Celestial Sound 

The thrumming of tires on the street

The chirping of birds in summer skies

Heaven’s rhythm, tapping feet

Watery hymns flowing from my eyes
Wa-thump beating in my chest

To the music of the spheres 

Unstruck chord will never rest

Silver bells tinkle in astral ears
Roaring drums and thundering gongs

A plaintive flute, soft and low

Listen, listen to Love’s songs

Celestial hums, like a river, flow

2016 Cronin Detzz 


35,000 Feet Over Tennessee 

​There’s a girl at a piano

Chestnut ringlets around her face

Smiling at her sheet music 

Writing her perfect notes into place
A tired old man, dingy white shirt

Sinks into the grooves of his chair

Dishes piled high in the sink

Since Beth died, he just doesn’t care
A toddler chases his puppy

Together they find a field of clover

His mamma marvels at his energy 

Wishes this day would never be over
A war veteran stares at his I.V. drip

The sudden blast still etched on his brain

His legs will recover, someday

But his mind will never be the same
A sophomore sprints across campus

Earbuds shoved away in a hurry

Not sure if he picked the right major

And that last test has him lost in worry
And then there’s me, flying alone

knowing He sees this all

He saw my rise, my accomplishments,

He catches me when I fall
How would I appear to those who see?

An astral projection of both loss and glory?
A woman with dark chasms in her aura 

Who lost her son too soon 

Who grieves her boy every moment 

Loving him from here to the moon
But her story ain’t over yet

She has to go on living awhile 

Ashes in pocket, Chicago in a locket

Thankful for 18 years of his smile
2016 Cronin Detzz (On my way to Chicago with my son’s ashes. I intuited that I was over Tennessee, getting images of people below. Flight tracker confirmed it was Tennessee)

As Above: Understanding Poetry

As Above
I dreamt the world was sleeping
And awoke to find it true
Reality is worn like a straight jacket
until they awake and see You

I swam in a summer ocean
and a current ripped me away
Paddling against the raw power
You lifted me up to live another day

The convict, the jailer, the judge
The ocean, the dreamer, and me
All are drenched in your essence
Born blind of your divinity

I sang a song of eternal hope
I smiled at a mirror of love
This world is a film negative
And as below, so above
2016 – Cronin Detzz

There is a saying that goes: As above, so below. Could the reverse also be true?

That’s the creamy center of a poem. An impactful poem will have a central idea. Identify what you are trying to say and your message will get through to your reader. 

Whether our current existence is reality is an intriguing idea. I like to think that when we are dreaming, that is our reality. When we wake up, we recognize that indeed, we were dreaming and our daily lives become our new reality. When we die, will we experience the same awakening?  Will we say, “Ah, yes. Now I see. My time on earth was just a dream, and my nightly somber was just a dream within a dream.”

What do you think? I’d love to hear from you.

Keep writing and keep sharing! – Cronin Detzz


Cracked Phone

My battery is dead
My earbuds are tangled
My screen is cracked
My hope is mangled

My oven is just an ember
Freezer door is frozen shut
Like a needle on a record
Stuck in a spiraling rut

It’s an election year
Promises poured into my ear
They live on another planet
And anyway I can’t hear

I kicked depression out
A long time ago
She stalks me like a viper
With a sad afterglow

Cataracts form black holes
Yet I see crispness anyway
Only by the grace of God & Red Bull
Do I rise to battle another day
2016 Cronin Detzz


Pinesol Warrior

Between the dark matter of nothing
and the supreme light of God
a pile of dishes must be washed

One soul cries from a pit of despair
another soul cries from the glory of heaven
and I fold a pile of laundry

I wish to be neither and I wish to be everything
I wish to merge into the sublime bliss of love
but a hiccup brings me to now and I sweep the floor

Wondering why enlightenment requires the mundane

Why my journey requires toothaches and dust bunnies

I’m an odd kind of spiritual soldier who battles toothpaste spray on mirrors
Who travels to exotic places like grocery stores
Slaying the beasts with ironing boards of justice
Dousing the evil with Pinesol
Victorious in the daily battles, struggling in the nightly meditations between the sublime and the ridiculous
– Cronin Detzz



Poem: Water Avatar's Dream by Cronin Detzz
Poem: Water Avatar’s Dream by Cronin Detzz

724,000 years ago, I stood near my lake

I longed to drink, but had no thirst to slake

I gazed at my reflection, shimmering back at me

Blue of skin, like the sky and sea


My dharma was water

My dharma was to sustain

My power: locked in the waves

My power: released in the rain


~~ Holding the cosmos together

through the gift of water ~~


In those peaceful, misty days

I grew restless in the watery haze

My dream of being human thus burst

to feel the damp!  to swim with fish!

to quench a thirst!  my only wish!


The Bringer of Light granted my desire

And I was born into a fire

A bucket of water dampened the blaze

My soul briefly few back to halcyon days


But again and again I was reborn

stuck in the wheel of earthly form

My water lords and my astral kin

dessicated the water that cleanses my sin


“I long to return to my sparkling cave,

and leave far behind earth’s watery grave”


the Lord of Lords heard my plea

threw me into a poet’s aching body

sent me away to distant, dry lands

tossed me onto Nevada’s scorching sands


Never again

will I stray from home

Always, amen

bathe in the wonderful waterfall of Om

– Cronin Detzz

Inspiration:  during a meditation, I imagined regressing into a past life as an Avatar representing water.  I don’t know where the era of 724,000 years came from, but it is best to trust your muse and write whatever surfaces without censoring thoughts too much.  One of the important tactics in overcoming writer’s block is to honor the creative process and write the words that come to you.  Don’t get stuck in edit mode for too long.  Keep writing & keep sharing! – Cronin Detzz 


The byzantine way of the ant
is slow and arduous
tedious and treacherous
Marching onward with his grain of food
hoping that he knows the way home

We hear the rain pattering on the roof
while the ant hears ant-sized water droplets
pummeling his armor
flooding his path home

Like a warrior, he marches on
tunneling in the dark, if he must
still carrying his parcel
dodging the horrific cannon balls of rain drops
never losing faith that he can make it home

O! If I had the faith of that ant
pressing on, dodging the difficulties of my life
carrying the parcel of my soul
believing that I am armored and protected
knowing that I am never alone, wherever I roam
and I could, finally at last, reach my beloved home

11/28/13 – Cronin Detzz

Photo copyright David Cobbold
Way of The Ant