Image: Created by Perplexity inspired by “Seized by the Moment“
Seized by the Moment
The betrayer cannot hold,
Grasps you but an instant.
He traveled slowly through my eye
But now, finally, has quit
My field of vision.
His voice is a tree falling alone
Except for the other trees.
My memory is full of trees
Trees full of birds
Birds whose throats cannot get enough of singing.
I take it back: the betrayer is singing
Has a mighty snare
Has held me there
Thirty years:
My ears
Are Judas.
Image: Created by Grok inspired by “This Salt Sea“
This Salt Sea
Because my mother bore me, I navigate this salt sea
that pulsates under my skin, this blood sea the moon urges.
In the push and flow, I still my eyeballs
and listen to the ocean in my ears,
but I can never find the boundary they call skin.
I never know where I should end and you might begin:
I feel you are a wave and I am the sand.
Or you are a long strand of kelp and I am the forest.
Maybe you are a school of fish and I am the food they toss
from the glass-bottom boat.
Maybe I am a crab and you are a gull,
though I suspect you’re a shark—
but you’re probably just a slippery dolphin
whose language I wish I could learn.
Image: Created by Grok inspired by “River of Soul Love“
River of Soul Love
A saint hears her soul singing silence deep.
She listens and lusts no more for a man.
She hands her Divine Friend her heart to keep.
She sings glad hymns His Sacred love to reap—
Her heart rises above its human span.
A saint hears her soul singing silence deep.
Her eyes of devotion no longer weep—
She needs no mortal to complete her plan.
She hands her Divine Friend her heart to keep.
Her blood flames cool with the vow she does keep.
None can end what her Holy Friend began—
A saint hears her soul singing silence deep.
The river of soul love flows then to sweep
From her body all debris now to ban.
She hands her Divine Friend her heart to keep.
She rests in silence—is blissful in sleep.
She races and beats every clock that ran:
A saint hears her soul singing silence deep.
She hands her Divine Friend her heart to keep.
Image: Created by ChatGPT inspired by “A Raindrop in the Palm“
A Raindrop in the Palm
for Brother Achalananda
Before you became my polestar,
I was diverted by the one who boasts
Deep fish and salt-crusted waves.
The one who puffs our pride that all rivers
Rush to embrace his power.
I listened to the moist murmur
Of his promises of exoticisms,
As I sat close beside him on the beaches
Of Encinitas, Pensacola, and Virginia.
Oh! I stood dumbfounded at how big his waters were—
Without an inkling of your infinite vastness,
I could never have guessed
That he is much less than a raindrop
In the palm of your hand.
Image: Sesshu Style Painting – Enhanced by Grok (see below)
A Quiet Security
I wish I could feel peace as a warm glow
In the brain—
Fears falling away
Leaving no scars—
A quiet security that my soul is blessed.
I wish I could feel gentle pulse-beats—
Reminders of the Lord’s knocking
At the door of my heart—
Fears falling away
Leaving no scars—
A quiet security that my soul is blessed.
I wish I could fill my life with self-realized people—
People who are souls wearing bodies.
People whose fears have fallen away
Leaving no scars—
A quiet security that their souls are blessed.
Image: Created by ChatGPT
My Fleeting Dreams
My fleeting dreams do float through dark waters.
Mortal visions melt into deep silence.
My mind then cowers from earthly slaughters.
My heart beats hard in fearing violence.
Still, I wander from dream to starless dream.
I undergo birth and then death again.
My journey moves on through a storm-tossed stream—
I face meaningless bouts of grief and pain.
Yet my soul rests beneath Thy sacred wing.
Thy mercy shelters me from constant fright.
Thou bring’st me peace no fleeting dream can bring.
My soul grows bright in Thy flame of pure light.
Thou dost guard my life on this stormy sea.
Thou dost keep my soul forever with Thee.
Image: Created by ChatGPT, inspired by “Ready for Morning”
Ready for Morning
He stayed gently by me.
Wrapped me in his lush, dark arms.
Soothed my bones when they grew restless.
Brought me cool water when my head fevered,
When my tongue parched.
He whispered soft, sweet love,
Chased away intruders who would turn me out of bed.
And now I am ready for morning—
Night was a good lover.
He kissed away my sighs.
Played between my lips, between my breasts.
Worked all my instruments of lust.
Entered the orchard of desire
And plucked my fresh love fruit.
His body-less body was
A clean dome of skin-less skin.
And I am ready for morning
Because night was such a good lover,
Loving me all over my dreamless sleepless sleep.
Image: Literary Symbol
Symbols
—an innovative villanelle inspired by “Symbol”*
a variation on ”Poems to My Divine Beloved”
from Singing in Soul Silence: Voice of Faith
The things of mortal world are mere symbols
Whose meaning shines clear standing near
The Divine Creator’s love for souls.
They hint at divine essence in syllables.
Their sacred beginning becomes clear—
The things of mortal world are mere symbols.
Some thoughts seem harmful, others good as gold.
Angel care enjoys and dark devils fear
The Divine Creator’s love for souls.
Seeing with wakened eye, I take on new roles,
Moving in divine realms, unafraid, sincere—
The things of mortal world are mere symbols.
Divine Belovèd rings the bell that tolls
Calling my heart to repeat my new prayer
Of the Divine Creator’s love for souls.
Striving to achieve all my worthy goals,
I study all letters’ symbolic fare—
The things of mortal world are mere symbols
Of the Divine Creator’s love for souls.
*The original poem as it appeared in Singing in Soul Silence: Voice of Faith:
Symbol
a variation on “Poems to My Divine Beloved”
the things of this world hold so, but if
i think of them all as symbols of
my divine beloved’s love, they loosen their
choke-hold, they whisper that a sacred essence
is their source, a sacred essence permeates them,
how could they not?
getting used to sacredness, purity, divinity,
mystic health—just getting used to it
is the challenge, because for years i have
thought of things as harmful or helpful,
mostly harmful, good or bad, mostly bad
how could i not?
i want to experience the source of all things,
the one whom i have named my divine beloved—
love is everything, love is the reason for everything
i do that i really want to do, love is the reason for being
everything i am being, i am being for love, for my
divine beloved, god is my divine beloved, and all the things
of this world are symbols of his divine love.
Image: Sinners in Hell
One Sunday
—inspired by Jonathan Edwards’ “Sinners in the Hands of an Angry God”
I walked out as a sinner
In the hands of an angry God—
And the earth opened up before me
On my path to Church
And I could not keep my foot from
Slipping and slid down and down
And soon stood at the mouth of Hell.
And no one greeted me; nothing visited
Save ash, gray, dead ash. No sighing pagan,
No river, no whirlwind lovers,
No brimstone—all was equal
Ash.
And as soon as I questioned—
What goes with me now, my God?—
I was answered: You are My Image,
My Child, sinner though you think yourself.
Cast your flaws upon the grate
And watch as I cast the fire
That licks them to ash.
I then saw my impediments form bold lettering
On the grate—Greed, Lust, Jealousy, Sloth—
And flames did engulf them.
And a Voice spoke to my Soul: Gaze on this
Dark pit and know that here sins are burned,
Not sinners.
Sins become ash. Sinners become saints
In time in Love with Me.
And thus assured I rose to sunlight again
And standing in the path
That leads to the Congregation
Turned my steps home where I sought
My closet, seated myself in solitude
And prayed for the first time with a clean heart.
Image: Linda – Mother Center – 2018 – Photo by Ron Grimes
Little Songs from My Soul
—inspired by Paramahansa Yogananda’s “Consecration”
I come now to bring to Thee
little songs from my soul
growing from my quiet hours
blooming in Thy silence.
I wandered—lost but listening.
These little songs
I have heard Thee whispering
to the joy of my heart.
They are yet so humble
even as I have fashioned them
together in a boutique of love
to offer Thee who is love itself.
My head I give to Thee.
My hands I reach to Thee.
My heart I offer to Thee.
My voice I bestow on Thee.
Though Thou dost already
own all that I am,
all that I ever could be,
I surrender all to Thee.
In these little soul songs
my soul sings only to Thee,
my mind swims only in Thee—
Receive! Receive!
Linda's Literary Home 