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The Orange Light – A Spiritual Odyssey



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The Orange Light – A Spiritual Odyssey

Selected Poems of the Spirit by

Peter Geoffrey Paul Thompson

1969-2016 52 pp.

All further enquiries to the above at his address

(Red Lantern Publications)

17, Walmer Close, Collier Row, Romford, Essex

RM7 8QH U.K.

I begin with his own “Introduction”: These poems are a selection of spiritual works taken from my entire poetic career, or rather vocation, since the very beginning of my muse in the 1960’s up to 2016. While some have never before been published, many have appeared in various poetry magazines, though not in my previous collections.

One of the title poems “The Orange Light” was winner of the Poetry Box Silver Cup Trophy Annual Award (Hampshire, 2014) and was highly commended in the Tip Davidian Poetry Competion (Norfolk, 2007). “The Eternal Hour- A Soliloquy” was runner-up in the Quantum Leap Poetry Competition (Scotland 2010), “Ralph that Devil’s Artist” was highly commended in the Poetry Box Halloween Poetry Annual Award 2015.

Previous Publications are as follows:

The Lark Will Sing Alone 1993

Seraphim and the Seven Steps to Paradise 2003

Burgundy the Eternal Ride 2005

Avalon: The Quest for the Amaranth 2013

The Formalist – A Sonnet Suite 2017
What better now than to treat you two a selection of poems from this collection (one which is by no means fully representative but which will, at least, give a flavour of this gifted & versatile cornucopia)?

The Orange Light

The Parable of the Lost Soul’

The orange light across the sea

was hazy in the evening mist,

the fool was in the little boat,

the boat was static with a list.

He shouted from the little boat

across the water so becalmed,

but no one heard his lonely voice,

a voice so desolate, embalmed.

He could see nothing but the light

he could hear nothing but the sea,

gently lapping against the hull,

the orange light of mystery.

The night was peaceful as a tomb,

the light was motionless beyond

his little boat, and fading there,

the water like a stagnant pond.

Still water like a stagnant pond,

his little was static there,

the light was motionless beyond

his little boat beyond repair.

The orange light a mystery,

the night was peaceful as a tomb,

and, gently lapping ‘gainst the hull

the sea beneath the fog and gloom.

He could hear nothing but the sea,

he could see nothing but the light,

his voice was so desolate, embalmed,

the light was fading, never bright,

and no one heard his lonely voice,

he shouted from the little boat

across the water so becalmed,

he shouted with a raucous throat,

his boat was static with a list,

the orange light across the sea

was hazy in the evening mist,

the orange light a mystery –


Sonten

Oh living soul residing in us all

that makes us one with all we see and know,

majestic spirit that inspires the glow

of love and truth and goodness, hear the call

of plaintive voices, and once more enthral

the hearts of men, and let creation flow

across this needy world, both high and low,

until all dark destruction has its fall;

and deity supreme within all men

shine through the muse and through the waiting pen.

Blasphemy

When God is used to bless the slaughtering guns

Saying God is on one Nation’s side.

When power of priest the over-riding aim,

When man alone is the sole source of pride.

When narrow creed is arrogant and blind,

Brainwashes Man keeps Woman in her place,

When God is used only for human gain,

Or for the privilege of just one Race,

When one religion dominates the others,

When one religion wars against the rest

Despite the value of all cultural views,

Saying that, of course, their ‘truths’ are best.

Where sex is seen as dirty and beneath

The holiness of ‘purity’ to bring

The damage psychological of man,

For sex, God-given, is a wondrous thing.

To those who say that God is limited

By gender, colour, race or earthly form,

To those who see themselves as ‘saved’ and yet

Condemn true seekers to the fires of Hell,

Make God a wicked father-figure here

On Earth, and for our ‘evil sins’ to quell,

To those who judge and are not merciful,

To those say they’re saved and others damnedl

To those who scare our children with their ‘God’,

And Satan down their fearful throats is rammed,

To those who wear the purple robe and vestment,

Hiding a hundred secrets underneath,

Hypocrisy dressed up as outer virtue,

Devouring truth with avaricious teeth,

For those who preach their narrow creed is right

On people’s simple faith their wealth is made;

The poor pay tithes which makes them even poorer,

While pastors live the rich life as they trade.

Yet, in the very heart of God’s dominion

The worm is turning, blasphemy there lives,

Yet God is omnipresent, wise and loving:

Turns the other cheek and then

Forgives.


The Death of the Concept – God

They see God’s plan as in a moment caught

In ritualistic phase of might work,

In Sabbath rest surveying all so wrought.

They play as children good from narrow kirk,

Blind to all the glories deep within –

For every soul is full of sacredness,

The deepest parenthood, our highest kin

Are born of Soul awareness, robes will dress

The Inner God who surely must awake

And take the helm of destiny foreseen.

The tiller be the soul, the waves they break,

The waters part, the storm has ever been

The lesson, for the making of the God

Who now attains the scaling of the walls.

History’s father beats in vain his rod,

Senile, see! The concept-god, he falls!
Oh Let Me Tell (Brentor sonnet)

Oh let me speak of antique jewels rarea

as on wings of angels in a dream.

Too precious for this world of abject care,

too high, too mighty with its subtle gleam.

The gems of worth unseen by shallow brash

young souls who buy mere trinkets with mere cash.
Oh let me tell of hidden sweeter songs;

let my ecstatic heart be as a proof,

illuminating darkness, righting wrongs.

Let inspiration greet this soul aloof,

and let my joy be on the shining page

in marriage of the gods and of the sage.


A Spiritual Odyssey

The old Gnostic truth of reincarnation

Was seen as a threat by the Catholic Priests,

And so they suppressed it for power and for money,

Behaving as liars and ravenous beasts.

Removed from the Bible, the truths of the doctrine

Of reincarnation, removed from the sight

Of the simple, the gullible, ordinary people,

And the Gnostics (The ‘Knowers’) they had to take

flight,


For branded as heretics they were in danger,

And only for stating the obvious truth –

There were so many cases of people recalling

Past lives and experiences, virtual proof.

The church didn’t like people given such chances

Of life everlasting outside of their fold,

And so replaced it with priestly control (called

Confession)

And as people returned to the Church priests grew

bold,

But then people started to go to church seldom,



And after confession they thought they were saved,

So then (using fear once again, priests fought back &

Made missing confession a sin oh so grave).

And then, for good measure, priests thought up

another

Device (called it ‘Purgatory’) cunning idea,



For confession complete, still the people could suffer

‘Twixt Heaven and Hell, in a limbo of fear.

And it’d true one could buy one’s way out of

Suffering

With special indulgences, given by priests,

Indulgences for those with big contributions

Of money and land for the ravenous beasts;

But the poor they rebelled, for they couldn’t afford it,

Expensive indulgences couldn’t save them,

And the blind, duped rich people thought they had

been saved from

Entering purgatory, branch, root and stem:

But the priests oh so cunning, they wanted the

coppers


And trinkets and baubles of even the poor,

So devised the invention of Novena Candles

(continued over page)

(continued from previous page)

Which the paupers could light for a penny or more,

For the poor souls in Purgatory, relatives, comrades

Gave them time off in Purgatory, pennies would do,

So the Church became full of those chained, ripped-

off puppets

(And priests, of their slyness, men hadn’t a clue).

Fear and control were the Church’s sharp weapons

Till enlightenment shone and damnation was dead,

For I tell you truly that God does not punish,

For love Christ has suffered, for love Christ has bled.

Be fearless for truth and be steadfast in passion,

For God is within you and God is not dead,

And sweep away all the lies that would stain you,

As over the ruins of churches you tread.

Believe your experience, take bold decisions,

Run your sword through superstition and lies,

For yours is the Power, Enlightenment, Glory

Yours is the Salvation and yours is the prize.


Five Haiku for Easter

Beyond the roar of

Traffic I kneel in silence

By Jesu’s candle.


He died on the cross

That we might live. Laid down His

Life for we sinners.
He was my hero.

My freedom bought with his blood.

He died on the cross.
When I cross over

I know that you will be my

Comfort, dear Jesus.
You have forgiven

Me in your great mercy

O Lord, saved my soul.
Sonnet

(Dedicated to White Eagle)

To be the channel of a bridge of light,

To find the holy Christ-self deep within,

To spread the vision with illumined sight

And to commune in love with spirit kin.

And from the darkest cave of infant heart,

To find the cross and circle of the star

That sign of ancient brotherhood, to chart

Our pathway home from foreign soil afar.

Eternal knowledge, rise from transient thought

Through countless incarnations, thus we learn

To build the Soul’s dear Temple, as we ought,

And from a million errors so to turn

And let each Inner Master, as you taught,

Shine with an inner light and ever burn.




The Sacred Order of the Red Lantern

And in the savage unenlightened medieval time of

darkness

When fires of hell sin and evil reigned supreme,

There was a holy refuge of the damned despised and

disinherited Named Soul,

And if perchance, man came openly to the ineffable

light


Of sacred spirit

He would glimpse his enlightened path

Through the desolate gloom

By way of an eternal red lantern,

His shepherd

Which would unerringly guide him

To the gleaming rubies of his own

Creative heart in triumph and joy,

Releasing his inner glory

On the sublime wings of inspired poetry:

The revelation of himself, his very essence,

A mighty God aflame - - - -



Peter Geoffrey Paul Thompson
Patches

WHEN THE CLOTH OF HUMAN KINDNESS

FRAYS

and ragged ,tattered flags betray our unity



We clothe ourselves  in moon-skin

knowing only nakedness. All Royal robes

are shared to commoners-from Queen and Pope

dispensed/dispersed/as multi-millionaires

share Foundations for their Charities.

We are Fragments of the Whole/

remembering when we shared community

whether family ,clan or politics/our culture

remains kindness and compassion. Sharing

makes a loaf or bread and fishes last.

We give because we know the last

shall be the very patch we were searching for

to make our quilt complete.
BEGGING/BEGINNINGS

EVERY YEAR. Every month. Every week. Every day. Every morning. Every afternoon .Every night. Every moment .I resurrect.

I do not know/how this begins. BUGS REMIND ME/NUMBERS DO NOT COUNT.

Lodged like a rock in this world. I crumble under pressure. MIRROR LAKE HOLDS MOON FOR ONE NIGHT!

Fat Buddha. Reclining Buddha. We turned them-into

Buddhism!

Leaving took all these years-to drop my gravity. Each

day a calendar-etched in my lines.

Overcoat sky. Lightning scarred. Storm slashed. HEAL! .I stand in water/only when it is moving.

Each wildflower a Bitcoin of uncounted colors. Wind. Chill. Ills. Freeze. Unease. My hands(time

stamped)/Envelop fate.

My body(RETURN TO SENDER!).Butterfly me. Cabbage moth fire Sneezing(allergic to death).Watching changes-Flowers. Colors.

Distant sun. Cool moon. STAR FLOWERS! Bodies of branches/Fall..ON THIS MOON-Light Balances..Light/Stars..

UP! Eyes follow skies/stars' reflections. Lakes.(i go where rain follows..LONELY YELLOW SUNFLOWERS DROOP MOON WHITE

IN love with this world-and the last(and the next! (Shell/Catacomb Cathedrals=Our Ventricle Chamber Heart!

Each leaf-Unnamed. Unnumbered. Unique.(My Last Life=Preface to the BOOK OF NOW!

WANTING RAIN LOVER/UNDER CLOUD COVERS.(Blossoming! Even Youth-Ages..

My one life. One sun. One moon. One time. (BUTTERFLY THOUGHTS/PETALS FALL)

SNAP!FREEZE!CHILL!WIND!(Just Add Time!). EVERY FLOWER VOTES AGAINST

EMPERORS.

One leaf. One wind. Many Seasons.(Road to one

moon/lit by one sun.

ANCESTORS.SUNFLOWER FIELDS .STANDING

TO ATTENTION.



Chapter One

HAD TO STOP-to see the moment/stopped with me

GATHERED FLOWER YEARS /in a weed basket

BIRD!WINGS!BREATH!SINGS!

Inside each flower cathedral=Insect choirs!

Doctor Covers Wounds With Bandaged Time.

Bee Pilgrim!(Sweet honey flower addict

ALL MY LIFE!(Dreams of Past Lives!

Cicada's Hollow Cry(Unseen Needs...)

LIGHTNING .FIREFLIES.SPARK.EPIPHANIES.

BRIGHT!BRILLIANT!FIRE!FLIES!

Moths Love Fire. Light Loves Darkness.

DRIFTWOOD. Kissing Beach Lips..

MOON PAINTS PALE FACES ALE

STILLNESS.BUDDHA FLIES/INTERRUPT US

Waves Return Tides to Eternity Moon Beaches.

Cricket does not cry(Neither does tennis..

WHEN YOU LEAVE/MY MOON RETURNS..

Voices Remind Us/What Silence Loses.

SHELLS OF WINGS. BUTTERFLIES.SNAKES.CRUSTACEANS

Age is only/the dropping of rocks/into streams

My Garden. Lonely For a Gardener..



Chapter Three

MOON FACE.POCKMARKED BY VISITORS.

Trance Formation=Birth of dewdrops!

CANDLE TIME.POOLS OF WAX(Immortality)

My Garden Celebrates ALL Seasons!

COLOR MY TREES!(Each Leaf-A Masterpiece!



AROMAS ARISE! Plums! Apricots!

=SOLIDARITY!

Moon. Flowers. Yearning. Distance.

Even Birds Sleep. Even Death Sings!

MY SKIN!ASKS FOR MORE SPARE PARTS!

DARKNESS CALLS!-BRING YOUR LIGHT!

First Flower. Blinks, Uncertain..

Mother Moon. Father Sun. Sister Stars .I leave home.

UMBRELLA MOON.RAIN CLOUD CHORUS.

I am moon. Water Mirror-smiles..

HEAVEN HERE! AWAITS YOUR MORNING

EYES!


My long shadow. My short life.

WELCOME,ANCESTORS!SOON WE WILL JOIN

YOU!

Even Emptiness has a Moon Flower



Petal Shadows. Gather Flowers. Water Drops/Drip

Clocks.


Curtain Dawn. Clouds Open. Sun RISES!

PRAYERS.GRASS RISING.THIS IS HOW THE

HARVEST PRAYS!

Empty, Abandoned

HOLLOW HOUSES BY THE SIDE OF ROADS

Brambles, plants and trees intertwine

Wooden ,mostly, with broken roofs

I enter as a sanctuary

Relics from another age

sit and wait for time to stop

Stories in the broken mirror

In the saucepan and the pot

I cannot stay forever.

House would haunt me with its song

Time begins when i enter doorways

Walk in to another zone

I cannot hear nor see who lived here

Hollow as a singing bone

For me, it is a time capsule

For Once Upon-this was a Home.

Science Versus Religion at Christmas

THE TIMING OF CHRISTMAS IS WRONG

Think "Solstice"."Yule","Saturnalia"

Think myth and magic ,astrologers visiting

with the first"Xmas"gifts.14 shopping days till

Christmas!

Malls pump out Carols ,Fake Trees and Cloned Santa Clauses

Muzak repeats the worst songs of your growing

It is dark and cold and Light means higher electric

bills


If scientists claimed this Season for Festivus

we could be kind and compassionate to poor and

homeless

without needing a belief system to validate these

actions.

World of refugees and climate denial

World of homeless from hurricanes

World of walls and wars

Let doctors and nurses in to war zones

Make a Marshall Plan for Puerto Rico

Start repairing the damage to people and

infrastructure

Let this Season be one of caring and sharing

You do not need a reason/to be reasonable..



Thom World Poet
Making Friends with Darkness/Silence

SPRING BOUNCES FAST AS YOUTH

Spurts tall stories in hyperbolic exaggeration

Summer is too hot to move/while winter's chill is

cool

Only Autumn Falls between the dreamer and the



dream

Thin horizon line where edges meet, melt, morph

Here we slow. Stop. Take a breath. Life meets death-

first as witness, next as passive participant.

Elders pass, ancestors return. So many lessons to

learn


Only Autumn allows you leaf time-to Fall from World Trees

Meet earth in balance. Feel the grief of loss, then toss

bright hopes into a newer flame/to burn

and light the way for journey into Cave. Night calls

We are afternoon .Sepia. Browns and greens and

russet reds aflame

We burn. Slowly. This thin heat. Illuminates.

Age Is a Dance

WE LEARN THE STEPS OVER YEARS

of spinning round stars both above and around

Bright and light bound, with movement and motion

We are always between, in process, both towards and

away


Our hands stretch towards the sky. Our feet kiss this

Holy Earth.

Every movement has meaning and consequence. Ritual or rote,

we are a drama of sound, song and silence/best

exemplified

via the steps we both love and integrate in to our

lives.

When you move, air moves around you like water.



When you dance, strings are struck that sing your

steps on earth

as this is Heaven, and we weave in wonder when we

walk


and make new and renew our conversation with all

that ever was, is and will be.



Beauty of Darkness

SOLITARY IS A SONG

Mountain for one. Sanctuary. Cave

To withdraw into oneself/find selves

too numerous to count. Their names

no longer matter. Their presence makes multitudes.

Manga. Miracles. Multiplex emojis. Sparks

from that Sufi fire in your warming dervish heart.

Spin , entranced, devotionals. Petal wisdom-

to be connected to all. You are never alone.

You are never only you

Eye Feel There Is a song in everyone”

THAT RESONATES WITH OTHERS(Moon 2 Sun)

That comes out sometimes as a shout/exhiliration

Vibration of an active energy/that spins in silence

Yet seeks Release. As if a top/hat of a Sufi

Exultant &Ecstatic. As if a planet  in a dance.

As if we are possessed of movement and of grace

And speak and sing to ascertain our place. Birds

know!


Call to call, they ask for other birds to respond(and

they do!


You hear them singing each to each/as if their only

song were true..



Lebanon & Palestine

I KNOW THIS WORLD ONLY THROUGH ITS

VOICE

that comes through flowers that sing.



We call them "poets" because we learn their steps

in the dance that has neither limit nor law.

They begin in other tongues-take Mahoud Darwish

(Arabic)


Drought and exile ,essence and appearances.

Palestine through Naomi Shihab Nye(and her

journalist poet father)

And olive trees, rocks, exile. Something in common?

It is not just the music and magic of the language

Description does not change contents.

It is not even the emotions conveyed.

Something more enters the room

whenever a bird wings in/and sings in another

language


Green Music

FOR A LONG TIME WE WOULD TALK TO

TREES-

Or ,rather, "listen to what they had to say"(Bridh



Hancock)

It became apparent they talked among each other

and their root systems supported communication.

Having learned that trees were sentient

we then turned to plants, and their modes of contact.

Like ET and CLOSE ENCOUNTERS, music was

their language

Plants sing in different notes(and they harmonize!

From now on, our language is listening green/with

shades and tones

to ensure connection to a growing green world..

Tara

SHE MAKES HER LIFE INTO A DANCE

Spins like a dervish with a smile

She travels where the Spirit takes

her to the front lines of the future

She often wonders why she is here

Desert Texas/she oasis

Her smile animates all who see

her as Tara, living mystery

Slim and thin enough to be

threading through the Labyrinth

Every daily challenge takes her further

into that Dream World we were born into

She is a Presence in our lives



Her spirit of joy always an ally.

Thom World Poet worldpoet@rocketmail.com

1 Joachim Du Bellay, Les Regrets

2 William Wordsworth, My heart leaps up

3J.D. Salinger, The Catcher in the Rye

4 Seneca, we learn by teaching, Letters to Lucillus, Book I, letter 7, section 8: Homines dum docent discunt

5 Looking for my horse while sitting on it (from the Dutch)

6 “Dare to know”, Horatius. First Book of Letters, also Immanuel Kant in What is Enlightenment? (1784)

7 My faults – from the Confiteor of the Catholic liturgy

8 Idea attributed to Martin Luther

9 Matthew XXV. The Works of Mercy, by the Master of Alkmaar (1504) at the Church of St. Laurence in Alkmaar, Holland, consists of seven wooden panels showing the corporal works of mercy: feed the hungry, give drink to the thirsty, clothe the naked, bury the dead, shelter the traveller, comfort the sick, and ransom the captive.

10 Lucky he who is happy with his fate. Horatius, Satires 1,1,1

11 Leisure with dignity. Marcus Tullius Cicero, Pro Sestio §98

12 Let justice be done, even if the world perishes. Better fiat iustitia, ne pereat mundus. (lest the world perish!)

13 Make haste slowly.

14 In the city and the world.

15 Robert Frost, The Road not Taken

16 Madness, madness, everywhere madness! III. Act.

17 Bread and circus games. Juvenalis, Satires

18 Rilke, first Duino Elegy: “Wer, wenn ich schriee, hörte mich denn aus der Engel Ordnungen?»

19 How very tired of wandering we are, could this be death? – Im Abendrot

20 Ivan Turgenev’s A Month in the Country

21 The girl with the pearl earring. Mauritshuis, The Hague




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