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 First Published: September 24: 2015
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Poets' Letter Magazine Archives Poetry Pearl

Laura Solomon

Published in London Poetry Pearl   V London Poetry Festival 2009 Anthology


You Will Know When You Leave

It is a place of choice. The deep black fissure in the rock
glistens like an open wound. Or some fanged mouth of hell.

You can’t even remember what you came here for;
there is no turning back. Dead track.

Down you go, alone, so late,
kelp grasping at your legs like the grubby fingers of ghostly girls.
The bitter salty air stings pores, the seagulls chirp - angelic lunatics.
The keening wind moans its chorus, your hands cling like spiders’ legs to the walls.

You have no idea where on earth in the world you are.
You are clueless. There are no more planks to break.
Your mind is nothing more nor less than simple blank space.

The ancient songs of extinct birds are blowing in the breeze.
Is there something in or under a rock pool that you think you might need?
There is no thought here that hasn’t been thought before.
There are vampires in the trees.

You won’t know when you get there.
You will know when you leave.


Copyrights @ Laura Solomon:New Zealand




Back to Poets' Letter Magazine Archives Poetry Pearl

The Latest Lighthouse Keeper

The lamp no longer shines. It’s been disconnected since time immemorial. Cut off.
This place has been long abandoned. Only an idiot would take up residence here.
We choose, of course. We are not forced.

There could’ve been another way.
Rust coats my stained fingers as I climb the iron stairs.
Some come for the view – me, I’m here for the ghosts.

On this first night, at midnight they show up;
As predictable as clichés – the pale ones in billowing white nightgowns,
The multi-coloured guys - green, purple with green rings, green with yellow rings,
any combination, in fact, of ring and base colour, you might care to dream up.

So strange. The lovely ancient lace, browning now at the edges,
the beads that hem the garments. The fancier ones sport feathers.

They are from all the centuries. They come marching in, like saints –
an invisible orchestra keeps the beat. Ghostly music enchants the air –
like the scent of flowers from some other-worldly garden.

Anybody else would run screaming.
Me, I keep very silent. Me, I keep very still.
I have always loved a parade.

This is the most excitement I’ve had in decades.

Even before they depart, I’m down on my knees, praying, saying,
O when will you return?

But they have other visits to make –
it’s over, now, my turn.

Copyrights @ Laura Solomon: New Zealand


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The Lake Eden Eye





The Window of the Heavens Always Open and Calling: All We Have to Do Is: To Choose to Be Open, Listen and Respond




Imagine a Rose-Boat

Imagine a rose floating like a tiny little boat on this ocean of infinity
And raise your soul-sail on this wee-little boat and go seeking out
All along feed on nothing but the light that you gather only light
Fear shall never fathom you nor greed can tempt nor illusion divert
For Love you are by name by deeds you are love's working-map



Only in the transparent pool of knowledge, chiselled out by the sharp incision of wisdom, is seen the true face of what truth is: That what  beauty paints, that what music sings, that what love makes into a magic. And it is life: a momentary magnificence, a-bloom like a bubble's miniscule exposition, against the spread of this awe-inspiring composition of the the Universe. Only through the path of seeking, learning, asking and developing, only through the vehicles and vesicles of knowledge, only through listening to the endless springs flowing beneath, outside, around and beyond our reach, of wisdom, we find the infinite ocean of love which is boundless, eternal, and being infinite, it makes us, shapes us and frees us onto the miracle of infinite liberty: without border, limitation or end. There is nothing better, larger or deeper that humanity can ever be than to simply be and do love. The Humanion


Poets' Letter Magazine Archive Poetry Pearl

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The Humanion Online Daily from the United Kingdom for the World: To Inspire Souls to Seek

At Home in the Universe : One Without Frontier. Editor: Munayem Mayenin

All copyrights @ The Humanion: London: England: United Kingdom: Contact Address: editor at thehumanion dot com

First Published: September 24: 2015