* Angel poems : Personal Poetry by an Archangel *

The River runs through, and all the birds, and horses too. A Sun will always shine, though the day dim and the night begin, in the Hope of a new morning, coming down. At last the fields are green and the air is fresh, and all the world is magical. I breathe it, free.

Existence Christ consciousness Behind all activities angels are operating esp dreams. My Waratah offers this to you. My Lotus nurtures this in you. This Body of Love. Wave after wave rolls onto the shore, and the foghorns celebrate. cicadas too. The pages turn over, all in the mix , ‘cooking, all angels together, One, on your birthday, singing loudly(as in cathedral), Success (for you) is in sight, breathing. Ancestral Earth Heart emissions.

Rising-  on the Wind,   in the House-  of the Sun,   in the Moment-  of the Breath,  in the Heart-  of the Love-not-Lost,  Drinking from the Cup,  of the Earth,  and Heavenly Lights, and the Angels.

in an instant the sun rises and the sun sets, it is gone. I am Hope. I reside     in the realms           of all Hearts, and I pray        for them. I am the Beginning          of all Joy. and I shall not end. Ever.   

Sailing across oceans deep and strong, and the moon  smiles. I am with you. I love you, yes.

A song of Promise and a joy of Pride. like a flower I open and close and then my heart soars. Deep in the heart is a beautiful lake and a bird is living there, so pure.

when the Wave clears and  A new Sun arises, and the Coming is oh so close, Hosts of Angels with surround Earth's fields and a new Chart, of the Ways will be Known. O Seeker of Truth.

Positive waves of Love encircling Earth Hearts All One. An angel carries you across Waters Green. A Moon day lasts for Ages. and then is gone, to return again in its Time.

The air is breathing,  and I am breathing and I love to breathe. I see songs dancing and birds sipping nectar frm the lonely trees and flowers. And when a bird rises in flight I feel joy and light and I want to sing.

In swimming there is a joy. like a butterfly swims in the air I am swimming. on  the sand and on the shore, I  see waves and they are swimming, too.

in the true light of the morning           a day begins       and the mist creeps in. The light of the stars has fallen and the grass rises up with the dew. In the birdsong and frogs chorus the night beckons and the moon gleams. An answer is always round the corner, and true meetings are here, fields and horses, bush and gully clouds and wind winners all. Daybreak comes around again.

  a rose    is everything                        to be, an ancient song of life                               and hope. An artist will paint. and a singer will sing             but a rose is a rose is a rose. None can change its nature                    but all will see it                                    differently. Ask but not less          of thyself            and thy weaknesses.

heaven forebears; poem a little bird flew over a big tree.  a canary it did sing.  two worms were listening, such a sweet song.  and a leaf fell to the ground.  Heaven forebears.

An angel holds   a bouquet of flowers. There is a wedding in heaven. An artist paints this scene and says”howdo?’ Then all the clouds are happy clouds, dancing.

when all the leaves on all the trees have fallen to the ground, soaked, I could not paint your love nor express my sympathy. where the eagles fly          and the crows craw. an angel comes visiting across the stages of life, Remember? and then the answers are all released though the days are not known. Take a step- take the steps.

Hubbub is somewhere. Nature is here. She is not aging.

each Day has a beautiful gift. it chases me. At sunrise , and sunset, it waits  on  me.

                                                            Alo-a in esprit. In waves and torrents, in winds and storms, in roaring silence, in shells, in lovers, walking on beaches, dancing with dolphins, waves and rebellion, Look in,           at me. for Gloria

To dance is to swing Is to ask  to be true A bird  flies across the day, And an angel  listens  wholeheartedly. Sufficiency.   for Corrinne age 46.

--> For Bob, on his passing, So it begins, listening to the sounds of the day one learns the value of variety one ;learns spontaneity and one undergoes change for the better. The moon has a perfume, and the day is  along mistress confining you to her chambers. Let her be, and delve into her realms, her fairy realms, her waxing realms, her delight. She is the beginning. So begins. Listen to this here.