I just finished the sequel to Raven and Storyteller – this moment !
I do have to do a final edit of course but that’s the easiest part :)
Author: A. Gouedard
cherry blossom
hear how the nightingale calls
as in the night the cherry blossom falls
to spread a carpet before your feet
the bowl of the night surrounds you
holding you in an embrace so complete
it astounds you
Autumn
I sit in the window alone
above the darkened garden
and the lamplit streets
that lead to the far away hills.
The lamp behind me
casts my own shadow down
onto the empty lawn.
A passing stranger looks up,
hurries on and is gone.
A father carries his daughter home.
She droops on his shoulder, asleep.
The only sound is the traffic
and a party and laughter,
distant, along the street.
The moon is hidden by billowing cloud.
The stars up above are unseen.
Looking down to the gloom of the garden
I take comfort
in only the smallest things –
a frail light that shines on apple tree leaves
and the sweet, gentle autumn air.
Nanswhyden
The white gate stands, closed,
at the top of the grey winding road.
The broad green slopes of the pasture
lead down to the shining lake,
a silvered mirror to sunlight.
At first dawn the vale fills with mist.
A line of treetops, drawn on white,
with a tender brush, nothing more.
All is hidden. Nothing exists here now.
It waits to be born with the sun.
An ancient woodland sits in shadow,
deep at the edge of the valley,
where the cry of the circling kestrel
splits the air. He calls to his mate aloft.
The sound defines the distance.
On a hot summer day
the grey road burns and shimmers,
running past old stone walls and banks of wild flowers,
wilting, in afternoon heat.
My feet on the road raise fine dust.
Woven into these hills the grey road runs down
past ruined ivy clothed archways.
They stand alone in a field,
all that remains of a mansion,
a home, and people long gone.
Beyond, is the farmhouse,
built of timber and granite.
It sits as if rooted in earth
nested into a curve,
strong enough to withstand any storm.
In the farmyard the mud is baked hard.
The old sheep dog twitches one ear as I pass.
He knows me too well to rise. He is tired.
His thick coated son wags his tail at me.
He is always on guard.
I walk on past my own cottage door
into a grove of birch saplings,
mingled with older trees, cedar and oak.
In spring this place is flooded with vibrant blue,
the sharp, pungent scent of bluebells fills the air.
In this magical wood, at the far end,
I have often glimpsed the fair folk.
They don’t chase me away. I leave them in peace.
This is a place where two worlds cross.
The door is held open, and welcome.
Now I come to rest in the shade
on this burning bright summer day.
I lean my back against the moss clad old oak
and dream the rest of the day away,
long past this, and every other, evening.
The old standing stone, at the heart of the valley,
remains always cool to the touch.
At night when the stars are out, in moonlight,
the stone is encircled, embraced by a perfect bowl
of such beauty, it takes away my breath.
On the Green Hill
she comes to me after midnight,
whispering soft in my ear
her face full of moonlight,
her dress pale blue
starlight glints in the weave
i almost understand her whispered words
in a language i once knew
she tries to tell me stories,
lost long ago in sleep,
stories i lost in a dream,
stories inscribed on a unicorns horn
and the print of a satyrs hoof
i gather a word here and there
i store them away with care
but all the next day i long for her
my heart is bewitched, enthralled
I long for the night on the hill in the wood
The Green Dress
Flora was the prettiest girl in the village. She was known for her friendliness and free spirit and her very sunny smile. Sam admired her very much and thought she would make the perfect wife to help him run the local tavern, of which he was the landlord. She had all the right qualities.
They hadn’t been married very long when he told her lovingly that he sometimes felt anxious for her safety when she was out alone.
”I worry so when you come through the woods – could you not use the village road instead?”
Flora said, ”Well yes I suppose I could but I love the woods. You have no need to worry.”
”I may not need to worry” said Sam, ”But that’s how I feel and I can’t stop it. If you cared how I feel you would take the village path.”
Flora did care how Sam felt and she thought it wouldn’t be so hard to do what he wanted and so she agreed and she no longer went to the woods. Time spent amongst trees had lifted her spirits. She missed them. But she loved Sam and his feelings were more important too her.
A few weeks later Sam said, ”You know, I really think you talk to the men in the bar too much. It makes a bad impression.”
”I am only being friendly,” Flora replied.
”It’s more than friendly,” said Sam. ”You laugh too loud and do all you can to attract their attention. It hurts me to see it.”
”I am so sorry,” said Flora. ”Don’t be jealous. I love you.”
”I am not jealous,” said Sam, ”It hurts me to see you making such a fool of yourself and the men will take advantage of you.”
Flora felt guilty and stopped laughing in the bar altogether and she kept her eyes down and only smiled a little when serving the drinks.
She decided to make a special chicken dinner as it was Sam’s favourite. She wanted to make him happy.
At the end of the meal he said, ”That was delicious but please don’t suck the bones so. It’s irritating.”
Flora was unhappy. She felt so often criticised but little by little she changed to please him.
One day in the village she saw a lovely dress in the shop and decided to buy it. It would cheer her up and please Sam too. The dress was a soft green, her favourite colour. It reminded her of the woods she missed so much.
That evening she wore the dress to surprise Sam. After she had cooked dinner she went and put it on and came to the table wearing it. But instead of being pleased Sam said, ”Flora you know I don’t mind you spending money but I really think you should have asked me what I thought of the dress first before you decided to buy it. I might have suggested a different colour. Don’t you even care what I think?”
”Of course I care,” said Flora, looking down.
She never wore the dress again. She didn’t feel comfortable in it. A month later Sam asked where it was and said it was a waste of money to buy a dress and not wear it. She never bought a dress again, without asking Sam first.
One night in the bar an old friend of Sam’s said how lucky he was to have married Flora, her being a good cook and all, and Sam replied,
‘Yes she is. She ain’t the girl I married though. I don’t know why. She used to be adventurous and laugh a lot, I liked that about her. She doesn’t smile like she used to either. Changed she has. That’s the trouble – you marry ’em and then they don’t make any effort no more”
Grasshoppers & Locusts
The Grasshopper is a solitary and pretty creature who does little but eat and wanders through grasses and chirrup. But pressed by hunger in barren land it will scurry to any place where food remains – and so do all the other Grasshoppers! This creates a crowd and they all push and shove against each other to eat and survive and in so doing they tickle each others legs.
Now you might think that this would make them feel merry and frolicsome, but No! not the Grasshopper! For this constant crowded tickling turns him into a Locust! He becomes quite ugly and sprouts wings and rushes off in flight with his fellows and they greedily eat everything in their path. Everyone hates them.
Given help from nature and a situation of peace and calm to gather our thoughts in contemplation we can all find our way back to our more beautiful manifestations and so does the Grasshopper, I am glad to tell.
For when he is full and no longer starving he, being naturally solitary, wanders away again from his fellows and wonder of wonders, away from the crowd with all tickling ended, he becomes once again the chirruping green fellow we all know and love (well, I love them and hope you do too).
So, if your brother or sister turns ugly, greedy and generally nasty and pushes to grab everything and seems to be changing from the beautiful person you know (they may even grow dark stripes and wings, who knows) consider the Grasshopper and give him the food of kindness until he feels full again and also the blessings of space and peace and soon he will chirrup again.
Life can transform us all. If we are unwitting or pressed by harsh circumstance we may become things we would not want to be. Desperation to survive can cause extremes. Take care of the Grasshopper.
a ditty
there’s no shortage of sadness
– install a switch of gladness
to run all the happiest snapshots, quick,
it’s a very effective mood changing trick
analysis is all a theory
likely to make you feel dreary
at worst it may lead to madness
– so press that button dearie!
Making Music
the joy, the thrill, the exaltation
when all our harmonies are right
as we weave around each other
moving in and out, the tune delights
we change the key, we change the mood
the mysteries of the minor drop
all the wistfulness and beauty
that makes us conscious of our loss
you bring the chords to a crescendo
i swoop the violin above
circling in a spiral, upward,
a melody of endless love
now the music plays itself through us
this is not our composition
it is handed down in trust
as we open wide our hearts
faster still, with wild abandon,
played in perfect resolution
at last a passage strong and tender
ending on a single note
tumbled
transformed by strong waves
cragged rock is smoothed to round stone
grit becomes pure pearl
The Dreaming Path 