Author: A. Gouedard

The Tourist and Her Toy

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the desert air
that blows across the land
is hot and full of sand
bringing no relief
to sultry streets

the passageways
emptied by siesta
echo to your running feet
rushing down the thousand steps
in and out of shade

the shade is dark, the shade is cold
you run away, while the town is sleeping,
continuing your seeking
leaving me behind
with no promises worth keeping

you thought you’d live your fantasy
you thought you’d find a wild romance
and these narrow streets held magic
i have seen your like before
you come and go like starlings

you only came to play with me
you will always be a tourist
you don’t belong anywhere
i cannot escape from here
your liberty is tragic

Acceptance

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what peace there is
by the fire in the evening
as we sit in a circle together
what joy there is in simple things

late into the night
the firelight glows
i feel my heart expanding
in the blessing music brings

the stars shine high above us
and in all the eyes
i see all around me
that same light shines

after all, most of all
when all is said and done
the stars will all still be there forever
and life is the song that we all share

Wayfarer

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when i am fire
i burn away anger
when i am tree
i bend with the wind
when i am water
i wear away stone
and know all the wise ways of flowing

when i am cat
i narrow my eyes
when i am dog
i am joyfully willing
when i am horse
i turn with the wind
this is my freedom in going

when i am hare
magic is mine
when i am raven
i watch still and clear
when i am wolf
i see who you are
this is the seeing of knowing

i will leap, bend and flow,
run, turn and go
return as i please
see what i see
magnetic paths pull above treetops
clouds cap the mountains that hide me
dark cool shadows in water
hidden things amongst leaves
as i make my own journey
i follow these old ways alone

water is a life giving blessing
the trees shelter us, breathing
the lone wolf protects the pack
energy runs with the horse
the world is mirrored in the eye of the raven
hidden, unhidden, bidden, unbidden
the hare runs the path of the circle unbroken
running fleet foot in pastures and hills
on horseback i chase the illusive hare
while the raven sits still in the oak
and watches, waiting for me

Travellers

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From dolmen and hilltop in sunlight and rain
We travel the path as it opens again.
From mountain to ocean through woodland and glade
The way and the telling are already made.
The circle is whole and the pattern will grow
From time immemorial it’s always been so,
Sharing the joys of a journey that starts
In the melding of minds and the opening of hearts,
Recalling the magics that words cannot say
Finding the wending winds of the way
In the voyage of discovery we know who we are
As we follow the light of the mariners star

I will walk beside you as you walk beside me
Our story is the story that’s unbounded and free

At the Crossing

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something has fallen in the river
it must have been some frantic release
the river bed is all whipped up
and the river looks like mud

some creature that was angry and scared
and doesn’t know how to swim has been here
thrashing about and making a stir
you can’t catch fish that way

falling in from the bank instead of staying there
in a far safer place, in the dry
if you can’t swim you should never jump in
unless you have learned how to float

no point throwing another rope now
the creature is gone

In the Dock

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‘remember you’re loved,’ you said
‘always remember that’
like a life-belt handed before a storm
those storms i never see coming

but what happens
on monday, tuesday,
wednesday, this week
until the weather is fine again
on friday, saturday,
sunday, next week

it’s not about words
but the lack of them
sink or swim
I can’t ask you the reason
you won’t speak
you are floating way off-shore

you leave me
to think
on dry land
to work out
what I did wrong
and when I tell you
you will say
‘no it wasn’t that,
it was this’
something i never thought
something i never did
something misunderstood
you held onto
and kept to yourself

this time i wont think
and you can tell me
or not as you wish
you can tell me
the magic is dead
it’s not dead in my head
it’s not dead in my heart
it’s not dead in the world
it’s sitting waiting
for you to come back
from your sailing trip
so am I

Dragon

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i knew a dragon
as big as a wagon
he couldn’t hide anywhere
so i took him up to a mountain
as far as i know he’s still there
in a cave by a fountain

he is probably brooding
or doodling maps
to the treasure that he keeps
a quill held tight in his claw
as he thinks of old adventures
and the many wonders he saw

if you don’t dream of him
while he dreams of you
there is no need to fear his size
or the fire in his belly and eyes
he is a peaceful dragon
and this poem is full of lies

Me and my Shadow

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thoughts of Peter Pan
his shadow shut inside a drawer
poor fellow, incomplete
no old companion at his feet

and what if all the shadows went
not just your own
imagine a wooded glade
no contrasts there at all
sun shafts and no shade
no place to hide alone
in sweet repose and rest
and in a darkened room by firelight
no shadows dancing on the wall
by shadows we are blessed
where would imagination go
with no escape from endless bright
and crystal clear illumination

I recall a walk long ago
at full moon with my love
as my shadow played with hers
crossing and blending in our path
I wondered if my shadow
was as happy then as I

a childhood friend to play with
my shadow made me think
and wonder at the world
it’s a link to see ourselves
it shrinks and stretches, grows,
depending where we go
my shadow makes me
more aware of light
it connects me to the ground
when the sun is bright

I never see it in my dreams
I wonder what that means
leaving me to sleep
it disappears at night
I wonder where it goes
no-one knows that truth
I only know that when I die
my shadow wont exist
nor me, not I
perhaps we vanish into light