Put Away Childish Things

March 8, 2018  :: 0 comments

Put away childish things
yet keep the childlike wonder.
Though dreams be rent asunder
our wishes still have wings.

Put away childish speech
but not the constant queries
that question rooted theories
which reason cannot reach.

Put away childish ken,
though artless ways of seeing
in any age of being
will find a poet’s pen.

Put away childish thought
yet not imagination
which sparks our inspiration
beyond what we are taught.

Put away childish things
but follow deepest desires.
Those secret innermost fires
burn brighter as hope sings.

Put away childish whim
yet not delight in playing,
then when the world’s dismaying,
our days won’t seem so grim.

Put away childish fears.
Nonetheless, through thick and thin
hang on to the child within,
the laughter and the tears,

all the livelong years…

Put away childish things.
While our dusty death is nigh,
the utter self shall not die,
and karmic kismet clings.

Put away childish things,
though then in mirror darkly
we face our image starkly,
plus suffer destined slings.

Put away childish pain
yet not sensations tender
for sunset’s golden splendor
or soothing thrum of rain,

therein the simple joys remain…
Nor questing spirit ever lose,
while on the pathway that we choose,
neither from love refrain

which makes a heaven of earth’s domain.

Still, throughout, with faith unshaken,
seek enlightenment to waken,
thus the bliss supreme to gain,
plus not to live and die in vain…

Put away childish things
but hold to yearning youthful
to grasp the learning truthful
which timeless wisdom brings.

Put away childish things,
and embrace the peerless state
of illumined grace innate
wherefrom great fortune springs!

editors note:

Heed these words, then need not wait to have illumined grace innate. – mh clay

Asleep No More

featured in the poetry forum March 8, 2018  :: 0 comments

The dawning day is like an open door
for voyagers adrift in living stream
to waken from the dream asleep no more.

When out of slumber’s seas we’re cast ashore
and consciousness resumes its heady beam,
the dawning day is like an open door.

With dialectic feet upon the floor
the thinker frames a philosophic scheme
in lieu of wakening asleep no more.

Stargazers, poets, let their fancies soar
into the realms beyond what things may seem,
for dawning day is like an open door.

Though myriads divinities implore,
within our being lies the path supreme
to reach awakenment asleep no more.

Deep wisdom handed down from ages yore
can teach us of enlightenment’s true gleam.
The dawning day is like an open door
to waken from the dream asleep no more.

editors note:

Within our being, yes! Awake to this. (Read another mad missive from Harley on her page today, more words for the wise – check it out!) – mh clay

Dark Matter Matters

January 20, 2018  :: 0 comments

Dark matter seems to be what isn’t there to be seen in between what we see. They dub it dark since you cannot detect it, nor can they inspect it with telescopy. Yet, while it can’t be descried, it cannot be denied for equations that irk to work. Should dark matter matter, would dark matter matter a titter or twitter, …

Celestial Angel

featured in the poetry forum December 26, 2017  :: 0 comments

An angel we have seen on high
sweetly watching o’er the skies,
guardian spirit, floating nigh
where the swan-like Cygnus lies.

Bright above it, starlight’s shining.
Dark the cloud beneath its glow.
What the tidings it’s divining,
be they gladsome, full of woe?

About two thousand light-years far
that nebula emission,
where budding astral newborns are
which bloom into fruition,

labeled S One O Six in brief,
has assumed an hourglass guise
shown in this cosmic leitmotif
as heavenly being wise.

Some sense an epic narrative
of verse macaronic toned
with golden rule imperative
that’s for centuries been honed.

Bluish wings like those in snowscape
fashioned on the winter ground
mimic figure in Van Gogh-scape,
after Rembrandt model, crowned,

blown from winds at center stellar
into that iconic shape
for a yuletide storyteller
to leave listeners agape.

Hot gas in ripples and ridges
with cooler milieu combines
as bipolar jetted bridges
sculpt the ethereal lines.

A frenzy of fervid motion
belies its facade serene
like turbulence on an ocean
in seemingly placid scene.

Man has blundered from war to war
blind to future, deaf to past
seeking deities to implore
somewhere midst the cosmos vast.

In these distempered times we know—
as did Sappho long ago
invoke a goddess, from below—
when fortune’s winds falsely blow

let’s urge that angel visitant—
Venus in her ageless rhyme—
to come in pity vigilant,
a needful presence sublime,

thus to animate stargazers
regardless of the season
to be inner space trailblazers
through cause, effect, and reason,

plus to tap the enlightened state
from where true wisdom’s springing,
creating beatific fate,
limned in that angel winging.

Then shall grand sidereal choirs
serenade in countless throngs
caroling forth our hearts’ desires
with a jubilee of songs

and help awaken hope’s rebirth
for everlasting peace on earth!

editors note:

On this holy day after, in echoes of merry laughter; for us, who jaded are, a hopeful verse from distant stars. (Another ekphrastic piece from Harley – see the image here.) – mh clay

A Stellar Fingerprint

featured in the poetry forum November 26, 2017  :: 0 comments

Its fingerprint of astral trace
singles out sidereal face
amongst the heavenly array
of stellar orbs in star ballet
that dance in metamorphous space.

The light dispersals limn with grace
celestial body in its place
for earthly mortals, to portray
its fingerprint.

Yet nature’s flux persists in pace,
as death takes all in vast embrace
despite what star one’s cast to play,
plus humankind will fade away
and time shall by and by erase
its fingerprint…

editors note:

A new spin on, “Which star will play you in the story of your life?” (This rondeau is also ekphrastic; Harley’s response to this NASA pic.)- mh clay

M-Theory Musings

October 21, 2017  :: 0 comments

What theory unifies forces, weak, strong, with gravity— also, to which belong all the string theories of why and because? To answer these queries, M-theory does. Proponents aver it offers clarity as to the issue of singularity. Where there’s a will there’s a way, so they say… In the beginning our universe sprang from membranes colliding to cause a Big …

A Friend in Need

featured in the poetry forum September 29, 2017  :: 0 comments

A friend in a pinch is seldom a cinch
to be found in a world uncaring.
Some might offer aid, then want to be paid,
with an attitude overbearing.

Friends made from the heart will never depart
though the way may be rough and tumble.
They stay at your side through a rocky ride
to help you go on if you stumble.

When myriad woes attack you like foes
or obstacles rise up in doubles,
those loyal appear to assuage your fear
and bolster your spirits in troubles.

Once it’s clear to you that a friend is true,
you possess a most precious treasure,
with rewards that grow far more than you know
or a jeweler’s loupe could measure.

If you’re tempest-tossed and find yourself lost,
shy of courage to make you bolder,
or your cherished hopes fly out of your scopes,
you can lean awhile on their shoulder.

Whatever the rhyme or reason or time,
by silent accord in friendship’s creed,
true friends will be there, your fortunes to share.
A friend in need is a friend in deed.

Aye, friends of this sort are a special breed.
A friend in need is a friend indeed!

editors note:

In light of recent disasters, we’re thankful to see so many of these lending hands (and so much more) to those in need. (Read more veritas verse on Harley’s page.) – mh clay

Guilt will Wilt the Sweetest Flower

September 29, 2017  :: 0 comments

Guilt will wilt the sweetest flower,
Cause the very sun to glower,
Though the skies their tears may shower.
Guilt will wilt the sweetest flower.

Shame will tame the lion’s power,
Make the boldest warrior cower,
Turn the taste of triumph sour.
Guilt will wilt the sweetest flower.

For each mister, miss, or madam,
Son or lover— this is so.
In the Bible Eve and Adam
Did discover long ago…

That guilt will wilt the sweetest flower,
Steal the pleasure from the hour,
Even in the greenest bower—
Guilt will wilt the sweetest flower.


Note: Poem/Song Lyric ~ written in the 1980s for Harley’s version of “East of the Sun and West of the Moon”

editors note:

For an extra treat, listen to Harley’s rendition of this in song here. Check it out! – mh clay

Charcoal Gray – and other passages from The Autobiography of a Granada Cat – As told to Harley White

July 29, 2017  :: 3 comments

photo “Charcoal Gray” (above) by Kirk W. Wangensteen Mark Twain asserted unequivocally, “If a man could be crossed with the cat, it would improve the man but deteriorate the cat.”—no comment from me. And there’s another by him, which expresses sentiments my lady embraced: “A home without a cat, and a well-fed, well-petted and properly revered cat, may be a …

Empyreal Rondeau

featured in the poetry forum July 27, 2017  :: 0 comments

In ghostly skies a stellar glow
from erstwhile stars of long ago
that shone with splendor ere they died,
perchance were wished on starry-eyed,
still haunts in heavens’ spectral show.

We gaze with wonder from below,
amidst our scurries to and fro,
at panoramas mythified
in ghostly skies.

The winds of fame and fortune blow
with sound and fury fiercely, though
our life be ebbing like the tide;
for death o’er all shall yet preside,
unfathomed as the cosmic flow
in ghostly skies…

editors note:

Wishing still, wishing ever… – mh clay