Hi!   for what it's worth: the following poems are all set according to an earlier convention, with fixed metre and strict rhyming. For example, the first is decasyllabic with "paired-sequential" rhyming, the second tetradecasyllabic with "paired-alternate" rhyming, and so on. Of course, this is not necessary, as demonstrated in modern and even old prosaic poetry, but is only a preference.

I think poetry is a quintessentially human non-literal device to express the nonlinearity and self-referentiality encountered as we leave the familiar shores of the inner edge of the Mind, which spans the at first seemingly all too solid but upon inspection increasingly tenuous physical phenomenal world, for the farther-away shores of Mind's outer edge, which spans the at first foamlike and misty but upon introspection increasingly clearer noumenal world, from which "words return unsuccessful, the mind baffled".

Ode to a Tree

Peering through the intangible water
Of my Mind at th' holographic picture
Impinging upon my undefined sight
What colours I sense in Consciousness's flight!
Pray, tell me, you tree friend, by what secret,
Unsuspected force conveyed, this sacred
Possibility of your green, tranquil
Vision is afforded, to my eyes' thrill?

Hail to your mild sways of mystic dance,
And lilting, cool breeze as if of trance,
How shall I describe this cathartic glee
That you inspire in me, O fan-like tree?
Your giant arms that negotiate wide Space,
Instill streaks of joy that course without trace,
And furnish a faint clue to the Timeless,
To that inner Mind, the void of Stillness.

The Island

Yeah, thoughts illuminate and feelings colour my wee world,
Where forms quiver, move; sounds & senses prowl as in a dream;
Thrills & pleasures bubble up; pains, too; but upon my word,
The strong'st feelings touch me limply, as light in foams' gleam.

From the lotus isle of my individuality,
Thought-petals steeped in an incomprehensible adventure
Called human life, ever yearning for that serenity,
I grope and grope in a brook of quiescent flux & nurture.

We ought not to exist, to wit; yet strangely we embrace
Our personalities as our inmost inter-diff'rence.
Each passing second is a miracle; in my Mind's Space
This whole world, and any others, but stains-- small impressions!

My own ego! Who are you? --pray tell me. I know you not;
Yet time & 'gain I must infer your being from my actions.
You arose from Eternity -- a li'l temporal knot
From far beyond -- yet struggle caught among body-stations.

Wonderful imperfection within unborn Perfection!
In the depths of Pure Awareness, a crystallization!
Dissolve, dissolve now to Nothing! Your need is past, by Grace.
Fleeting Island in Time! Island in inexistent Space!

VASUDEVA

Cast in alone amidst the turbulent ocean of countless souls,
I explored the desolate fields, many a restless sea and cape,
And quiescent plains, deep valleys, very lofty peaks and broad knolls,
Of the spacious, secret and awesome domains of the mind's landscape,
When, on the ground, I came upon a hidden, cavernous cut-out.
Venturing within, I wondered and thought: this darkens & broadens,
Until, folding outwards, it reaches out to contain all without!
And there I stood, thoughtfree, drinking in the golden & still Silence,
Wrapped in Reality's shadow, as if touched by a mystic balm.
If all Time should only go by, leaving me alone & afar!
In that state of nothingness, in that cosmic morn of breathless calm,
I saw Your mysterious Spirit tremble & stir, O Krishna!

The Self-riddle

Be certain, my child, nothing quite exists.
Indeed, for sure: nothing, nothing, nothing.
This world is a hasty dream that subsists
On projection and illusion, dazzling
The unreal human self who insists
On pampering his inexistent being.
For Existence marks the delicate mists
Of the unreal; whilst the Real Thing
Doesn't even exist: thus It subtly persists.

Intergalactic Hyperdrive

A simple push of button, a summon to skyward adventure,
Rocket thrusters stagger to life, the final count-down has just begun,
Eyes on sweet Earth, the generous giver of our lives & nurture,
As Newton's gravity is defied by the power of liquid oxygen.

The familiar recedes, not well known worlds our destination;
Fear almost stifled by knowledge, we drive into the far-reaching;
Now to lose our waking edge in suspended animation,
As we renew in these spacefaring times the age of the Viking. 





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