Over-Soul
A surreal chance encounter
began when I bumped into her
one lovely, Sunday afternoon
while walking Fairview avenue.
Both she and I apologized
then looked into each others eyes.
It was at that very moment
the eyes revealed our involvement:
we had once been husband and wife
living a former different life
but now gaze through and into
different colored eyes, once blue.
We recognized our mated souls
part and parcel of over-soul.
poem by Albert Ahearn
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Parallel Worlds
We’re contemporary lovers
from two different universes.
Entry into either must be
through imagination or dreams.
Once arrived, perception is real
and what was prior, impossible
to attain is now possible:
Our futile love becomes yielding;
Worldly differences disappear;
yet our conceptuality
always plays out differently
in these dreamy parallel worlds;
but one thing remains a constant
throughout these fantasies: Our love.
poem by Albert Ahearn
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A Haunting World
I cherish living in my world-
An exclusive universe
Where no one is allowed entry;
No wife, friends or acquaintances.
It’s a place where music is breathed;
Where the ghosts of literary
Giants still haunt the ambiance;
A serene inner sanctum where
Ideas and inspiration
Grow like precious fruit on a tree
Never given the chance to rot;
Their harvest serving only me.
A place where these influences
Create something memorable.
poem by Albert Ahearn
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Springs Splendor
The nighttime air baptized the earth
with a fresh, clean renewing dew
admitting the seasons rebirth
bidding ‘old man winter' adieu.
The sun emerges warm and immense
casting a golden illumine
adorning springtime's resplendence:
yellow daffodils flowering
in meadows and dandelions'
their tiny sunburst dewy globes
drizzled about in disunion;
each claiming its own abode
amidst ground ivy and clover
nurtured by a gentle zephyr.
poem by Albert Ahearn
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I Remember
The brown raging river flows fast
Along the southing flooded shores
Where once a younger I had passed
Those many long lost years of yore.
I am reminded of August
Of fifty-five: the great deluge
When the river was its deepest
And residents fled to refuge
From the continuous rising
Water. I remember houses
Afloat and animals clinging
To life with their frenzy faces.
I remember…just standing here
Gazing at this mighty Delaware.
poem by Albert Ahearn
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Paradise Found
The azure, clear sky above me
With its fiery eye staring
Down at an early morning scene:
A house sparrows warning alarm
Of my close approaching footsteps
Seemed to awaken the other
Residents of the forestland:
A gray squirrel pops his head out
From behind a maple tree trunk
To investigate what the noise
Is all about, and then disappears.
Dewy heads of dandelions-
Like miniature suns- light my way
Along this path to paradise.
poem by Albert Ahearn
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A Moment Of The Past
I sit before my monitor
Humming an old Roy Orbison
Tune I memorized so long ago.
Hum…Hum um! That Hum! Again
“They’re playing that song again.
I guess it will never end. They’re
Playing it again…” The time I
Spent as a kid replaying it:
A borrowed forty-five record
Until I heard it in my sleep;
That’s what we did to occupy
Our time before the arrival
Of the now widespread computer.
I guess nothing lasts forever!
poem by Albert Ahearn
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The Gulf Of Mexico
The fetid black fluid of crude
Aroused from its watery grave
From geologic slumbering
Awakens with unabated
Vengeance. Its black soul emerges
From the underworld to punish
For an irreparable wrong;
To drown Man in a sea of sludge
And stench and render him helpless;
To ravage his pristine landscape,
His livelihood, all held so dear
To his soon blackened, broken heart;
The aggregate of Man suffers
For the greediness of a few.
poem by Albert Ahearn
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Book Of Changes
I consult the I Ching with a question
Only I myself will ask.
Giving Taoism my full attention
Three pennies I will cast.
Six casts in all will yield a hexagram
Chance determines each line.
The bottom three shows plainly who I am
The top three will divine.
Depending on the hexagram result
In it lies a message.
The book of changes I must now consult
Determines the presage.
Wind followed by wind
Is self-realization
One continuum.
poem by Albert Ahearn
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Colors on my palette
Tiny dishes on my palette
filled with a rainbow of colors
that I meticulously mixed;
arranged like a row of flowers
that I'll use to paint her portrait.
Cadmium yellow for her hair;
white and yellow ochre create
her flesh tone; perhaps if I dare
a dab of cadmium red.
Cadmium deep red for her lips;
perhaps a lighter shade instead.
Cerulean blue for her eyes;
and like a statue she will pose
while my paint laden bristles flow.
poem by Albert Ahearn
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