Having learned the secrets,
keep the promise of silence
no word of this to speak.
Of the Mysteries we speak.
The journey of knowledge and secrets.
Dare to do and keep silence.
Speed towards spirit in silence
and listen when they speak
for they will tell you secrets.
The Lyre-string’s secrets break the silence with song before spirits speak.
Written for dVerse prompt TRITINA
Shall we explore lost secrets hidden deep in the unconscious?
How to reach this repository of the soul is strange.
No amount of thinking in the monkey mind will unlock the door.
Yet concentration on the theme will loosen the catch little by little until the third eye sees inside.
So what visions and illusions await?
A silent film with strange characters.
Memories of stars and planets and past life fragments seep through a jumbled dream.
Hallucinations of a fiery inferno through the translucent fog of the void.
Tunnels of the abyss leading to caverns of demons where tortured souls wail and groan.
Above, on the river Acheron, Charon pilots the souls of light through the dark night of the soul.
Prompt EXPLORE from Sunday Scribblings
Carry on Tuesday MIDWAY IN LIFE’S JOURNEY from Danté
Picture credit ‘Charon’ by high dark templar at www.deviantart.com
This house remembers the blitz
blacked out windows and whirring sirens
warning of bombs.
An Anderson shelter survives in the garden.
On the table a ration book
with coupons left for food queues.
At last the courage to wash curtains
carefully, lest they fall apart.
The clothing coupons all gone.
No fuel for the fire.
Get some sunlight soap and spring clean !
Put life in here again.
Wash away the years of neglect and want.
The dark years must give way to a better future.
Prompt from Tess Kincaid at the Mag BIG ROOM 1948 By Andrew Wyeth.
Shared with dVerse Poet’s Pub.
from the inner planes
Learn and grow
Prompt ALIENS from Haiku Heights.
listen and observe us
near us but unseen
sailing in the next dimension.
Parched dry earth
no rain since April
Ash from fires
carried on the wind
covering the ground
black and white.
For Sunday Scribblings prompt DROUGHT
And shared with dVerse Poet’s Pub
The river’s quiet now as I watch from under the bridge.
Ghosts of barges pass in the morning fog piled with coal.
Smudge faced men drag sacks and stack them for the journey.
Then sit with hand on tiller as the water swishes by in horse drawn silence.
In the distance I hear the whistle of a steam train thundering down the track
speeding the black fuel to its destination.
Picture prompt from the Mag by Tess Kincaid.
Crème de menthe
poured over crushed ice,
providing cool kick,
Prompt GREEN from Haiku Heights.