawzo! Never thought of it like that! What a neat spin. Shucks, now I almost feel guilty for intruding... Such is the wonder of words. We can each get something different from reading them. in blessing, bless Wayne

Hi Flower, Thanks for the compliment. I am glad that you found something in the words you liked. As for what metaphysical poetry is: The metaphysical poets were a loose group of British lyric poets of the 17th century, who shared an interest in metaphysical concerns and a common way of investigating them. The label "metaphysical" was given much later by Samuel Johnson in his Life of Cowley. These poets themselves did not form a school or start a movement; most of them did not even know or read each other. Their style was characterized by wit, subtle argumentations, "metaphysical conceits", and/or an unusual simile or metaphor such as in Andrew Marvell’s comparison of the soul with a drop of dew. Several metaphysical poets, especially John Donne, were influenced by neo-Platonism. One of the primary Platonic concepts found in metaphysical poetry is the idea that the perfection of beauty in the beloved acted as a remembrance of perfect beauty in the eternal realm. In a famous definition Georg Lukács, the Hungarian Marxist aesthetist, described the school's common trait of "looking beyond the palpable" and "attempting to erase one's own image from the mirror in front so that it should reflect the not-now and not-here" as foreshadowing existentialism (as quoted in The Aesthetics of Georg Lukács by B. Királyfalvi (1975)). SOURCE In blessing, bless Wayne

Hi Qyros, Thanks for the notes. No apologies necessary. I beleive that we each approach writing poetry individually to attempt a connection or re-connection to G*d, others and ourselves. Several years ago I wrote these lines: "I am a poet, I am supposed to get drunk rage and wallow in word-mud and feel like crap..." Of course I was going through a heavily influenced Bukowski period. Not very "spiritual" but it was honest. That is what I admire most about your words, Claire. You have authenticity. Whether or not we ever get paid with money for our writing, at least the dividends come in the form of integration. In blessing, Bless Wayne

My thanks and appreciation for the welcome, Flower! Not sure what you meant by interesting but my metaphysical poetry has been deemed less than "interesting." The fact that you have chosen to reply means more than words to me. in peace, i remain Wayne post script... there is a connection to the poem and my avatar. The connection has more to do with being open and honest than it has to do with nudity. But then that is the joy of metaphor.

RevRainbow, What passion. What pathos. Qyros noted the Shakespearean flow... Sonnet CXVI: Let me not to marriage of true minds admit impediments Let me not to the marriage of true minds Admit impediments. Love is not love Which alters when it alteration finds, Or bends with the remover to remove: O no! it is an ever-fixed mark That looks on tempests and is never shaken; It is the star to every wandering bark, Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken. Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks Within his bending sickle's compass come: Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks, But bears it out even to the edge of doom. If this be error and upon me proved, I never writ, nor no man ever loved. ________ Indeed, my unmet friend, your verse compares most admirably! in blessing, Bless Wayne

Candle i hold a candle as i walk through the darkness, i hear screams all around, of people who are in pain, people who are suffering, why don't i help them? as i walk through the darkness with my candle, i see others with a light. they gather around each other, ignoring the screams. won't they help the ones less blessed then them? i've had enough. i turn to the nearest scream. i said "come and walk with me and my light." a woman took my hand and my light grew brighter. as we walked through the darkness, the screams had gone faint, and a light broke through the darkness. we were going home. both naked, and unafraid. __________________ in peace, i remain Wayne

I wear black, combat boots and chains my hair coifed short like a Nazarene so close to my skull to appear insane. I adore sad music - dirge and lament darkness & tears swept up in holy desire. Yet, when hard times come, it is God who holds my hand. It is he that bids me peace. +++ When my blood flows, is it not as red as yours? When my heart breaks, is it not as sad? When my soul aches for freedom, does it not speak in a language you understand? I am no different than you. Why must you kill me with your words and fire and sword? Is our God too distant...or your life so bored? ________________ In peace, i remain Wayne

My pleasure...All for love - Love for all! Perhaps it was not that you "upset" anyone but rather that you gave us pause to think. For this we should be thankful. Too often, christians put on a mask of perfection...at least I have. God dwells in deep (thick) darkness as much as in unapproachable light. The dichotomy of this is one thing on an intellectual level but can be quite another on an experiential level. I am thankful that you have a safe place to vent yourself here. It makes me all the more willing to share. As a newbie - nothing could be more reassuring. Yours, in peace, i remain Wayne

Many thanks for your kindness! In blessing, Bless -Wayne above poem from TWILIGHT, A Collection of Poems in honor of Leonora Alice Wilkinson Sept 20, 1920-December 22, 1997. Published by Madman Express ©opyright 1998. _____________ Qyros, I offer this in hope that you too will explore the possibilty of publishing your words. Many small press publishers exist to promote little known authors. Once upon a time, I was editor -n- chief of Earspank, the first audio poetry magazine dedicated to underground poets and their words. That was in 1997-2000. Whilst I no longer publish said audio-tape journal, I do have a heart for the metaphysical poetry of writers. In blessing, Bless Wayne

...And the night will not come so soon to cover your face with her linen of light; the night will not come, or her dusk. I am smoke. -Manfred Winkler, from Sadness Moving closer toward unknown phantoms, unheard liturgies, unseen sunsets; The earth shakes - oceans melt; Steaming mountains shroud the moon. We disappear in vapor. Tomorrow has forgotten us. We fail to remember history's gifts or lessons. Clawing at redemption as phantoms gnaw at the gates. _________________

The dark night of the soul is real. So too is the dawn... This is the hour God loosens and empties. Rushing, consciousness comes unbidden, gasping, and memory, wisdom, grace. -Annie Dillard _________________ Qryos, Perhaps there is no balm that I can give, or medicine to cure your soul's ache. But if it is of any consolation I DO know your pain and struggle. While it may not be best for us to go into the sordid details, I want you to know that every spiritual leader from time immemorial has felt your struggle; St. John of the Cross & Mother Theresa come immediately to mind. And who could forget those words of Jesus from from the stake of crucifixion, "My God, my God, why have you forsaken me...?" He had only to rise three days later to know the ultimate provision of grace. Once upon a time, I subjected myself to service in the United States military. My constant prayer was that I kept waking up - tomorrow had to be better! Although I no longer subscribe to the doctrines of war, I continue to seek "awakening." If it helps, please find HERE a meditation squence by Michael Gore entitled Sitting in the Dark. It helped me through some very dark times. May it also benefit you. In blessing, Bless Wayne

Rev Joel, Grace and peace! All best with the ghost writing. I hope that you will pass along a link to where to get the book upon its publication. Please find below a few interesting excerpts and resources pertaining to your research: SOURCE Kersey Graves, in his seminal, and highly controversial book, THE WORLD'S SIXTEEN CRUCIFIED SAVIORS (available online HERE) has this to add: From Chapter 28: Annointing with Oil of Oriental Origin Wicca, the religion of nature and witch-craft, of necessity draws heavily upon those elemental correspondences that lend themselves to the healing arts. The anointing of altar appointments, including candles, athames, chalices, cauldrons & etc., along with the practitioner him/herself is standard ritual. Elemental correspondences regarding base oils, (animal or vegetable) colors, scents, and personal intentions - also known as sympathetic magic - each interrelate to create a desired effect. While the scientific applications of such practices have long been disputed, the overarching testimony of history has upheld Wicca's relevence to nature's medicinal faculties. We must weigh the evidence against the outcome. Does mandrake root cure impotence? Does willow bark vanquish a headache? Do the shells of shrimp or lobster counteract fat absorbtion in the human body? Or, is it faith in such remedies that gives them credence? SOURCE A Wiccaning Ritual similar to a baptismal or christening of a child/infant can be found HERE. I quote in part: From another forum addressing the indgenous practice of Hoodoo... _________________ In blessing, bless Wayne