I would that I were poet, 
I would that I were sage,
I would that each and every word were gold upon the page. 

I would that matchless wisdom, 
I would that endless sky, 
did grace my words, like little birds, 
that kiss the clouds with fly. 

I know not where this hunger,
I know not where this rage, 
to take the real, 
     as with a seal, 
          and stamp it on a page. 

I would that all the fancies, 
     that race inside my mind, 
          could let me rest, 
     till I am blessed,
a home for them to find.

And I complain and mumble, 
     but don't be fooled by me.
These words and I, 
     live hand in hand, 
        for I would a poet be. 

"I Would That I Were Poet"
The Carnival of the Soul, Jean Llanomirth

I wake
     and break into some high and wide verbiage.
Gorging my mind
     like some starving babe with bloated belly
            grasping                                 final morsels. 
Like some naked infant, muscling with all mouth
     to suck every last drop 
          of sweet white. 
(and I think...)
    why do i fress and press the regress data? 
(...I need...)
     why do i ground and pound the eyes-
          slicing and dicing the finite mind? 
     My God wish Screams. 
(...to be empty.) 

"The Finite Mind"
The Carnival of the Soul, Jean Llanomirth

The poets are the ones who go mMAadD. 

They, in their crowded wordings, 
     place miiiiiiiiiiles into minutes.

In this crystallizing compaction, 
Aeons squeeze into seconds.

     The poets mind, pressing infinities
                       into miniatures
                            stretches.

Seeing MOUNTAINS, 
          in small blue pebbles.  

"The Poets"
The Carnival of the Soul, Jean Llanomirth

 

Being

When the thinking,
     and the feeling, 
kiss with the doing, 
     then honey drips 
                                s 
                               s
                                  s
                               s
                                     from the heart, 
                                             and being
                                                            starts. 

"Being"
The Carnival of the Soul, Jean Llanomirth

"And it was in that moment I knew...  I knew I existed to know God intimately as truth, beauty and goodness.  And, to please God through nurturing such in my selves and in my dealings with all.  All my kin, God's family, man and woman kind."

Jean Llanomirth, Impressions