Poetry – Internal Ramblings of Automatic Writing-Scribing Process

What Can I Say?

Gender bender, radical right.

Fortnight coming, out of sight!

Tumultuous times, mornings anew.

Filled with rapture, yet sensing doom!

Where am I now? Where will I be?

No recognition of truth, What do I see?

Askance is my vision, narrowing now!

To what is expected, why and how?

Wandering out, reigning in

Flamboyant and powerful, meek and dim!

Who is in charge? I do not know?

Amid the corruption, a pure driven flow.

Changing arranging, often mid flight.

Brilliant ideas, created at night.

Lost in first shadows,of the upcoming day

When the practical me, has nothing to say.

Possibilities

Surrounded by time and space

I do embrace what is to come

Yesterday is gone

Today is waning

Tomorrow is waiting

An empty canvas

Brush in hand

I create according to plan

A remembered vision

A subconscious thrust

Nudging me forward

In God I trust

The table is set

The guests arrive

Feeling their presence

I begin to scribe

Inwardly focussed

Outwardly bound

Pure potential I’ve found

Spirit Lies

Spirit lies beneath the wings of floating

thoughts engaged in turbulent travel.

Unresolved issues, spewing forth in

determined effort to engage oneself in

truth. Now engaged, it readies itself to

travel forth to meet the doom of old

beliefs. Rendering what once was to a new

understanding of self. Imposed analogy of

what is and what was and what is yet to be,

melding in the internal-eternal swirl of

who I once was and yet will always be.

Devoid of truth, I shall not know what is

perception and what is so. All is lost, yet

more is gained. Internal struggles subside

as I truly allow my center to guide. The

truth of me without the lie: no longer hidden

and buried inside. My spirit runs free

united in the oneness of me.

Unmatched

Forget tomorrow, remember today

Clashing moments, leading us astray

Engaged in fancies, oft not fulfilled

Lumbering forward, at an awkward tilt

Unmatched visions, separate missions

Discordant rhythms, lumber along

Wandering here, wondering why

Disengaged focus distractions abound

Futile attempts, not on firm ground

What? We ask, without reply

When? We question as time goes by

Who? We muster is in charge

Where? We search deep in side

Why? oh why does it seem so hard

To create symmetry as we move through time

Fluidity of movement on a single path

Where questions are answered based on trust

Being inwardly guided is a must


Source by Mary Ann Harrington

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