deepundergroundpoetry.com
The Mantra and the Gentle Molting of the Evening
My throat had grown
Warm, rumbling
With the resonant
Tongue,
Of the mantra,
Spread in a spacious
Aria, to the coal
Chamber
The town,
Burnished
By the invisible
Glow of repeated
Passage,
Subdued,
In evening
Slumber
The house, shadowed by a
Solitary
Light, had
Somehow
Grown more
Accommodating, across
A hand span
Of time
The daylight,
Shot through with rotating
Banners, t-shirt emblems,
Bumper
Stickers, all
Urging us
To move faster, try
Harder, but
Now, the quiet
Seems
To whisper,
Take your time,
Breathe in the space,
Let it come to reside
Within
It was alive and
Continually
Shed it’s
Skins, unearthing
Fresh,
New growth
The mantra
And the gentle
Molting
Of the evening
Blend,
Until they become
A single
Solitary
Sound
Awareness follows
Focus
To the healed
Wound, such a
Seeming
Contradiction,
Clinically
Clean and
Sterile, tissue knotted
Beneath fingers, which
Gently knead
The soil, then with more
Insistent
Probing
A flash of her
Writing, in such neatly
Fluid
Hand
She breathed across
The page, I just
Hack
Away
Her face, smiling in a sudden
Bloom, muscles engaging in a
Simultaneous
Array, her face
Unsmiling, sterile
Surgical instrument,
A white dust sheet,
Thrown over everything
Sleep
Swallows my vision,
Reminiscent of the little
Death, I had steeped
In, when
Drowning
And my last thought,
Was of that slack
Expression, and what it was like
To know someone
And to lose them
In dying, many things
Also
Blossom, a calm
Continuum
Proceeds in articulate
Resurrections, there were
Vital exchanges in our
Conversations,
Of trust,
Of abiding in the safe
Space, we provided
Each other
And the care given
To every
Touch,
Eyes, hands,
Lips,
Which was held
Mutually precious
I long for the warmer lights
Of winter, beckoning with their
Aura of solace,
When a second shirt, under
A blanket, becomes more
Familiar, than my own
Skin,
When time slows
To a crawl
And lies down,
Beside me
In dreams, eyes of another
Dimension, only half
Seeing, half
Imagining, in their volcanic
Orbits, about the semi
Permeable
Darkness, searching the
Unearth, in its array of
Metaphoric
Phantoms, sliding up the walls at
Acute angles, of the Platonic
Cave’s
Unlight
Flame shadows,
For some elusive
Resolution,
Lost
In the solid
Distractions,
Of waking
I feel
Like a dilapidated tenement
House, upon
Rising, the morning
Light seeps painfully
And unobtrusively, into every
Crack and
Crevasse
And then back out
Again, into the still
Moist air
My eyes are blurred
Windows, hands are rocking
Cradles, arms are windswept
Boughs and my knees are
Creaking stairs, complaining
With insistent voice,
All of these
Cohere,
Into a singular moment,
Passing through,
A singular observation
On overcast days,
I pull errant strands
To me, of that selfsame
Light, I need its
Searing gaze,
Searching my body
I am a widening
Iris, caught in it’s sheer
Corridor, growing
Accustomed, to its refracted
Chiasmus, echoing
Back,
I welcome it,
All of it,
Into me
My mind, body, soul, I keep them
Clean and
Well, so that I can
Depart
This life,
In some peaceful
Semblance
To develop talent, like a
Muscle, into a skill which
Acts
In synchronicity, I had to first
Develop in honest, open
And grounded
Tones
Each character
Becomes
A syncopated
Footfall, each time
I return to this,
Well trod country
It is a kind of love, we
Share,
Our truths, in this
Space, and I am
Here,
Huddled
In this chair,
Enduring
Sweat, back
Aches and eye
Strain, to reposit
Soul, into these
Letters
These are our prayers,
Our mantras,
We don’t try to understand,
And we don’t try
To understand
Ourselves,
We live them,
Like a potter’s wheel,
Molding clay
With our hands
In daydreams, I’ll remember
Your face, calmly
Composed, eyes
Bursting with
Barely restrained
Revelations, you are my
Axis
Of perspective,
Everything,
In relation to you
We held
Hands,
To keep from being
Separated,
In the teeming
Throng,
Voices form an
Impenetrable web, only
Our interlaced
Fingers,
Against the tidal
Pressure
It’s just a small memory,
That’s come to hold much
Significance
Sometimes, when I’m feeling
Isolated,
It grounds me,
Memories
Hold that power
Street lights seem brighter
As the darkness
Deepens,
I guess it’s natural
Everything changes,
But everything
Balances, too
..
The Mantra
And the Gentle Molting
Of the Evening
By
Daniel Christensen
Warm, rumbling
With the resonant
Tongue,
Of the mantra,
Spread in a spacious
Aria, to the coal
Chamber
The town,
Burnished
By the invisible
Glow of repeated
Passage,
Subdued,
In evening
Slumber
The house, shadowed by a
Solitary
Light, had
Somehow
Grown more
Accommodating, across
A hand span
Of time
The daylight,
Shot through with rotating
Banners, t-shirt emblems,
Bumper
Stickers, all
Urging us
To move faster, try
Harder, but
Now, the quiet
Seems
To whisper,
Take your time,
Breathe in the space,
Let it come to reside
Within
It was alive and
Continually
Shed it’s
Skins, unearthing
Fresh,
New growth
The mantra
And the gentle
Molting
Of the evening
Blend,
Until they become
A single
Solitary
Sound
Awareness follows
Focus
To the healed
Wound, such a
Seeming
Contradiction,
Clinically
Clean and
Sterile, tissue knotted
Beneath fingers, which
Gently knead
The soil, then with more
Insistent
Probing
A flash of her
Writing, in such neatly
Fluid
Hand
She breathed across
The page, I just
Hack
Away
Her face, smiling in a sudden
Bloom, muscles engaging in a
Simultaneous
Array, her face
Unsmiling, sterile
Surgical instrument,
A white dust sheet,
Thrown over everything
Sleep
Swallows my vision,
Reminiscent of the little
Death, I had steeped
In, when
Drowning
And my last thought,
Was of that slack
Expression, and what it was like
To know someone
And to lose them
In dying, many things
Also
Blossom, a calm
Continuum
Proceeds in articulate
Resurrections, there were
Vital exchanges in our
Conversations,
Of trust,
Of abiding in the safe
Space, we provided
Each other
And the care given
To every
Touch,
Eyes, hands,
Lips,
Which was held
Mutually precious
I long for the warmer lights
Of winter, beckoning with their
Aura of solace,
When a second shirt, under
A blanket, becomes more
Familiar, than my own
Skin,
When time slows
To a crawl
And lies down,
Beside me
In dreams, eyes of another
Dimension, only half
Seeing, half
Imagining, in their volcanic
Orbits, about the semi
Permeable
Darkness, searching the
Unearth, in its array of
Metaphoric
Phantoms, sliding up the walls at
Acute angles, of the Platonic
Cave’s
Unlight
Flame shadows,
For some elusive
Resolution,
Lost
In the solid
Distractions,
Of waking
I feel
Like a dilapidated tenement
House, upon
Rising, the morning
Light seeps painfully
And unobtrusively, into every
Crack and
Crevasse
And then back out
Again, into the still
Moist air
My eyes are blurred
Windows, hands are rocking
Cradles, arms are windswept
Boughs and my knees are
Creaking stairs, complaining
With insistent voice,
All of these
Cohere,
Into a singular moment,
Passing through,
A singular observation
On overcast days,
I pull errant strands
To me, of that selfsame
Light, I need its
Searing gaze,
Searching my body
I am a widening
Iris, caught in it’s sheer
Corridor, growing
Accustomed, to its refracted
Chiasmus, echoing
Back,
I welcome it,
All of it,
Into me
My mind, body, soul, I keep them
Clean and
Well, so that I can
Depart
This life,
In some peaceful
Semblance
To develop talent, like a
Muscle, into a skill which
Acts
In synchronicity, I had to first
Develop in honest, open
And grounded
Tones
Each character
Becomes
A syncopated
Footfall, each time
I return to this,
Well trod country
It is a kind of love, we
Share,
Our truths, in this
Space, and I am
Here,
Huddled
In this chair,
Enduring
Sweat, back
Aches and eye
Strain, to reposit
Soul, into these
Letters
These are our prayers,
Our mantras,
We don’t try to understand,
And we don’t try
To understand
Ourselves,
We live them,
Like a potter’s wheel,
Molding clay
With our hands
In daydreams, I’ll remember
Your face, calmly
Composed, eyes
Bursting with
Barely restrained
Revelations, you are my
Axis
Of perspective,
Everything,
In relation to you
We held
Hands,
To keep from being
Separated,
In the teeming
Throng,
Voices form an
Impenetrable web, only
Our interlaced
Fingers,
Against the tidal
Pressure
It’s just a small memory,
That’s come to hold much
Significance
Sometimes, when I’m feeling
Isolated,
It grounds me,
Memories
Hold that power
Street lights seem brighter
As the darkness
Deepens,
I guess it’s natural
Everything changes,
But everything
Balances, too
..
The Mantra
And the Gentle Molting
Of the Evening
By
Daniel Christensen
Published 30th Jul 2020
Author's Note
Copyright © 2020 by Daniel Christensen. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher.
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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The author encourages honest critique.
30th Jul 2020 2:51am
Awareness follows
Focus
To the healed
Wound
I just let myself cry reading this, relational opposition and the balance it creates. One face sterile, the other broken to see the smile gone. And still, I remained warm here, in your tender words. Curled up in their lap like a cat Daniel.. the voice in the audio came out with the calm and sincerity of one handing down grace.
Beautifully done babydoll ♥️
Focus
To the healed
Wound
I just let myself cry reading this, relational opposition and the balance it creates. One face sterile, the other broken to see the smile gone. And still, I remained warm here, in your tender words. Curled up in their lap like a cat Daniel.. the voice in the audio came out with the calm and sincerity of one handing down grace.
Beautifully done babydoll ♥️
30th Jul 2020 3:04am
30th Jul 2020 1:44pm
Self awareness and being humble and brave enough to face your wounds is incredible. It's worth the trouble.
30th Jul 2020 8:27pm
I’m with CalamityofGin, there’s no better way to put it. This is a beautiful tapestry woven together masterfully of the somber tones of allowing yourself to just be. Brilliant work, Daniel. 💜.
30th Jul 2020 8:28pm
4th Aug 2020 00:21am
A beautiful mantra indeed Daniel. The subtle melancholia...the yin and yang of life...then the calming liberation of balance. Bravo my friend.
Cheers...Harry
Cheers...Harry
4th Aug 2020 2:21am
Harry it's a joy to hear from you. That's absolutely the vibe I was on my friend. Be safe and proceed in calm abiding. 💖🙏
5th Aug 2020 11:32pm
Anonymous
- Edited 30th Jan 2023 2:45pm
18th Aug 2020 11:40pm
<< post removed >>
20th Aug 2020 2:25am
Anonymous
12th Apr 2021 8:42am
Hello Daniel,
I read it first and then listened to the audio. With the audio I closed my eyes through tears, and felt like your poem was like a guided meditation. You purged me of pain and I felt so much relief at the end. I am going to listen to this each day this week. You have captured the mindfulness of life and healing. Taking what is a painful experience and shedding it of the shadows, to allow light in and to breath once again with clarity. I love this piece so much. It had such an emotional reaction within me. I feel lighter, for that I thank you 🙏💕
Gwen x
I read it first and then listened to the audio. With the audio I closed my eyes through tears, and felt like your poem was like a guided meditation. You purged me of pain and I felt so much relief at the end. I am going to listen to this each day this week. You have captured the mindfulness of life and healing. Taking what is a painful experience and shedding it of the shadows, to allow light in and to breath once again with clarity. I love this piece so much. It had such an emotional reaction within me. I feel lighter, for that I thank you 🙏💕
Gwen x
13th Apr 2021 00:37am
This was a particular period or connection to source for me. I've been through some trials since and it's great to reconnect with it. I'm so grateful that it was resonant for you. Thank you so much. 💖🙏🏻
