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Ossian’s Grave

PREHISTORIC MONUMENT NEAR CUSHENDALL
IN ANTRIM
Steep up in Lubitavish townland stands
A ring of great stones like fangs, the shafts of the stones
Grown up with thousands of years of gradual turf,
The fangs of the stones still biting skyward; and hard
Against the stone ring, the oblong enclosure
Of an old grave guarded with erect slabs; gray rocks
Backed by broken thorn-trees, over the gorge of Glenaan;
It is called Ossian's Grave. Ossian rests high then,
Haughtily alone.
If there were any fame or burial or monument
For me to envy,
Warrior and poet they should be yours and yours.
For this is the pure fame, not caged in a poem,
Fabulous, a glory untroubled with works, a name in the north
Like a mountain in the mist, like Aura
Heavy with heather and the dark gray rocks, or Trostan
Dark purple in the cloud: happier than what the wings
And imperfections of work hover like vultures

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poem by Robinson Jeffers
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Hieroglyphic Beguile Meant

HIEROGLYPHIC BEGUILE...MEANT

I sought inspiring way to play “beguile”
blood's flood rush-blushing flush, then hibernate,
lush, hid ‘mid hieroglyphics of soft smile.
It dawned that very few can reconcile
emotions' brakes while breaking conscious state,
to draw more definitions for “beguile”.
Most, blind behind closed minds, can’t conjugate
dimensions manifold, unfold, translate,
decypher hieroglyphics of soft smile.

It takes so many lifetimes to compile
right signals light, bright eyes communicate
decoding definitions for “beguile”
into word worlds both varied, versatile,
deep, difficult to truly contemplate -
expanding hieroglyphics of soft smile.
Content observing content, context, style,

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poem by Jonathan Robin
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Colors Of Peace

When
a skunk dies by violence
a bad smell infects the land.
When a cow dies by violence
her unheard cries pollute the land.

When a pig lives out his life
in safety,
good fortune accrues.

*********************
Annie Besant in the years when Chicago
was the physical slaughterhouse capital
of America saw its aura of red anger
an hour away.
Nonviolence can change any aura
to deep violet.

poem by O. Anna Niemus
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Good Friday Reflections

The wind is calm. The aura sweet.
The thunder came. The thunder went.

I like this time of year
when things get done
invisibly, when
everything, young

and wet is hanging
by a leaf. The saviour
Jesus hasn't dimmed
for two thousand easters,

Nature hasn't receded.
(Eyes still think they see
softly wrapped in silk
and spun into simile.)

I like this time of night,
traffic faces all directions

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poem by James Kendrick
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L a s t - R e q u e s t {Ariel's Promise}

Standing close, yet not quite o'er you,
so as not to disturb your stilled presence;
your flesh, shades of ecru, 'n like an aura,
I feel the pulse of your once amber heart...
touching me...cotton gentle, bisquit warm...,
telling me, 'Love......I am not far away''.

But come 'morrow, when they open th'earth,
lower you.....into your final stead,
will i no longer feel that aura about me,
as that would inflict great pain on this heart,
like long rusted nails thru' my arteries;
tell me love.....you'll not be far away.

poem by Frank James Ryan Jr.
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Ghost image

You have delivered tectonic shifts
To me-
Wirelessly;
You have gagged & bound me in this box,
Chasing me-
Runaway fox.
Your simple photograph
Set me free,
Such a commonplace simplicity.
But, oh, with you, girl,
It was different.
I could curl your hair
Between my fingers,
Although it was not there;
And that sly smile
Dangling behind your eyes
Gave glory to the dawn.
There was the aura, too,
The aura hovering about you.
I did not know any more about

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poem by Stan Petrovich
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Elizabethan Ode - French and English Alliteration Acrostic

ELIZABETHAN ODE

Eye evidence, essential essence, eliminate evanescence.
Life links leal, lifts local level label, lets loyal love thrill, spill, spell swell well.
Iraqi illuminati, in ideal Irani idyll insight, intuitively identify pi.
Zephyrs zigzag Fez, Zion, Jerez zoom z zones, Cortez’
America, Africa, Asia, and Australasia, award Aisha ahura aura
Beauty’s baobub boob bulb baits breath, - throb blurb brain bomb.
Elate, elevate exquisite elite, emanate effervescence.
Total trust, trait tact, traps tart test threat, - that toast taught taut thought text tract triumphant.
Hurrah hath harmony hatch. Happiness here holdeth heavenly hope high

Essence est vie et l’harmonie, en elle
Laissant le lien loyal, réel miel du ciel.
Image aussi infinie ici ira
Zephyr voyagez, voyez, vivez!
Aura ardeur, là attendra, aimera
Beauté bien brillante bannira bla, bla!
Exquise est voie esquissée – espère énergie, émoi et joie
Tenant tête – tâtant terrain, tout test totalement transparent traduit toi[t] triomphant

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poem by Jonathan Robin
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The Third Eye

The third eye grants a knowledge divine
says a Sanskrit Manuscript, with the light
of a million lustrous suns, today scientists
suppose the pineal gland to be the third eye

White and grey tissue, pea-sized, cone-shaped,
buried at the back of the skull on the brain’s mid-
line; primitive, light-sensitive, producing hormone
melatonin - melanin pigment for skin/hair colouring

Manufactured from serotonin, a chemical in the pineal
enabling rational thought, when blocked by LSD, man
suffers schizophrenia and hallucinations – the pineal
gland affects body processes and the emotions

Lobsang Rampa said when the third eye opening was
made in his head, the pineal gland enabled him to see
the aura – the angry red flames spurting from violent
people - I am glad I cannot see that

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poem by Margaret Alice Second
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Astonishing And Astounding

My aura is violet tapering off into a soft,
rosy pink - the best explanation for what
is happening, I think; without planning I
browsed and found paper lined in violet,
pink, purple and green

And purple things: a mousepad, glitzy tiles,
a fairy dress - also discovered the softest
pink fleece - the same shade as the rose-
coloured satin throw I had bought for my
mother's bed

Also dug out my purple bag with pink diary
and my pink paper roses - yes, this must
be the colours of my aura, how else explain
everything perfectly fitting together with-
out my planning anything?

Borrowed 7 books from the library, Reader's
Digest ‘Did you Know? - New Insights Into a

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poem by Margaret Alice Second
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her name is Valentine

My Valentine has a lamp about and around her
She tells me an aura of atmosphere of kindness she found
That's when I reach across the table and grab her hand
'you see this grip', I said, 'It's able'
I make into kindness with grip of my hands to labor this thirsty land
to put kindness on this table

And that night was hot with anger
And my pillow alone she cast to my broken barn door
Under the stars, under broken large hole in roof
I fell asleep into kindness, into her dream...
I dream an aura of atmosphere of kindness, a sudden surprise
shining my Valentine's eyes
blinding my resistant

And came this moment... I saw this lamp
It was over full of love and it flowed out and following an empty lost
Something of a voice calling at me saying, 'this is rare and new'
'she initiates a lovely, loveliness flow into her smile for you'
As I thought about this, a current of warm, extraordinary and

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poem by Joseph Nez
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