Laron
QHHT & Past Life Regression
Staff member
Administrator
Creator of transients.info & The Roundtable
Some of you have already seen these, but others have not. I posted these poems of mine on transients.info back in June last year, but felt like sharing them on the Roundtable.
Here are a collection of twelve poems which I wrote at various points in time throughout the first half of 2015.
While I composed a lot of poetry last year, I chose these specific poems below for a Poetry Folio that I submitted for final assessment within a Poetry based course I was taking that ended mid-year, 2015. It was 1 of 8 courses within a Diploma in Writing programme I was studying. When graduating I received 8 A's, half of them A+'s, including an A for poetry; the critique was that I could have been more creative with the way I structured these.
Poetry was my favorite form of writing based on the variety I was taught. I put a lot of effort into trying to become decent at it, so took it seriously. It was the first time I had attempted poetry in a serious way, having never been taught it back at school.
The Poetry Folio had to have a theme. I chose 'Life', and this is the title of my Folio.
This folio contains a collection of poems relating to mother nature, earth, spirituality, and life. Note that the order of the poems are also important — as per the theme.
My teacher, Clif Fell, is a well known published poet in NZ and University teacher of Creative Writing. He also once studied under one of America's most popular poets, Billy Collins. If you don't know Billy, I did once write an article about him on transients.info which you can find here (Focused around one of his TED talks — it's a great talk).
Without further ado, here is the collection.
Life to Death
Individual consciousness, lighter than a leaf,
enters into physical form from spirit.
Much time is spent in the womb, so dark,
whilst the sapling grows into a young tree.
Unbeknown, is a world so thick with fears
as the journey begins into the light.
Laughter and joy at the arrival of a light
life is to be had, as the sprouting of a leaf
reveals itself. Released are the many fears
built up from the long wait, as the spirit
of the moment is set free, like a tree.
The first birthday ends with night's dark.
A word is slowly uttered in the dark
of the evening. The shining of the sunlight
brings the first steps towards a tree.
Wide eyes observe the falling of a leaf,
as the beginning of life brightens the spirit
of the guardians who are manifesting new fears.
With the first kiss brings along fears,
as a growing body hides away in the dark.
Hormones bring turmoil that interfere with spirit,
as built up anger and hate shades the light.
Confusion through curiosity flattens a leaf
with tears, which fall from under a tree.
A ring slips on a finger beneath a tree,
with it comes a smile in addition to a few fears —
their first coupling, both as green as a leaf.
An opportunity for life is created in the dark.
Within the excitement of the moment, light
shines inside two hearts that connect to spirit.
With the loss of a parent to spirit,
buried beneath the shade of a tree,
thoughts turn towards the light.
Aging sets in that brings lingering fears,
fears about the inevitable dark.
The body deteriorating like an old leaf.
Guides from spirit help to ease any fears,
as memories under a tree are recalled in the dark.
The light of the soul departs — lifted like a leaf.
(The above poem is in the form of a Sestina)
The Calendar
Dedicated to the Diploma in Writing programme I am taking
I carry the weight of a calendar,
which reminds me of the passage of time
Each month I must turn a page over —
its current image is coloured in lime
The white wall behind it, hosts its position
The curtain beside remains fully closed
A sharp pin holds its alignment level,
while this calendar is slowly exposed
Many gardens are portrayed within,
from intense flowers to towering trees
The beauty of nature is pleasantly depicted,
as each photo does its best to appease
This calendar of time is a record,
a reminder of getting things done
The turn of a page portrays time passing,
as life becomes weighed down by the tonne
The Q'ero Shaman
I booked in a healing session with the Q'ero Shaman. The experience was unique and interesting. His healing method seemed very traditional to me — it was composed of a number of rituals which included the use of musical instruments. There was a bit of rhythm in combination to the Spanish language he used throughout the session. This took place on an island on Lake Titicaca.
Calling the spirits
A gentle energetic
touch filled my field
(The above poems are in the form of a Haibun and a Haiku and relate to a trip I took to Peru in 2011)
Back to the real world
It was the music from whence I came —
the songs of many birds.
Their memory sat and remained with me,
while I walked out of that forest
and returned to what some may call
'the real world', which contained its own jungle —
but that of concrete.
My best choice in that moment
was to look back and recall the memories,
which so easily and so peacefully
held the space for me. That was nature.
That was where I wanted to exist permanently,
but with this world, with this society,
my choices were limited.
Walking barefoot through the trees
brought me down to Earth with such grounding —
those stones, those sticks and that layer of dirt.
My fingertips would brush the sides
of jagged trunks, as I stepped between them.
The feeling beneath me,
through the souls of my feet,
was all the magic that I required.
Could I sit so still for so long?
For centuries?
I would hold the memories of time,
like a vault under some prestigious bank.
I must now leave all that and move on,
back to what I continue to do in this world.
However, perhaps one day
I will return to that solitude,
whether that be in nature,
or beyond physicality.
At the rivers edge
The flow of this river is apparent,
as I hear the crunch
of little grey stone pebbles
beneath my dirt stained sneakers
Gently, but swiftly, I walk alongside
this dark green mass of water,
that which the depths cannot be judged,
since the belly is unable to be seen
A bird sings — one which I will likely never see,
but I can still listen
A jogger appears out in front of me,
like a ship slipping into view
from within a mornings mist
My mind is elsewhere,
as I take in the moment
of natures beauty
The jogger is now gone —
what did he experience upon his encounter
alongside this watery passage?
The pebbles change to a rich brown dirt
as I keep placing one foot after another,
along this path that leads me deeper
into my absent mind
Blue Lightning
Standing beneath the reflective blue surface,
with memories of conflict echoing inward,
I feel consuming thoughts being ripped away
I wish so exuberantly to venture out and beyond
Can I be that stream which will take me from here?
Departing, I left behind all that mattered,
like a rock falling from a precipice, never to return
I became the flow that also granted me such mindfulness
With a renewal of energy, I felt stronger than ever
The potential of lightning, fuelled from within my soul
The Brewing Storm
After Charles Simic
We finally obtained the life so desired.
Fresh berries and fried eggs for breakfast.
Hope of a bright future, with sunlight in every room.
Hand in hand, we strolled joyfully by the sea.
Some days, things were not so ideal.
We began to have our doubts —
like actors of a play gone wrong,
while the audience laughed and hackled
and the critics left with mouths wide open.
We became acrobats balancing on ropes edge.
Our days ended with cigarettes in our hands.
What did we always try to ignore?
A storm brewed on the horizon,
but so far away from the wishful serenity.
Lightning suddenly above, with such a roar.
The power cuts out leaving just darkness.
We hold hands to find familiar comfort,
but decide to let go one last time.
Surrendering
The only person who wanted me alive,
washed his hands of me
as I am gently pushed up a sloped drive,
the truth relinquished any further fight.
A cheerful woman breaches the doorway.
I almost smile to my self —
my frightening thoughts are interrupted.
I try to ignore the prodding sunlight.
With hunger gnawing at my insides,
the nurse coaxes me from the bed.
Forbidden bread that triggers trepidation.
My stomach wonders what that does.
'Rest now you must be tired,' she says.
I’ve nowhere to go, nowhere to run.
With a heavy head,
my eyelids win the battle of consciousness.
From Krakatoa, to a New Earth
With skies a vivid red hue, the eruption left its scar
An archipelago once ringed an island of magma,
while towering oceans fled to form far-off lakes
A wave of pressure circumvented the globe —
society noting down multiple passings
Both beast and man were left to their fates
Mother earth screamed her song ferociously,
as the climate later took part in the chorus
The 'water year' became well known in the states
One tends to weigh the unspoken question,
'Will the earth ever chant one more time?'
as the planet starts to again grumble,
deep down, beneath the feet of mankind
We populate many corners of the lands
and dwell on a living, rocky surface
While consciousness shifts further forward,
we await change, at times feeling nervous
Our impact on nature has taken its toll —
great advances bring much responsibility
From within we can find our own solutions
and forge a new world, with ample stability
Full Circle
And it sounded like a place I could call home.
The sounds came forth, as the thin branches
of the many trees, moved gently,
with a slight quiver from the breeze.
It was a place I could go when I needed that respite.
I did go there, and I went there as many times as I could,
as I lived out a long life up into old age —
upon which the red blood of my heart
would eventually stop flowing.
I now look back at a life once lived,
and I consider the many choices
which were presented to me —
and the decisions I fruitfully took.
Like one keenly browsing a market stall,
I examined very closely my experiences,
within the time that I had.
But now I hold no regrets,
no remorse and no judgement,
as I come to comprehend
why I was there,
and why I no longer need to return.
Through light and dark, we roam in time and space
Through light and dark, we roam in time and space.
Before we were complete, from source we came —
fearless, compassionate, with love and grace.
'Why?' one may ask, while they try to retrace
those hidden memories that form their frame.
Through light and dark, we roam in time and space.
The choice was made to pick this earthly place,
as life hands down experience, to aim —
fearless, compassionate, with love and grace.
Hardship pulls us closer, while we chase
life's grand purpose (with or without our blame).
Through light and dark, we roam in time and space.
Wisdom brings progress, within souls pace,
as a teacher hints words, who once became
fearless, compassionate, with love and grace.
With great perseverance we will embrace
our planned lives, often relit like a flame.
Through light and dark, we roam in time and space —
fearless, compassionate, with love and grace.
(The above poem is in the form of a 'Villanelle')
The Song of Mother Earth
And in her song the winds blow broadly,
whistling across trunks and limbs
The force of nature, pushed forever forward,
through many a gully and recess —
far from the awareness of city folk
Raging rivers gush beneath the air,
which laughs a sweet lullaby,
and sings into a long dark night
A final song will one day play,
from within her deep blue sphere,
as mother earth takes a journey,
and explores a new frontier
Here are a collection of twelve poems which I wrote at various points in time throughout the first half of 2015.
While I composed a lot of poetry last year, I chose these specific poems below for a Poetry Folio that I submitted for final assessment within a Poetry based course I was taking that ended mid-year, 2015. It was 1 of 8 courses within a Diploma in Writing programme I was studying. When graduating I received 8 A's, half of them A+'s, including an A for poetry; the critique was that I could have been more creative with the way I structured these.
Poetry was my favorite form of writing based on the variety I was taught. I put a lot of effort into trying to become decent at it, so took it seriously. It was the first time I had attempted poetry in a serious way, having never been taught it back at school.
The Poetry Folio had to have a theme. I chose 'Life', and this is the title of my Folio.
This folio contains a collection of poems relating to mother nature, earth, spirituality, and life. Note that the order of the poems are also important — as per the theme.
My teacher, Clif Fell, is a well known published poet in NZ and University teacher of Creative Writing. He also once studied under one of America's most popular poets, Billy Collins. If you don't know Billy, I did once write an article about him on transients.info which you can find here (Focused around one of his TED talks — it's a great talk).
Without further ado, here is the collection.
Life to Death
Individual consciousness, lighter than a leaf,
enters into physical form from spirit.
Much time is spent in the womb, so dark,
whilst the sapling grows into a young tree.
Unbeknown, is a world so thick with fears
as the journey begins into the light.
Laughter and joy at the arrival of a light
life is to be had, as the sprouting of a leaf
reveals itself. Released are the many fears
built up from the long wait, as the spirit
of the moment is set free, like a tree.
The first birthday ends with night's dark.
A word is slowly uttered in the dark
of the evening. The shining of the sunlight
brings the first steps towards a tree.
Wide eyes observe the falling of a leaf,
as the beginning of life brightens the spirit
of the guardians who are manifesting new fears.
With the first kiss brings along fears,
as a growing body hides away in the dark.
Hormones bring turmoil that interfere with spirit,
as built up anger and hate shades the light.
Confusion through curiosity flattens a leaf
with tears, which fall from under a tree.
A ring slips on a finger beneath a tree,
with it comes a smile in addition to a few fears —
their first coupling, both as green as a leaf.
An opportunity for life is created in the dark.
Within the excitement of the moment, light
shines inside two hearts that connect to spirit.
With the loss of a parent to spirit,
buried beneath the shade of a tree,
thoughts turn towards the light.
Aging sets in that brings lingering fears,
fears about the inevitable dark.
The body deteriorating like an old leaf.
Guides from spirit help to ease any fears,
as memories under a tree are recalled in the dark.
The light of the soul departs — lifted like a leaf.
(The above poem is in the form of a Sestina)
The Calendar
Dedicated to the Diploma in Writing programme I am taking
I carry the weight of a calendar,
which reminds me of the passage of time
Each month I must turn a page over —
its current image is coloured in lime
The white wall behind it, hosts its position
The curtain beside remains fully closed
A sharp pin holds its alignment level,
while this calendar is slowly exposed
Many gardens are portrayed within,
from intense flowers to towering trees
The beauty of nature is pleasantly depicted,
as each photo does its best to appease
This calendar of time is a record,
a reminder of getting things done
The turn of a page portrays time passing,
as life becomes weighed down by the tonne
The Q'ero Shaman
I booked in a healing session with the Q'ero Shaman. The experience was unique and interesting. His healing method seemed very traditional to me — it was composed of a number of rituals which included the use of musical instruments. There was a bit of rhythm in combination to the Spanish language he used throughout the session. This took place on an island on Lake Titicaca.
Calling the spirits
A gentle energetic
touch filled my field
(The above poems are in the form of a Haibun and a Haiku and relate to a trip I took to Peru in 2011)
Back to the real world
It was the music from whence I came —
the songs of many birds.
Their memory sat and remained with me,
while I walked out of that forest
and returned to what some may call
'the real world', which contained its own jungle —
but that of concrete.
My best choice in that moment
was to look back and recall the memories,
which so easily and so peacefully
held the space for me. That was nature.
That was where I wanted to exist permanently,
but with this world, with this society,
my choices were limited.
Walking barefoot through the trees
brought me down to Earth with such grounding —
those stones, those sticks and that layer of dirt.
My fingertips would brush the sides
of jagged trunks, as I stepped between them.
The feeling beneath me,
through the souls of my feet,
was all the magic that I required.
Could I sit so still for so long?
For centuries?
I would hold the memories of time,
like a vault under some prestigious bank.
I must now leave all that and move on,
back to what I continue to do in this world.
However, perhaps one day
I will return to that solitude,
whether that be in nature,
or beyond physicality.
At the rivers edge
The flow of this river is apparent,
as I hear the crunch
of little grey stone pebbles
beneath my dirt stained sneakers
Gently, but swiftly, I walk alongside
this dark green mass of water,
that which the depths cannot be judged,
since the belly is unable to be seen
A bird sings — one which I will likely never see,
but I can still listen
A jogger appears out in front of me,
like a ship slipping into view
from within a mornings mist
My mind is elsewhere,
as I take in the moment
of natures beauty
The jogger is now gone —
what did he experience upon his encounter
alongside this watery passage?
The pebbles change to a rich brown dirt
as I keep placing one foot after another,
along this path that leads me deeper
into my absent mind
Blue Lightning
Standing beneath the reflective blue surface,
with memories of conflict echoing inward,
I feel consuming thoughts being ripped away
I wish so exuberantly to venture out and beyond
Can I be that stream which will take me from here?
Departing, I left behind all that mattered,
like a rock falling from a precipice, never to return
I became the flow that also granted me such mindfulness
With a renewal of energy, I felt stronger than ever
The potential of lightning, fuelled from within my soul
The Brewing Storm
After Charles Simic
We finally obtained the life so desired.
Fresh berries and fried eggs for breakfast.
Hope of a bright future, with sunlight in every room.
Hand in hand, we strolled joyfully by the sea.
Some days, things were not so ideal.
We began to have our doubts —
like actors of a play gone wrong,
while the audience laughed and hackled
and the critics left with mouths wide open.
We became acrobats balancing on ropes edge.
Our days ended with cigarettes in our hands.
What did we always try to ignore?
A storm brewed on the horizon,
but so far away from the wishful serenity.
Lightning suddenly above, with such a roar.
The power cuts out leaving just darkness.
We hold hands to find familiar comfort,
but decide to let go one last time.
Surrendering
The only person who wanted me alive,
washed his hands of me
as I am gently pushed up a sloped drive,
the truth relinquished any further fight.
A cheerful woman breaches the doorway.
I almost smile to my self —
my frightening thoughts are interrupted.
I try to ignore the prodding sunlight.
With hunger gnawing at my insides,
the nurse coaxes me from the bed.
Forbidden bread that triggers trepidation.
My stomach wonders what that does.
'Rest now you must be tired,' she says.
I’ve nowhere to go, nowhere to run.
With a heavy head,
my eyelids win the battle of consciousness.
From Krakatoa, to a New Earth
With skies a vivid red hue, the eruption left its scar
An archipelago once ringed an island of magma,
while towering oceans fled to form far-off lakes
A wave of pressure circumvented the globe —
society noting down multiple passings
Both beast and man were left to their fates
Mother earth screamed her song ferociously,
as the climate later took part in the chorus
The 'water year' became well known in the states
One tends to weigh the unspoken question,
'Will the earth ever chant one more time?'
as the planet starts to again grumble,
deep down, beneath the feet of mankind
We populate many corners of the lands
and dwell on a living, rocky surface
While consciousness shifts further forward,
we await change, at times feeling nervous
Our impact on nature has taken its toll —
great advances bring much responsibility
From within we can find our own solutions
and forge a new world, with ample stability
Full Circle
And it sounded like a place I could call home.
The sounds came forth, as the thin branches
of the many trees, moved gently,
with a slight quiver from the breeze.
It was a place I could go when I needed that respite.
I did go there, and I went there as many times as I could,
as I lived out a long life up into old age —
upon which the red blood of my heart
would eventually stop flowing.
I now look back at a life once lived,
and I consider the many choices
which were presented to me —
and the decisions I fruitfully took.
Like one keenly browsing a market stall,
I examined very closely my experiences,
within the time that I had.
But now I hold no regrets,
no remorse and no judgement,
as I come to comprehend
why I was there,
and why I no longer need to return.
Through light and dark, we roam in time and space
Through light and dark, we roam in time and space.
Before we were complete, from source we came —
fearless, compassionate, with love and grace.
'Why?' one may ask, while they try to retrace
those hidden memories that form their frame.
Through light and dark, we roam in time and space.
The choice was made to pick this earthly place,
as life hands down experience, to aim —
fearless, compassionate, with love and grace.
Hardship pulls us closer, while we chase
life's grand purpose (with or without our blame).
Through light and dark, we roam in time and space.
Wisdom brings progress, within souls pace,
as a teacher hints words, who once became
fearless, compassionate, with love and grace.
With great perseverance we will embrace
our planned lives, often relit like a flame.
Through light and dark, we roam in time and space —
fearless, compassionate, with love and grace.
(The above poem is in the form of a 'Villanelle')
The Song of Mother Earth
And in her song the winds blow broadly,
whistling across trunks and limbs
The force of nature, pushed forever forward,
through many a gully and recess —
far from the awareness of city folk
Raging rivers gush beneath the air,
which laughs a sweet lullaby,
and sings into a long dark night
A final song will one day play,
from within her deep blue sphere,
as mother earth takes a journey,
and explores a new frontier
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