Wednesday, 19 December 2012

New Poetry from Enlightening Times Contributors.

Rampant imaginations

Day dreams and sweet temptations.
Crazy ideas and rampant imaginations. 
Lost in a world of madness beyond ken.
While trying to master the art of living Zen.
Winter chills linger, yet the embers been stoked.
The scent of spring brings with it fresh hope.
Tending the tinder’s and keeping warm.
The tempest’s awake, prepare for a storm.
Lay bare, awaiting the new cycle.
Behaving perfectly archetypal.
On fire now, the flame invoked.
Enchanted roots like an Ancient Oak.
No brimstone needed for budding to begin.
As the miracle of creation comes from within.


Follow Your Compass 

How do you know, if it’s time to let go?

How can you tell, when you’re under a spell?

When the die’s been cast, and the cards are on the table.

Can you separate the fact’s from the fable?

Lost in a dream or going out of your mind.

Wondering if sometimes, it’s cruel to be kind.

When the bands playing so loudly, they lift the roof.

Will you be able to hear your own truth?

What if you can’t, how will you know?

When you’re at a crossroads,

With different ways to go.

Tentative and testing, taking your time.

Checking to see if heart and mind are aligned.

Dreams and dilemmas are part of this ride.

Where destiny’s never far from our side.

Make a decision, follow your heart.

You always know, right from the start.

You could resist, you could pretend.

But it’s only pain it causes in the end.

So why wait, use your inner compass.

It might just lead you somewhere tremendous.

©2014~All Rights Reserved Rashelle Reid







ADEO SALUS 
Adeo : to approach, visit, come to, undertake.
Salus : health, safety, well-being, salvation / salutation.

Gifted to the people, with a Golden Key.
From those who walked before us who gave so generously.
Sitting barren and deserted, with locks upon the doors.
No longer helping anyone with all their pain and sores.
Memories of the service aren't filled with joy and glee,
Dentistry more like torture and sex advice for free.
It doesn't seem to resonate, with the clues in full sight.
An Egyptian styled angel sits to the right,
Adeo Salus greets your eyes as  you look above the door.
Begging you to question the tales from old folklore.
Philanthropy was part of this magnificent town of ours,
Poets, Patterns, and Pride in some of our finest hours.
The snail case must have contributed to the culture of blame,
And when we think of the witches, many hold their head in shame.
With curiosity I wonder what else was lost,
When the libraries were looted and the bombs were dropped.
It seems some knew the secrets of the Saints and Sages,
The magic of the Alchemists passed throughout the ages.
It’s time for our town to rise now, like a phoenix from the flames.
Clear the debris from the bleak Heart, and let if flow again,
Community and compassion will shine again one more,
As we lead the way and show the shops the door.
Supporting local business, and working hand in hand.
Inspiring ripples sent across this sacred land.
Many have said and I know it to be true,
Our Salvation lies in nature and our well-being too.
Let us celebrate the river and stand upon the shore,
As we meet the divine by opening up the door.
Educate the citizens, let’s begin to make some noise,
Listen very closely, you will hear the children rejoice.
The truth is your communion and what you choose to do,
With all these blessed moments that are laid out in front of you.
Consumer chaos captured the hearts and minds,
Leaving classrooms and colleges far behind.
It seemed a trance had captured the whole nation.
Lost in the quest for instant gratification,
Failing to notice this moment of now,
We miss Mother Nature taking her bow.
We’ve cut off the source, directly at it’s Heart,
Built shops upon the river, known as the Cart.
The arteries are clogged and the wells run no more,
And maybe it’s time now to open up the shore.
The river is the life bringer, the waterways must flow,
As within so without that is how it goes.
Let the energy come back to life,
Welcome good times, say goodbye to strife.
I know there is investment, but who does it serve?
As once again the Council do a body swerve.
The green-belt will soon be as thin as string,
That’s if they decide to leave anything!
With purpose let’s sit together and see what we need,
And let our Council serve it’s people not get lost in the greed.
If each one of us, took some time to care.
There’d be thriving communities for us all to share.
Could the flame of the heart be reignited?
By discussions and ideas from those well cited.
Maybe a hub, with an alternative view,
Maintaining the focus, It’s all about you.
Healing, learning, debates all in one central space,
Co-creating together in divine grace.
From surviving to thriving, it’s easy you see.
When you change your thoughts from me to we.
©2013 copyright ~All Rights Reserved Rashelle Reid



Robbers: a poem (inspired by a recent dream)

Presenting themselves in clean skins,
The robbers travel from afar to take, treasure and lives,
Good and honest men and women – from a looking glass view –
Blinded by lenses forged in the cold darkness of polar thought.
The robbers preach an ancient thousands-years-old tapestry,
Now rewoven in intricate patterns of modern trickstering, laws,
Deciphered only by those who can see the newest incarnation preachers,
For who they really are: Conjurers of empty chalice and poisonous drink.

Clothed in deceit, the court jester, the robber leader, performs his best for the royal patrons,
Apparently unaware he in fact stands in the nude.
Ever convinced and confident of his sly dance – a delusions of grandeur high step –
Driven on by the whips of those who own him, a conductor in residence, the court jester parlays.
Bought and paid for from the windy city streets of his own inconsequence,
He sends out the good men and women, robbers, who’ve signed on,
To unwittingly rob those on the other side of the world (and at home, too),
Those who now live and die below a foreign, dirty bald eagle, its shadow threateningly undulating across a burnt earth.

Some of the robed men from their scorched homes promise to avenge the deaths – of their wives and of their mothers, of their fathers and of their sons and of their daughters – someone will pay, the dept.
But probably not the robbers themselves – no, probably the robbers will not, personally, pay.
(Nor will the court jester, their leader, pay.)
For they cannot be reached, safely fenced, in fact and in dogma.
Instead the robbers mount their remote thrones,
And watch the gamed world below unfold in tacit images of nothing that matters, to them.
For payment the robbers will be wined and dined in colorful ribbons of glory, pinned on chests, puffed,
Hearts and minds intoxicated by lies and indifference.
They are sad-false heroes who kill for what the puppet masters want, from the earth and from the people,
And to defend the mirage in which they themselves live: the illusion of freedom and democracy.
Thus the robbers crosshair those who get in the way and fight back;
They aim to extinct those who are likewise lost in the righteous wood,
¬– but who nonetheless have the right to fight, back, for the right of their voice, for the life of their choice –
While also killing those who just seem, a little suspicious,
Or those not even that, at all, “by accident.”

In the end the robber leaders will die, eventually,
Perhaps morally ill-equipped to face their torrid roles,
For that would require them accepting their lives were full of...
Nothing.
They will die old and comfortable in their white houses, on the hill, paid for by the riches of the billions,
Their messes left for their and your and my children,
To clean up.

Andrew R. Steele
http://www.mindfulemergence.blogspot.co.uk/2012/09/introduction_613.html





 
Concepts

Icy concepts thaw
in the warm glow of awareness.
Beads of water stream
down my bedroom window
revealing concrete and cars,
restoring my view of paradise.

John Ptacek 2012




 Love Each Other


Have you ever wondered how different life could be?
When you make the choice to live and be your full potentiality!
Letting go of hurts, anger, sadness, pain,
You will soon discover all the Gifts that do remain

Let me walk now with you, I will gently hold your hand.
And together we will help you truly understand.
Love is always the answer to the pain that you may feel.
Everything else is learned and simply isn’t real.
Forgiveness dissolves the past and brings Peace into your being
Compassion lights the way for any darkness you are seeing.

Living in the moment, the worries fall away
Tomorrows isn’t here yet and let’s forget yesterday
The past is over and done, let it go with ease,
Just like the leaves that fall and then are taken by the breeze.

You really are amazing, a creation made in Love,
You are worthy and you are beautiful and you are more than good enough.
No matter where you are right now the solution is the same
To love as much as possible and remember from where you came.

You are a Spiritual being, here to play and grow
And I'm sure you've heard the saying- We reap what we sow,
Give your love out freely in whatever form
it takes, make some room for Kindness and forgive any mistakes.
And soon you will come to know, as many have discovered
The reason we are here is to LOVE EACH OTHER.

Jan Ferguson, 2013


Alignment 2012
New Painting in the Webstore
  Looking Beyond...

Sometimes we look beyond,
And dream of what should be,
Forgetting that where we focus,
Is only what we see.

As we pine for nature in the concrete mess,
Our hearts get weary, our bodies stressed,
A simple shift is all it takes
To soften all heart-aches,

I am here before your eyes,
As the rain falls slowly from the skies,
And the tears run down your face,
I pray your heart feels my grace,

Your pain, it is clear to see,
Is that you've seperated you from me,
As the drops trickle down the pane,
Do you see the miracle of rain?

The cars, the buildings and all that is,
Is a symbol of eternal bliss.
Though man-made they're still divine,
As you and me are eternally entwined.
No matter how it looks, sweet friend,
I am here, there will be no end.
Together we arise, as once we fell,
Now its time for creating heaven not hell,

I mean for the many not for the few,
Cos just like me, they are part of you.
Forgiveness is the key you'll find,
To all the treasures deep inside.
With weeping hearts we all have seen,
What happens when men turn mean,
Now, it is time to celebrate,
As we journey to our divine fate.
Heaven on Earth for all to see,
Let's do it together, you and me.

Namaste'
Rashellle Reid, 2012
www.rashellereid.com