Jeffrey Phillips Freeman discussing Bioalgorithms, Machine Learning, Computer Science, Electrical Engineering, HAM Radio and everything science.

The Mage's Tavern

In misty lands that the pale moonlight brings,
There stands a tavern where it shines and it sings.
In this warm place eternal laughter does flow;
with a smile for each of the winds that will blow.

To seek this land out less must be so much more,
then set yourself free to drift to night’s shore.
The familiar road finds unfamiliar friends door,
filled with mirth, merriment, magick, and lore.

When ready to pass open wide wooden gate,
a cool wind then blows that shows one their fate.
The room there well lit by passion’s great fire,
it’s smoke will hang thick from our love’s own desire.

There in the sky dances god borealis,
and there on the bar sits the bust of the Pallas.
But never there seen is the raven of yore,
for only the wise can be king evermore.

There in the corner stands a gargoyle’s head,
where out of it’s mouth flows hot earthen lead.
Into a dirt cup it’s flow does seek end,
but as shining gold it does then transcend.

The food and the drink shared to all those around,
Not one to the other was any one bound.
With plates of clear manna that did sparkle white,
and cups of ambrosia kept full through the night.

Here pixie’s dust used in shakers to fill,
and surely dragon tails do remain in there still.
For what fool would eat from a dragon’s great tail,
only to have all of their passions fail.

Moon’s magick glow fills the room well dispersed,
While time’s wanting path remains untraversed.
The moments found here are well unrehearsed;
The truth is abound, not found interspersed.

In this place here exists just the one,
Embrace silver moon, to become golden sun.
Odal reunites ancient gods of the night,
to let us be one, so we shine with their light.

–Jeffrey Phillips Freeman

I wrote a new poem. Not surprisingly to many of you it was again inspired by the wonderful Amanda and the most recent weekend I spent with her. She had a dream of a magickal tavern she told me about when I went to see her this weekend. As we enjoyed the weekend, oddly, it seemed to only reflect the energy from her dream. The following night I had a dream of the same place as the one from her dream. I wrote this poem to represent both the feelings from this weekend that borrows elements from the dream itself.

The Seas of Time

I hear the waves crashing on time’s distant shore.
Its salty mist hangs in the air.
I can taste its dry burning on my tongue.
Feel its sticky film on my skin.
It coats every surface,
fills every space.
I invite it into my body with each breath,
though it burns like acid.

Yet I welcome its relaxing song.
With its hypnotic ebb and flow,
it calls me to a peaceful sleep.
With no destination,
always in motion,
always alive.

As I stand at the water’s edge.
With every crash of the waves.
My feet sink deeper into the sand.
My heart slows.
My mind drifts off.
The cool waters wash over me.

Cradled by the sand’s embrace,
the world fades,
time washes away.
Leaving me to drift,
peacefully,
in the waters of time.
In this moment,forever.

By: Jeffrey Phillips Freeman

After seeing Amanda last Sunday I felt inspired to write this poem. It represents how sometimes I have been troubled by either the past or the future. But because of her I find myself no longer troubled by such things. We have always found ourselves peacefully adrift in the moment, and last time I saw her reminded me of that

A Warrior Bold

This was the song my grandfather used to sing to me as kid. He used to sing it with his army buddies during World War II.

In days of old, when knights were bold,
And barons held their sway,
A warrior bold, with spurs of gold,
Sang merrily his lay;
Sang merrily his lay:
“My love is young and fair,
My love hath golden hair,
And eyes so blue, and heart so true,
That none with her compare.
So what care I tho’ death be nigh,
I’ll live for love or die.
So what care I, tho’ death be nigh,
I’ll live for love or die.”

So this brave knight, in armor bright,
Went gayly to the fray;
He fought the fight, but ere the night,
His soul had pass’d away,
His soul had pass’d away.
The plighted ring he wore
Was crush’d and wet with gore,
Yet ere he died, he bravely cried,
“I’ve kept the vow I swore.
So what care I tho’ death be nigh,
I’ve fought for love and die,
So what care I, tho’ death be nigh,
I’ve fought for love, for love I die
I’ve fought for love,
For love, for love I die.”

–Edwin Thomas & Steven Adams, Published 1912

The Fire

I completed my first poem in 2 years last night. Id love any objective feedback anyone has for me.

With arms outstreched, still too far to hold.
The moon’s light touching my weary hand;
as ice melting through clenched fingers.
My soul is a fire and its warmth betrays me.

But fire is light
bathe in the light;
and glow from its warmth.

Don’t curse the moon because the sun has set.
Reach for its cold light
and give it your heat
For when it has melted away,
leaving your hands cold and dry,
the sun will rise,
and you will bathe in its warmth.

By: Jeffrey Phillips Freeman

The Angel with Cracked Wings

Light pierces through wind torn holes.
My eyes ache adjusting to the light.
Shapes and figures barely formed.
A sweet scent calls me forward.
But I know nothing of the day;
like a blind man,
seeking the sight he once knew.

But it is not in the light one finds sight.
It is in the darkness.
Here the sightless have sight.
Those who see are lost.
In this place beauty is more than a word,
more than a thing to look upon.
It is the essence of our soul.
Our own personal angel.

Rise then!
Lift yourself up!
To the clouds where angels sing.
Embrace your wind torn wings and soar once more.
For only with a heavy heart shall you be bound to the dirt.
Fly ever higher towards the sun.
Embrace its life giving warmth;
and in this place,
your happiness,
your heart,
your love,
will know no bounds.

By: Jeffrey Phillips Freeman

2nd poem I’ve written recently. Took me just a few minutes to write but I think its one of my best poems. It was inspired by Amanda.

In Days of Old

In days of old, with heart so bold;
when courage finds its way.

A man comes forth who finds his worth,
in love and righteous action.

With strength of heart he fulfills his part,
and confronts the popular passion.

Fighting long and strong in a world gone wrong;
the masses fight and plunder.

Finding worth in one, then hope did come,
the masses pushed asunder.