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Poems from “Have you ever met a Physical?”
Have you ever met a Physical? is a collection of sixty modern metaphysical poems available now from the Purchase page. Here are a couple of poems from this collection. There are more to be found through the links on the right.
| We Are The Poetry
Poetry is not the written word |
Utilise the Universal
I utilise the universal Two ways meet |
More Poems Fame is a Mist No Condos in the City of the Dead We Are The Poetry/Utilise the Universal |
Written
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Theme: The Afterlife.
The transition from this world to the next is not something to be ignored, after all, it will happen to all of us. In fact, my own experience tells me that there are numerous souls who have ‘passed on’ who become frustrated by the lack of understanding that pervades our materialistic culture. Here are a couple of poems based upon experiences and insights that I have gained:
| Death is Rebirth They came one evening As I sat to meditate My Mother’s dead relatives Seated on a small grandstand Overlooking a lobby And a lift What is it? I asked Then along came my Mother With a small suitcase Pulling it quietly She reached the lift Pressed the button And waited . . . Like her Mother Sister, Brother Aunt, Nephew And Ancestors all She would be moving on Two days later I got the call Into hospital for tests But each of us hoped For a different best I flew in to join her We’ll see it through together |
A Gain I died to discover That everything I had done in life Was a prayer to what I believed Every deed, every word, every thought Had wrought a false totem to a false creed This folly was builded across My path of hope It blocked my way up Heaven’s slope And so, now held before This imposing edifice of conceit I understood and quaking sank Down from my feet on to my knees Most terra-fied to realise A return to Earth would be required The me as masked in physical form And recently from office fired Was now, by me, recalled and so re-hired Yet for a time the role delayed I prayed to cleanse the self Defeat conceit and then I played and ran to meet The learned hosts who patient wait Not just above at Heaven’s higher gate But silent at my side on every plane Required until I figure why We say that repetition is a gain. |
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