Tag Archives: poems

The Mad, the Beautiful: ‘The Highly Sensitive’, by Judy Dyer – review

The Highly Sensitive: How to Stop Emotional Overload, Relieve Anxiety, and Eliminate Negative EnergyThe Highly Sensitive: How to Stop Emotional Overload, Relieve Anxiety, and Eliminate Negative Energy by Judy Dyer

My rating: 4 of 5 stars

Come and read this book if it’s about you. –

If you feel why life can’t be lived at the same pitch
Of your mind’s notes written in the heart’s chamber;
If you find the utter cry of your heart without a hitch
In a solitary sea of words rolling and heaving under
A rainbow of vivid imaginations and fleeting emotions;
And your spirit often rebels and refuges in the ether
From the detritus of broken promises and shattered dreams,

You were born of the mystic race of the Highly Sensitive
Of Fire, Spirit, and Dew in the wondrous alchemy of beauty,
So beautiful, so wonderful, so delightful that your eyes are lit
With twinkles of shiny waters, sparkles of diamonds
That which adonize you with the Supreme One of Mystery.

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on the labyrinth

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The labyrinth has two natures: Beauty and Chaos

Concealed in its untrodden paths of dazzling mysteries:

Light and dark, birth and death, mastery and terror

All curled in wreaths of coiled bewilderment in alterations

Encircled in the visceral entrails of  great serpentine

Paths that allure you with a riveting promise of delights

From erotic games of licentious pursuits of pleasure hunts.

Lo! Somewhere in the corners of paths hides a blue marble

That promises you magical power of all that you want to be

Immersed in the deepest bottom of your secret bleeding heart

Wrapped up in the divine power of the magical beauty, 

Which is the messier, the prettier, the madder, the better. 

 

P.S.: The inspiration for this poem comes from the Greek mythology of the Labyrinth. The story, pattern, and design fascinate me and evoke a wide arc of thousands of imaginations. Riveting. 

poesie #

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When the night gently descends upon the day on the earth’s bed

And he silences her secretly with a force of darkness

Whispering softly in delirium, murmuring faintly in fever

blinding her with an extraordinary frisson of ecstatic fear

the spirts of tragic heroines of love – Dido and Ariadne-

run to the top of the hill where the sky lies above the earth

and lament their earthly journeys that ended in love alone

as Hounds of Love howl beside the beautiful losers in love

till the lovers’ tryst ends in a mist of passion and intoxication.

 

P.S.: I am always inclined to the stories of beautiful losers whose loves for their figures of the affairs of the hearts are not returned because there’s something tragically beautiful in them. Dido, the beautiful queen of Carthago, was cruelly forsaken by trojan refuge and founder of Rome Aeneas and chose to end her own life thereafter. Ariadne was a Cretan princess who helped Athenian prince Theseus to kill the Minotaur and to bring out the Athenian youths from the labyrinth with her inscrutable ball of threads as a guide to a route out. But Ariadne was also later deserted by Theseus and let alone on an island and forced to marry Dionysus, the god of wine. Hence this poem about those who are unlucky in the affairs of the hearts. 

 

cheers, cutie

If you trust to your lucky stars

For life to be easy on you

Then look at small things

To find pleasantness

That will lead you to the stars

Twinkling thru the leaves of the trees. 

 

Author’s Note: I came across this tweet, which I found cute and pleasant to make my morning brighten with a cute smile. This adorable picture of a mouse is taken from Hermit Saints Triptyche by Hieronlmus Bosch, Circa 1495-1505. It is seen in the scene of “St. Anthony the Abbot in a nocturnal landscape with a burning village”. I thought this tweet, together with the painting itself, was an apposite subject to uplift the mind dipped in a moody spirit.

flight of life

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She has seen the strange fear gain

Advantage on the society of citizens

And the panic win of the ghost campaign

Drumming in masks, marching in battalions.

When she has seen the start of the war,

It has asked her once again to wonder

About the cyclicity of history to reflect

Upon the nature of humanity that retains

Its dualism of good and evil ever to resist

The heaven on earth for the glory of heroes.

This thought is as a plague of the fear

That has begun to deter me from a cheer.

Author’s Note: All the locomotion of daily city life seems to have ceased: my regular Starbucks store is operated on a pick-up service only, the security guards at the lobby have gone, the streets are empty, and policemen in tandem are patrolling. The situations also extend to Ventura County, where I live. I tried not to write about the pandemic craze because of its very sheerness of the subject about which many writers are probably writing. But what I have seen for these past four days in my very eyes has fomented me to write about my impression and feelings. Hence this is it.