Category Archives: Poems Beyond Their Words

contains poetry inclined toward mysticism, gnosticism, Irfan, Tasawwuf, Sufism

Ishq

Posted on January 16, 2015 by skipavm@gmail.com

“Water derives its color form the vessel that holds it.” ~~ Sufi Al-Junaid of Baghdad Behold the Moon, she loves the Sun so deeply, that all we see of her is the solar light of her beloved reflecting off of her … Continue reading →

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What is forgotten

Posted on January 15, 2015 by skipavm@gmail.com

What is forgotten Is easily replaced All else remains, divine quiet rings of ripples last long after the Beloved’s pebble cast to vanish beneath the water line. From the still axis a deeper message heard in the silence, between the echo, … Continue reading →

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The Writing Hand is Raised a Slave

Posted on January 14, 2015 by skipavm@gmail.com

“Such tiny hands,” he said shoving elephantine thoughts Into them wielding such power – knife clutching, caressing, pen. He took his eyes off the screen for a moment, to watch them go. He pondered, “Long is the journey along nerves … Continue reading →

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Heart becomes the sun

Posted on January 14, 2015 by skipavm@gmail.com

Heart becomes a blood dense sun Consuming all of anyone come to take a seat beside or to sacrifice their burdens. Goes the ghosts into the pyre soften, silent from the ire consuming even their own ashes magnesium memories in … Continue reading →

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Into the Vacant

Posted on January 12, 2015 by skipavm@gmail.com

God undoes everything From interstellar crystalline To keep a distance in between Each fair feather in gusting flocks in shifting weaves with sequenced wings numbered bezels of the clock ripples role in circles, serpentine spilt in pools of synchrony beneath … Continue reading →

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Iqra!

Posted on January 1, 2015 by skipavm@gmail.com

“What if the first command were ‘Write!’ not ‘Read!’” (intended and received as a deeply introspective and profound posit by Maha) What of the pristine experience Of pure meaning before the knowledge of word, it’s metaphor. Even this pondering without … Continue reading →

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Poems that will get me killed (2015, Issue 1)

Posted on December 29, 2014 by skipavm@gmail.com

I wrote to her sacrilege Toasted haram She, an idol among dregs I, a totem in her palm Love lifts on rose scent leaving petals to quiver all between us once, rent, only kindling to give her Hence, I turn to death which best knows life and set fire to my nest … Continue reading →

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We Knew Too Much

Posted on December 24, 2014 by skipavm@gmail.com

We knew too much to continue our lives and into the darkness we fell A poem was written, we reviewed it, but realized we already knew of the downfall of men so why continue the poem, but it was beyond … Continue reading →

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Everything

Posted on December 16, 2014 by skipavm@gmail.com

Everything we see is it’s pristine essence casting the same light from the womb of darkness. Gripped by the dolor of a glaucous sky, love’s longing reminds us that nothing is ever truly lost to anything less than the visual … Continue reading →

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A Fair Curve in a Slow Current

Posted on December 12, 2014 by skipavm@gmail.com

My death is a lengthening, eastern shadow creeping. As the sun sets on a westerly life fountain coins, falling, deepening. Throw away nothing of a poets reaping recollection, Glowing golden within the chaff, darkened wheat in separation. He plays to … Continue reading →

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