Tag Archives: poetry

MY poetry is written with an intuitive passion for rhythm, action and flow.The content is mostly congruent, meaningful, thought provoking & of interest.

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The Art of Words

by Liam

Let me learn this art of words, I say,

To shape the sounds that linger in the air,

To sculpt the dawn from dreams in which we play,

And weave the truth these willing hands can bear.

For language is a lantern in the night,

A bright spark shining when the paths depart;

It warms the cold, restores my fading sight,

And carries mystery from the deepest part.

Which—tumble humble from my heart—they all,

Like scattered petals drifting in the breeze;

Yet still they rise to answer some faint call

And settle softly where another sees.

So grant my voice, that gentle souls may hear

The blossom of this art made bright and clear.

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The Embrace 

by Liam

In a quiet moment, my love met me there,

The wine’s red stain upon her lips,

Her ruby lockets curl with graceful care,

Now deep into my eyes her gaze now slips.

Her embrace transforms my very face to hers,

So we touch not with bodies, but with sighs,

In that kiss, the world around us blurs,

And all we share is in our eyes.

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The Song of Silence 

by Liam

In a hundred different ways, silence speaks in its own language

Only you can understand that tongue. 

What we hear is more beautiful than poetry

More eloquent than these words I write.

It is the hush where souls meet,

The quiet doorstep where we recognize one another,

As if the long road turned here

This meeting 

The end and beginning.

And so, I come home,

Not to a place, but to the shelter of your being,

Where silence blossoms into belonging,

And every new arrival is already complete.

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My Love Rose

by Liam

I have whispered to a rose with petals red,

Within lies an image of your face concealed;

Each blossom a memory of the grace by which you thread,

The sweet perfume of your story thus revealed.

The bud in a bouquet, rough with thorns in place,

Yet you remain unharmed by their cruel art;

Reach I to free you from their sharp embrace,

With a gentle grasp, yet will I win your heart?

Place I now the rose, soft upon this pillow fair,

Where magic dwells and gentle dreams entwine;

Your presence scents the hush of starlit air,

And makes my mortal heart beat more like thine.

Oh red rose, whose beauty sings your name,

In you, my love finds pleasure and its flame.

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The Flux

by Liam

Do not be deceived by the word, ending

for what you call an end,

is but the shy opening of another door.

All things move in their own rhythm,

each life is a current of becoming, of growth,

each moment a threshold

where the unseen strives to find form.

Your past is never lost

it lingers, ringing as a faithful echo,

a mirror of the self you too once carried.

But memory is not a cage,

it is a root, quietly fertilizing 

the soil of your tomorrow.

Let your  patience soften joyfully into the flow of change,

Thereby shaping  with tenderness

the mighty clay of your becoming.

And when all the familiar falls away,

cling not to its absence which is surpassed,

but trust the shining horizon

already rising within you.

For nothing truly concludes.

Its from the silence,

new language is being born. 

Each new letter a eulogy 

to yourself.

The end, is but a beginning,

And us, forever in flux,

are eternal pilgrims of 

arrival.

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Consider

by Liam

Should we consider,

It is the knowledge of the enquirer

to become nothing — and then peace within will reveal everything.

For yourself, this is the eloquence of the answer:

those pieces of your past

will become the peace you seek.

Wait, for time is not the ticking of the clock,

Instead the hand that turns the question’s lock.

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Individuation

by Liam

Ive walked a path coiling like a serpent,

through shadowed groves and sudden light,

With each step, echoed a name

I once thought was me.

The masks I wore, were 

polished for strangers,

and beneath them 

a thousand unspoken selves

begin to mumble .

Dreams spoken in riddles,

their tongues woven with moonlight and bone.

Opaque symbols risen from the depths 

the wise old one,

the wild child,

the dark twin.

I do not banish them.

I invite them into my eyes

Into a house, my heart

built from reconciliations,

each room a meeting place

where my shadow meets light & clasps hands.

Sovereign 

at the far edge of this inner continent,

I recognize 

it was never about becoming someone new,

but remembering

who stands looking me all along.

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 Angels Dance

By Liam

Now day departs and seeks its rest,

Soft gold still lingers in the west.

The sky dissolves in shifting light,

Blues to crimson, then to night.

Yes! you, an angel dancing high,

Across the quiet evening sky.

Clouds become your gentle flight,

Again, you drift into my sight.

Your horizon now meets my gaze,

You search the night with tender words.

With stars, with sparks, with dreams unseen,

Then flashes where our souls convene.

Together there, we shape and write

A cosmos born of purest light,

A heaven woven, bright and free

Our silent book, our mystery.

Now I close my eyes in sleep,

This wonder in my breast I keep,

Until at dawn, on morning’s wing,

We wake once more, and rise to sing.

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Quietude 

by Liam

A handshake…

 this simple moment of presence.

Your child’s laughter, sudden and bright,

like a bird startled into song.

The August rain,

softening the grass under my feet,

and the patient rhythm of the sea ….

eternal, like my first deep breath in the morning.

A glass of wine with dad,

that silent enjoyment of time passing gently.

The grace of easing someone’s pain…

as if your hands remembered

they were created for this.

And love…

not hurried, but intense and slow,

together under the watchful shade of the moon.

Our souls meeting again,

stronger for the intimacy  we enjoy.

Life, quietly , remains

the most astonishing gift.

It is from here…

this place of sacred normality…

that we learn to stop,

Allowing the small things to speak.

These, they are the truest.

They fade not.

They dwell inside us like embers,

warming us when we feel cold.

And this is why we go on …

because even in the quietude,

we are being told who we truly are.

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Music

By Liam

Dance, spin, and soar,

not as an escape, but as a return.

This rhythm is older than breath,

deeper than quietude.

It’s as we began.

A pulse in the dark,

a whisper blowing between stars.

The music waits,

not here in the noise of the world

but in the hush beneath it’s appearance.

When the body loosens its grip

and the soul steps forward,

bare and trembling,

then the ringing begins

pure and vast,

the long, clear tones

of the cosmos remembering itself.

O how the energy moves in me,

not frantic, but free.

The spheres humming in holy accord,

lifting us again and again

like breeze whirling over open fields,

like joy spilling out from love.

To be lost in flow

is to be found by grace.

To move without need

is to be moved by something

wider than will.

There, in motion

unbound and unburdened,

I felt at last…

not the music I sought,

but the music I’ve become.