Sounding Circle: Genesis of My Writing

 Genesis of My Writing3 comments
9 Mar 2006 @ 08:49, by Raymond Powers

I began writing poetry when I was 12 years old, the same year I was taught to meditate. I would go into a sort of trance, a oneness, and the experience of automatic writing would happen. as I grew in age and evolution I became more conscious as I dipped into dimensions and simultaneously wrote down the gifts I received. My life has been a process of integrating, embodying the mystic veil that was opened to me as a young man. The world, our culture has been a challenge for me at times and I am grateful for the wisdom of earth peoples who have an understanding of our multi-dimensional nature.

Here are some of my more recent writings. Though not in relationship, some like “I Remember” were inspired by profound connections during Soul (or eye gazing) with another. Love IS a tidal wave that, if we are willing to surrender, shakes us to the very core.

Sanctity Dwells

What is pure must become unpure.
Daily, light changes into dark,
Is purity a fact or an opinion?
Does truth reveal itself to thieves as well as kings?

There was a martyr once who’s blood flowed onto the belly of Gaia,
it rained, and wedding bells were heard.

I’ve seen men dance with flames twirling from their wrists,
Do their hearts burn with that longing?

I remember, so vividly sometimes,
running down the middle of the street, fearless,
somehow, there came a time,
when I believed it was safer to walk on the side,
always checking behind my back.

I found that the middle is where sanctity dwells.

I Remember

How can I not be overjoyed?
Blue stars from the ethers that only I can see,
They look so much like your eyes,
The face of Love,
The moon behind the clouds,
A shadow puppet,
Two lovers embrace,
They dance in the firmament,
I dance in the cool canyon breeze,
The fire in my heart is fed by thoughts of you,
I am drunk, but not drunk,
I am wide awake,
Lucid as the fig whose roots drink from the stream,
Or the double winged dragonfly that lights on my hand,
There is more that I do not know than what I know,
The more pomegranate seeds I eat the more are revealed,
The juice stains my lips,
Runs down my chin,
The sweetest nectar reminding me of you.

There is no either or…

Unbind me,
Take these shackles from my wrists,
let my swollen ankles free,
This body,
at once a prison and the holiest of holies,
Eden and Babylon both in my belly,
My breath keeps missing my heart,
I want this ember to flame,
To burn and glow from behind my eyes,
Illuminating the path before me,
A lighthouse on the shores
of the ocean of Love and Mercy.

This illusion of separateness,
It keeps me tethered in a dream,
Where a camel tries to walk on water,
And fish run thirsty on the desert floor.

Hidden,
there inside my inner smile,
A host of angels,
Oneness with wings,
I must not forget to look behind me,
A tidal wave of Love,
Drown or surf?
There is no either or…

The Wren

How can I quench this thirst?
I could drown myself and only steam would rise,
You could see me glowing in the river,
The sun and I would have a contest,
Who could make the seeds grow faster
And sleep with the moon,
The wren springs to life in my hand
And sings in my ear,
This I understand,
But these longings, they are a mystery to me,


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3 comments

10 Mar 2006 @ 23:23 by jmarc : get thee
to the poet tree. Theres alot happening over there!  


11 Mar 2006 @ 05:34 by judih : hark, do i hear pomegranates singing?
the oneness swells
with the lick of the syllables
riff on, ray  



11 Mar 2006 @ 13:57 by silviamar : oh yes!
please, come to our poets group! (Link), we will send you an invitation :-)  


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