sitting in a room
the room becomes a wood
a wood i know so well
a vague story in my mind
the vision of a path
music and hushed sounds
i light the fire
invite them
i will sit and wait
until they gather round
whispering their tales
taking me to places
i never planned to go
falling from a mountain spring
pouring down the waterfalls
rushing over rock
drumming through the hollows
babbling to the sheep
flowing through the valley
reflecting summer skies
chasing the kingfisher
toward the evening light
hiding here and there
vanished underground
passing through the city
collecting plastic bags
running in the dark
racing through the sluice gates
seeping through the cracks
leaping down the weir
escaping through the park
loitering with ducks
lapped against the bridges
dipped with fishing rods
passing through the village
dithering with frogs
winding through the meadows
dallying with swans
gliding under willows
seeking quiet shade
stroking the salmon
lazed in sunlit pools
growing ever wider
entering the estuary
taken by the tide
i see the river rise
rise and rise again
sustaining every life
lifted by the sun
it reaches to the sky
flies above the mountains
flooding back in rain
pouring down the waterfalls
rushing over rock
a broad green sweep of valley
dark woodlands gathered there
by the rivers curve
nestled far below
above the hills a kestrel calls
sound stretched across still air
the blue grey hills melt away
in a distant milky mist
high above the world i sit
in a place away from care
surrounded by a birch wood
close by a hidden pool
this sun warmed granite ledge
above a grassy stair
lodges like an eagle’s nest
amongst the ancient trees
the oak trees lean together
to form a secret gate
where the hawthorns grow
beside the lofty fir
I lean against the apple tree
and watch the day grow late
no sound but birds and waterfall,
the sighing of the trees
the sun dips down behind the hills
i sit in peace and wait
to see the diamond stars come out
across the web of night
The museum is full of wonders
Egyptian grandeur, ancient glories,
glittering gold and precious gems,
classical Grecian curves and lines,
ever thoughtful, express the divine
illusive time, slowly passing.
Medieval kings, Viking shields and iron swords
delicate work of Saxon silver,
celebrating natures grace,
reflection of a faerie glen
My eyes become so tired of looking.
My feet ache from hard stone floors.
Passing through the Celtic collection
a tiny treasure catches me,
grips me, shackles fast my steps.
I long to hold it,
feeling it belongs to me,
smoothed in the hollow of my hand,
so small, so pure, so simple,
so emotional and loving,
grey stone,
no more than a pebble,
two lovers intertwined,
eternal, sweet embrace.
The museum is full of wonders
Egypts’ grandeur, ancient glories,
glittering gold and precious gems,
classical Greek curves and lines,
expressing divinity,
intricate windings of Saxon silver
with the feel of a faerie glen
My eyes become tired of looking.
My feet start to ache from the floors
by the time I pass through the Celtic collection
where a tiny treasure catches me,
grips me, shackles my steps.
Entranced and longing to hold it
smoothed in the palm of my hand,
so small, so simple, so pure,
so emotional and loving,
grey stone, the size of a pebble,
two lovers intertwined,
in eternal, lasting embrace.
Love this poem – good blog I will be following with pleasure
I have a ballon
Red, naturally
That follows
Wherever I go
I took to calling
It Lucy, and
Let it come into
My home
Now, I’m afraid
I’ve made the most
Grave mistake
Of my whole life
For Lucy won’t leave
She’s always hovering,
Right between me
And my wife
We tried having
A romantic dinner,
Just the two
Of us there
But Lucy
Just wasn’t having it,
So she rubbed me
And clung to my hair
Now, try to imagine
My wife’s distress
It left her
Paleand reeling
When Lucy
Came into the bedroom
That night and stuck
Herself onto the ceiling
“That’s it,”
My wife said,
“I’ve had enough!
This balloon has to go.”
She ran and found
A safety pin
But Lucy
Started to grow
She grew and grew
Until she filled
The room
And I couldn’t breathe
When my wife came back
And pricked her side,
View original post 72 more words
I saw the word
Sister,
full of light,
inscribed on an empty white page,
roundly formed and concise.
Such a lovely word.
It illuminated my night.
If I had a sister what would she say?
I would ask her to come beside me and stay.
I would see the world through her different eyes
and I’d hope that her words would be wise.
I would listen to her advice.
The world is full of ‘Sisters’
That’s what I hear them saying
“Sisters doing it for themselves”
Sisters, Goddesses, Earth Mothers
That’s what I heard them say.
They are better than you or I, little brother.
Little brother, we’re lost.
Yet I can’t help noticing something else.
I see them betray each other,
telling each other lies,
as they warmly embrace and smile.
I see their ambitions writ large
as they stab each others backs
and argue the details of facts,
dividing in feminist factions.
This is sure to be controversial,
But I’d hoped they’d be better than that.
If I had a sister I’d ask her to visit.
I’d hope she was kind,
I’d hope she was honest,
I’d hope she knew how to keep her own promise.
I’d hope she knew the right way, to be strong,
nor precisely the same perhaps,
but the same general direction
as you and I, my brother.
“The sisters of virtue they are not departed or gone.”
Those are some words from an old song.
Perhaps they will cease to subvert each other
the day we all stand up together,
the day we are all clear and strong,
clear, strong and united
with one word writ large on that page
People
against oppression.
People
who love one another.
The Day Moon Met the Raven
A man who had for some time been travelling the road in all weathers, sat down at the roadside under a sheltering tree. His jacket was richly embroidered but his leather boots were dusty and worn from long walking. He had little coin in his purse but his pouch was full of papers covered with poems and interesting thoughts gathered here and there. He was tired, too tired to even be capable of assessing his own mood at that moment. He was, he thought, probably content.
As the sun sank and dusk fell he looked up and saw the moon rise and he realised that it was the Autumn Equinox, when the length of the day and the night, darkness and light, are equal. As he relaxed and watched the moon climb higher into the sky his mind drifted and he began to assess his own life, dispassionately. His memory drifted here and there across many years.
Awakening from his trance he realised that he had been joined by a white cat and a raven. He thought they must be hungry and began to feel in his pocket for food of some kind but the Raven, seeing his intention, said,
”Sir, don’t let us trouble you, for we are not hungry. We came to sit beside you only because your appearance interested us.”
With that, they began to discuss him as if he was not there, but also as though they could read all his thoughts.
The cat said ”He seems to me a miserable man with a sad life. Look at his boots and the lines that run down by the sides of his mouth, Raven, and he clearly has no money. I would say he is a terrible failure. He has nothing. He looks homeless and I am convinced he has no wife and no children.”
She paused to clean an ear with her paw and looked thoughtful.
” I expect he has travelled much too, and those types who keep feeling the need to move on seldom manage to keep many friends. Doubtless he is also unemployed or he wouldn’t be sitting here dreaming. It all looks like doom and gloom to me. How very sad! ”
”Squawk,” said the Raven, cocking his head at the man and considering, ” I see him quite differently. I see a man with laughter lines round his eyes and he clearly loves beauty, just look at the jacket he wears! And he may not have much in the way of coin but he is generous with what he does have or he would not have begun to search for food when he saw us. He is kind I think. He does seem to have a lot of papers in his pouch and I suspect, by the dreamy look in his eyes, that they are poems so maybe he has, not a job, but a talent. Also he is tall and strong and I doubt he lacks for food. I suspect he is also armed, a dagger slipped into his boot perhaps.”
The Raven hopped onto the man’s shoulder to get a closer look. The man smiled at that.
”As for being much travelled, well yes, but is it really true to say that a rolling stone gathers no moss? True, he probably has left friends and loved ones behind, but just imagine all he has seen on the way and all of the people he has met. I think he has had a rich life and must be happy and could even be congratulated.”
The Raven and the Cat then proceeded to squabble and the man feared the Raven might be eaten, so he spoke.
”May I interject in this argument for the sake of your peace?”
”Yes, please do”, said the Raven, hoping for an end to the fight and some wisdom.
”I suppose so” said the Cat, shrugging and sounding gloomy, ”Much good may it do, for I expect none.” She sat grooming herself again, looking bored.
”Well” said the man, ”It seems to me that you both see things from only one point of view. You, dear Cat, are entirely negative and this charming Raven sees only the good and the positive in all.”
”So”, said the Cat, expecting to lose the argument, ”Tell me I am wrong then. Go on.”
At that the Raven looked pleased but sighed in a way only a bird can.
”The truth is,” said the man, ”that you are both right but without each other you are both wrong.”
”How so Sir?” said the Raven, looking puzzled.
”I am both happy and sad.” the man replied, ”The sum of all you say is true. But if only the negative was true I would just sit here and give up and if only the positive part were true then I would have learned nothing. The positive and the negative work together in my life. Joy is my desire and I have often had it but I know that sorrow, which I also have had, can bring depth to feeling and we can’t appreciate the one without the other. So I sit in the middle and am content. We all need balance!”
With that, the man stood up.
”I will continue my journey now”, he said. ”I wish you both well and safe paths.”
The cat turned her back and pretended to look at something else, as Cats always do when embarrassed and the Raven said,
”Sir I will come with you if I may. I have always liked travel. I sense that you are restless at night and perhaps when you are tired I can lighten your day?”
The man smiled and nodded his head. As he began to walk off he said, under his breathe,
‘’Gold leaves spin, falling, bringing sadness and delight. The balance is held.’’
impatient for your arms again i rise
to sit and watch your secret sleeping eyes
what dream is this that keeps you lingering there
with smiling parted lips and tender sighs
what joy in sleep so fills your captured heart
while i wait here alone, to watch apart
and gaze upon your much loved gentle face
more lovely than a work of perfect art
i wander in the garden late at night
to gather perfumed roses, pink and white,
while I my patient lovers vigil keep
to bring your morning wonder and delight
the dark, the stars, the moon are gone away
across your sleepy pillow sunbeams play
in this new world refreshed, renewed, be mine
awaken to another golden day
you have stood on this ledge
in the mountains above,
on the edge of the forest,
ever since i was only an innocent child
listening to stories and scribbling poems
my spine rested against your strength
you stood, the same
in sunlight and starlight
in wild winds and rain
while I wandered about in the wood
finding the well trodden paths
getting lost but finding the way again
warm-hearted, abundant,
and welcoming still
I thank you for bringing me home
The Dreaming Path 