Category Archives: Poems Beyond Their Words

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

A Sparrow Eats the Universe

Posted on September 2, 2014 by skipavm@gmail.com

If I knew who I’d be by the last written line of this poem. If I knew who’d sway, besotted, beside me to lean in and catch the last word of our maundering sobhet; If this, I’d never have left my … Continue reading →

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Align and Mingle

Posted on August 23, 2014 by skipavm@gmail.com

I like the way random events align and mingle with one another – like the clacking of billiard balls after a super clean break. Close your eyes and it all sounds the same, but if you open them you see … Continue reading →

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Combustible Stuff

Posted on August 18, 2014 by skipavm@gmail.com

Love is of highly combustible stuff… as soon as it becomes perfect, it hears the strike of the Beloveds match, and returns to the consummate flame. tis nothing if not heardEmailTwitterFacebook0PrintGoogle

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Qalb: A secret unlocked with the lips, flies away untold

Posted on August 11, 2014 by skipavm@gmail.com

This poem dons the thorny cloak of consequence, Readers listen for its truth, but only the truthful hear. Life is a kiss, a soft touch, else the prick from the thorn of a rose. Seek love through beauty, but do … Continue reading →

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God, Truth, and Love

Posted on July 20, 2014 by skipavm@gmail.com

The weary ghost insists that the conversation continue… You’re asking me for answers. Being so conscientious, I’ll do my best to stay awake and talk, but it’s gibberish. I miss days of talking through an entire night – into oblivion – until … Continue reading →

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Shams

Posted on July 19, 2014 by skipavm@gmail.com

For Shams, there is little difference between the bottom of a well, or the heights of Halcyon. tis nothing if not heardEmailTwitterFacebook0PrintGoogle

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Poetry in the Elusive Garden

Posted on July 19, 2014 by skipavm@gmail.com

We pluck sweet and thorny words, like roses, from the cacophony and hand them to one another in the vicissitudes of poetry. From pre-eternity, it is we who are plucked from garden of non-existence to dwell a while in the … Continue reading →

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Pieces of Gibran

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

To marvel at Gibran the writer, his works, or the self disclosure both reading and knowing him brings. Which? Which? Perhaps, we should not try to disassemble anything that already leaves us feeling whole. We cannot reassemble colors into pure … Continue reading →

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Measured Time, Immeasurable Perpetuity

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

Measured time is illusory – so much, that memories, in so far as they can be remembered now, are no more real than the present moment, which itself is completely and utterly transient. Poof! It seems the facets of illusion … Continue reading →

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from whence we come

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

…it is the unsettled heart beneath the wool fluttering the fabric over which we roam pulsing rhythms and melodies that harken voices along paths unknown to singing sands of harmony recalling, recalling whence we come… tis nothing if not heardEmailTwitterFacebook0PrintGoogle

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