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Axilea MU

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Featured Book
Living a Muslim Life
by John Herlihy

A sweeping introduction into various aspects of Islamic Studies, including Islamic culture and spirituality...  
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Across, (once) unholy
by Axilea MU
Monday, October 12, 2009
Rated "G" by the Author.
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Recent poems by Axilea MU
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           >> View all 273

At the end of the night,
finally comes the mineral moment
of unwanting;
                  a free fall,
to test the lustrous thread
and taste infinity,
by traveling through
                  crisp, frozen layers of loss.

There, I see the      cracks
multiple reflections  (truths)
in need of reconstruction
- a unifying breath.

My hand then puts together
opalescent feathers
like cards laid on the dinner table
in a place almost defined
between bread crumbs and dripping candles.

So the mandala of peace appears
when Isis opens the chest
                 to suddenly free my heart
where revelations are written,
reflected in my irises at dawn.

At dawn, naturally emptied,
instead of wanting
(and wanting, and wanting),
mirrors in mirrors,
                blades against blades;
once separated signs
now form new shapes:
drops of garnet blood
form crosses and crystals.

In a moment,
all the sacred pieces
(of me) are assembled to form
a whole.

   Emptied again,
             yet embodied:
                    a cup, a circle, so full.

                                          

 

 

 

 

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Reviewed by Elizabeth Price 10/19/2009
Brilliant. Liz
Reviewed by David Hightower 10/17/2009
Axilea - Thought provoking as always. Enjoy your language of images that expresses the spiritual journey. Many quotable lines, but I especially liked the paradoxical ending:

Emptied again,
yet embodied:
a cup, a circle, so full.
- David
Reviewed by jude forese 10/16/2009
perceptive atmospheres of enlightened thought embellish this poetic mosaic with focus and adroitness ...

"My hand then puts together
opalescent feathers
like cards laid on the dinner table
in a place almost defined
between bread crumbs and dripping candles."

excellent visual ...
Reviewed by Gene Williamson 10/15/2009
What magnificent writing, Axilea...

My hand then puts together
opalescent feathers
like cards laid on the dinner table
in a place almost defined
between bread crumbs and dripping candles.

You are indeed an inspiration.

-gene.
Reviewed by Ronald Hull 10/14/2009
Often occurs in dreams...

Ron
Reviewed by Liana Margiva 10/14/2009
WONDERFUL!!!!!!!!!!!! Liana Margiva
Reviewed by Dawn Anderson 10/14/2009
"In a moment,all the sacred pieces(of me) are assembled to form
a whole." After reading your review, I came to read your new post...telepathy? Maybe. Wonderful metaphors in this Axilea...soft, beautiful.
Reviewed by Felix Perry 10/14/2009
This is amazing Axilea, one of your very best, I could almost watch the transformation and feel the soft yet strong metamorphis of your soul and heart. A definate one to be published.
hugs
fee
Reviewed by John Flanagan 10/13/2009
Axilea,
The distinct feeling that I as a reader am intruding but am welcome nonetheless as you lead me through an exegesis of wants. This poem stimulates and enriches intellect, heart and spirit.

John
Reviewed by Kate Burnside 10/13/2009
Yes, indeed... like the sun coming up with a healing and strengthening warmth and with consolation after a night of heavy fever. This speaks to me on several levels that I can't quite understand - like a language I recognise but have never learned. All I can do is to reiterate the lines so that their power invades where it will... and it does! Beautiful poetry that does what all good poetry should do: awaken, stimulate, mystify and surprise. xx
Reviewed by Carin Spirit 10/13/2009
"So the mandala of peace appears
when Isis opens the chest
to suddenly free my heart
where revelations are written,
reflected in my irises at dawn."

I love these line and agree, this piece is exquisite. Live Well, Carin'


Reviewed by Karla Dorman, The StormSpinner 10/13/2009
Exquisite, this holy hush of beauty - well done, Axilea.

(((HUGS))) and love, Karla.
Reviewed by Cryssa C 10/13/2009
I love the little metaphors so subtly hidden throughout this poem. It leaves me feeling as though I am walking on personal holy ground... so I go, treading softly...
Cryssa
Reviewed by Axilea MU 10/13/2009
Dear Charlie, I was (not so) secretly hoping for you to do so. Irises are reflected in irises. And poems in poems. :)
Reviewed by dan Rosenhagen 10/12/2009
Oh my, incredible.

Only from ones hand can be constructed these worths. Passion formed from Egyptian's
gold is best served only to a kindred soul that is old. And you have an old soul, and is seen in the tempered beauty of your words.
You have the eyes of a sage, the heart of an angel, and the wisdom of the ages lost in time.

Reviewed by Charlie 10/12/2009
Mmmmm. I love this--a little flower of faith reawakening. I especially appreciate those "i.rise.s at dawn". I like yours better than mine, so I'll tuck these lines into my black bag when you're not looking...
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This volume has the various elements of Earth speak directly to us. Available at: http://www.amazon.com/s/ref=nb_sb_ss_i_0_12?url=search-alias%3Daps&field-keywords=lonnie+hick..  
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