Author: A. Gouedard

Tamara’s magic tower ( written in response to My Dragon)

/ A. Gouedard / Leave a comment

Lady Tamara Winterwolf's avatarLady Tamara Winterwolf's Nightflight

~Tamara’s magic tower~

Step by step, higher and higher,

Take my hand and close your eyes.

Let us leave all the known behind,

And start climbing the silver stairs .

The air is glistening and sweet-scented ,

The hard morter of the floor is gone.

Walls are made by singing birds

Ceiling twinkles with thousand stars.

We climb and never reach the end,

The silver dust shines on our lashes.

We smile to the faeries dancing on flowers ,

One little cloud nymph starts to sing.

Keep your eyes closed and stay with me,

The tower of beauty is forever inside us.

They fooled us by saying the magic was gone,

It’s them who lost it with their closed hearts.

Come to the desert with me, be a child again,

We shall walk barefoot on the warm sands,

Ride our horses over enchanted oasis.

Smile and dance all through the…

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My Dragon

/ A. Gouedard / 1 Comment

there is a good reason
fairy tale lovers often live
in high towers
with a thick wood all around
they may need a drawbridge
and a watery moat
to keep a troublesome world out

i don’t know
how to drop the portcullis
the wheel is too big to turn it about
but you have your silver dust
in a pouch from the faeries
and i have a dragon
that’s always on guard

he may speak with soft words
but he sleeps with one eye wide open
and the other half closed

Guarded

/ A. Gouedard / Leave a comment

it’s not what people say
it’s what they do
i am taking a long look,
a dispassionate view

no high ideals, no altruism here
no respect for heartfelt commitment and love
self-preservation is all that we have
the changeable masks of the hawk and the dove

i am beyond reach
on my fortress rock
no one should request
the key to my lock

enclosed

/ A. Gouedard / Leave a comment

silent as the inside of a turtles shell

lost on an island, washed by no wave

the question is how to swim back

when you’re cut off, alone and adrift

 

you might think its lonely,

you could say that it is,

but if it was wouldn’t I speak

not sit here sadly quietly withdrawn

 

don’t reach your hand inside my armour

i have waited far too long to be touched

nothing’s  within todays carapace

you won’t find me there, so try not to look

 

Springs Fanfare

/ A. Gouedard / 1 Comment

when spring returns her dress is yellow

bluebell garlands round her ankles

snowdrops scattered in her hair

where she walks the buds burst forth

daffodils her orchestra

could any maiden be more fair?

the sky is blue, the breeze is gentle

all is fresh and new again

birdsong fills the sweet soft air

life renews in endless cycle

gone the bitter cold and darkness

away, away with winter care

soon the meadow banks will fill

with the flowers of warmer days

i will rest, for dreaming, there

 

Coton Manor Bluebell Wood Northamptonshire

 

pocket_watch_and_snowdrops_flower_stock_by_nexu4-d5znq4t

 

 

The Red Rose and the White

/ A. Gouedard / 1 Comment

My lover gave me a rose
It meant a lot to me
She placed it amongst my poems
Where it could simply be

My lover gave me a rose
I gave her all I had, gladly.
Her rose was a heart-felt gift.
Now I mark its absence sadly.

My lover gave me a rose.
It bloomed so strong and red
When she left she took it
Stale perfume remains in my head

My lover gave me a rose.
Now, in my heart, it’s a knife
It’s blade is the red of blood
But it will not take my life

My lover gave me a rose
And a rose is a lovely flower
As a symbol of love its complete
The thorns also have power

If I am asked to choose a rose
I would choose the one that is white
The rose of gentle love and hope
The one you can see in the night

The white rose is given in friendship
With a true and faithful heart
It does not burn with passion
Or vanish when lovers depart

The white rose grows wild at the wayside
Untended, uncared for yet strong
Touched by pink at its tender centre
Couched on a breeze and a birdsong

I don’t need to bind it or cut it
I love the white rose
It shines with compassion
It’s the fairest flower that grows

Sweet Repose

/ A. Gouedard / 3 Comments

at end of day when all is done

and i am in my lovers arms

i fall asleep in sweet repose

counting all her charms

any troubles of the day

mean nothing in comparison

our love has washed them all away

our day has been replete

and full of loving smiles

her head now rests upon my arm

with the sinking  of the sun

and the circling  stars

all our dreams are sweet

 

 

 

 

 

Following the Bards Advice

/ A. Gouedard / Leave a comment

let us not to the marriage of true minds admit impediment
build walls of gossamer and light against it
keep sweet endeavour to our true intent
lift our hearts entwined above
though time will take its toll
build towers of tenderest respect
fly high the joyous banner
i will love you heart and soul
let graceful fountains in the garden flow
with open truths that will refresh us
and make our flowers to grow
i will watch your changing moods
amidst them i will always know
that we are free yet bound as one
whatever breeze may blow

The Rhymney goes round

/ A. Gouedard / 2 Comments

thrust up from earth belly deeps
rising through coal seams
born on a rocky peak
the spring bursts forth
crystal pure
running clear
reflecting diamond
ripples of light
dancing to pastures
gentle and green
tumbling through gullies
flowing through valleys
and back to back houses
gathering coal dust
tadpoles
cartons and cans
and children fishing
for fish long gone
with sticks and pins
and old beaten buckets
barefoot on muddy banks
the mountains still rise
high up above
as the river runs over stone
and finds the sea
and rises to cloud
to bring rain
to the fields below