Author: A. Gouedard

When the blackbird sings

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You tell me of bad weather news
And how the price of food went up.
You quote the words of politicians,
I agree they’re open lies.
You worry there will be a drought.
I think about the falling rivers
And how the willows give it shade.
My mind begins to drift.

I know my eyes are far away.
I try to hold on to your words
Like broken branches floating by.
I sense a sigh you’re holding in.
Yes,
I’m doing it again.
I smile and look in your eyes,
Signifying my return.

You speak about the greater issues,
How your life is troubling you.
I nod.
You know I understand.
It’s true that life is problematic.
It’s true I’m tired of being strong.
I wish to tightly grasp your hand
And take you through another door,
The door that’s slowly opening now,
That leads into another land.
I hear your words,
I hear a song,
That echoes in the depth of pools.

There’s only one place left to hide.
The leaves are growing up our walls,
There’s mud and ash across the floor.
The wind that’s blown the window wide
Brings a scent of woodland paths
And bluebells by the flowing stream.
I can hear the blackbird now,
It signals that it’s time to leave.
My heart is very far away.
I dream of other worlds.
I’ve seen.

A Poets Gift (written when I was told to advertise)

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I offer air and dust
a gift not lightly given
sealed tight inside a beating heart
and gathered by my eyes
dust is dust of mother earth
the ground you stand upon
with the very air you breathe
that bears an angels wings
disguised against the sky

this gift I bring
has never cost me anything
but a wandering mind
that haunts my nightly dreams
to find sweet beauty in the dark
and plays at hide and seek
through real, unreal and in-between
to find a spark divine

the words are never mine
they’ve all been used before
that’s how a poet lives
our store is hand to mouth
like beggars on the street
whose worth comes with no price
we search to find our sight
the work is not complete

A Bards Lament

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did we survive so long in hardship
with arrow, quiver, toil and song
to reach a place, where all’s forgotten,
no honour held in memory,
of how they worked to make us strong?
I remember some of them

my family fought for generations
for a cause we know is just
we rose, we fell, we rose again
our banners both of air and dust

the tales i know will pass away
unwritten in the ancient books

were our dreams so misbegotten
that we face a future here
where nature’s treasures are befouled
and horrors rob this lovely place?

virtue’s lost and hides its face
in sorrow for a world held dear

dust is dust
air is air
dust floats on the air

Turn and Return ( a doubled Etheree)

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the unwounded self, at the heart, is still
in response to circumstance we turn
between the worlds we move as one
chased along by thrusting time
only surface changes
perhaps forever
as i will be
as i was
i am
now
gone
and dead
if you are
in cold despair
i am alone here
we turn it round in faith
life runs like a salt hour glass
hours and days pass us by with speed
which world is real is a mystery
there is an open door between two worlds
there is an open door between two worlds
which world is real is a mystery
hours and days pass us by with speed
life runs like a salt hour glass
we turn it round in faith
i am alone here
in cold despair
if you are
dead and
gone
now
i am
as i was
as i will be
perhaps forever
only surface changes
chased along by thrusting time
between the worlds we move as one
in response to circumstance we turn
the unwounded self, at the heart, is still

Facing the Witch

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Sharp-tongued, bad-tempered,
Baleful with knowledge,
Ambitious witch,
A fervent desire burns in her eyes.
With charms written backwards,
She gives us long tasks.

We perform.
It’s her will.

We sit at the cauldron stirring dark liquids
As moons chase sun after sun from the hills.

The cauldron is split.
She screams in her fury.
Vicious elixir spills out on the land
Poisoning horses,
Parching the lake.
All of her wishes taken from her.

Disappointed, tyrannical mother,
Who spurs on her children, as if to their ruin,
Giving, by this, the magical spark
The three precious drops
Bright knowledge and wisdom
Three drops to shine in the pitiless dark.

For this she will chase you.
Chase you through dreams.
There is no escape from her dark self-esteem

Turning to meet her, tired of the race,
Looking the dark hag straight in the face
My eyes newly opened
I see there another
A goddess
A mother
Spinning a wheel and harvesting grace.

Beneath her dark robes is a glimmering brightness,
A fire that transforms, ignites and inspires.
Her curse marks the path to all of her blessings
And opens the way to visions of light
At the heart of this beautiful chalice of night.

The gifts

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She gave me the simple gift of a daisy

that shone in the sun for one day, long ago.

He gave me a strong staff to walk the wild hills,

I am walking them now, wondering still.

Both gifts are of equal value to me.

For these gifts, in return, I invited them home.

When the night falls the twins of the heavens hang high above

Symbolic stars in a union of love.

Girl in a Garden #1

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the girl runs from house to garden
from garden to house and back again
thinking only of running
thinking only of the garden and the house
this house, this garden
the breeze and the sunlight pooled on the grass
and the swaying of the poplar trees

she has no memory of any other place
or time
the delusions of the world  unravelled
unspun they slipped away
this world complete enough

Woops! Let’s go cavorting! (silly one)

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woopie-doo-dah, doo-dah-day
let’s fly, and fly, fly far away,
over the hills, a far flung thing

who’s to reason or wonder why?
i see no reason here to stay
i can hear the fairies sing!

have you forgotten we once flew?
the hour is late but not too late
i have a wish for morning dew
and mountains high
and rushing rivers wide and deep
and the holy grass beneath my feet
deep in the woods
where the shadows play

come prepared
follow the hare
spin three times
bow to the moon
here comes the breeze
here comes the spin
whirling like leaves up to the sky
the wind that’s strong will lift us high
but don’t let it blow your top knot off!

Not Hers

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don’t let all i do be about her
we all have a past,
it’s passed

i know how rejection feels
and the pangs of an unhealed wound
and a skin still sorely scarred

now you prick your finger on nothing
the thorns in the roses are gone
i cut them away, with precision

my thoughts are wrapped up in you
spilling onto the page
hidden in hundreds of words

don’t let her be the ghost
that walks through our rooms
shattering dreams

the vase in the house is full
with flowers of many seasons
picked and arranged for you

she was only a daisy,
crushed under your foot,
never a full blown rose