by Steve Tanham
Mystical poetry: 87 words. A one-minute read A blade of grass, a hand, a way To shadows on a path that say There’s truth here to be found ♾ The sky above, so blue The sound of birds so true The kiss of evening’s sun in tree ♾ All say, but not together But when together, shout: Any thing can speak to you ♾ … Read More Any thing
by Steve Tanham
Mystical Poetry (A one-minute read) ➰ And as the end it will be thought A climb of thorns on stem untended An effort worthy of the past But not in words that speak unended ➰ Within the stem there lives a rose Whose living warmth, once felt, unfolds And at the end it will be known The rose’s fragrance is your own ➰ ©Stephen … Read More Within the Rose
by Steve Tanham
Mystical poetry. (140 words, a two minute read) ➰ In icy dream We ate our picnic, you and I And watched while moonbeams Lit the curls of how and why And seated watchers watched the sky ➰ No frozen crusts of bread: This food of soul was liquid light Drawn, once, upon the glittering night Enmeshed, entwined, in meanings bright Like crystals on the … Read More A dream of Ice Crystals
by Steve Tanham
Mystical Poem in the Sufi style: 120 words. A one-minute read Across a scattered land I sought you For almost all a lifetime’s days Until within a book I brought you To be a light beneath my gaze. ♾ Within a scattered mind I sought you Aflame with thoughts and secrets found But words declined to let me find you Who watched the eyes … Read More Across a Scattered Land
by Steve Tanham
There are sails in an upstairs window Whose cloth never tasted the spray Of an ocean long lost in memory And a happier, faraway day ➰ She sailed in his heart to the sunset Where the end of their world fell from sight At ninety degrees to his life-line. And down to a watery night ➰ He waits now, his captain’s badge polished His … Read More Sails in a upstairs window
by Steve Tanham
Sometimes there is a kind of poetry in the arrangement of objects in a landscape, not seen, fully, before the finger presses them into personal history. The symmetry, the visual song, is seen later, as here with ancient rocks, weathered and waiting; the out at sea lighthouse; and the distant volcanic dome, worn down into a bullet by millennia. The arrangement is not created, … Read More #ShortWrytz : three things
by Steve Tanham
We sat, in end of day repose To speak of evenings drawing cold And grass with moisture in its folds And share our wine with crows ➰ One, bolder than the rest Climbed high, as if to rise and reach A silver phantom, caught in sun’s Descending rays out of the west ➰ Within the moment’s crest and hiss What thoughts, I wondered, passed … Read More Wine with Crows
by Steve Tanham
I am crow, on summer’s breeze Glimpsed in love with beating wings Within the bright sun’s leaving. ➰ My feathers’ strong and hollow shafts Are filled with air you breathe And softly lit in our reflected passion. ➰ Remember this when dark and sodden bird Looks out, short day’d from tree of Ash Asking nothing of your walk of logs to fire. ➰ Raise … Read More Crow on a Summer Breeze
by Steve Tanham
They placed a test within the breast Of humans, who go round and round To gaze on fullness, once, and then Descend, with scent and sigh From gold on face to black And back… ➰ So little held, this joy of June’s Delight and softest night with dawn A moment’s slumber distant Long grass between the fingers Petals’ kiss, a fleeting bliss A setting … Read More Summer Solstice 2020
by Steve Tanham
There are colours so deep, so pure They drop beneath the colour word Into a hue of inner meaning —- There are some reds That are not red, but blood Not spilled, not end of life But beginnings —- When the red that is not blood Speaks through the blood that is not red And spills our life upon the opened palms Then it … Read More The Mouth in Red
+ #Poetry, #Silenti, Belief and Faith, Christianity and modern mysticism, Consciousness, esoteric psychology, Mystical poetry, Spirituality
by Steve Tanham
Take me out in darkness Where the only light is black Like a railway platform leading To the forms that end the track ⦿ Let endless trains of thinking Pass, ghostly, through the night And cease their whistling thunder In a silence turning bright ⦿ Let what I am-not die there On the empty, singing rails As sleepers are run over As tickets blown … Read More End of the Line
by Steve Tanham
I sometimes wonder if the fire is kin to what I am within Is skin to what I am within – when darkness lures A hiss of icy night and eyes too tired to find delight The swishing of the white tail, paws on icy grass ⦿ The tiny crunch – dark whisper, pulls me there The velvet black surrounds – foolish! My skin … Read More Heartfire 4 am
