Author: A. Gouedard

What is it

/ A. Gouedard / Leave a comment

Tamara told me the answer to this puzzle (her answer at least) – what do you think it is?

Lady Tamara Winterwolf's avatarLady Tamara Winterwolf's Nightflight

What is it

That makes lovers whisper silly words all through the night.

What is it

That makes the painter rush home to paint the girl he met.

What is it

That makes the poet forget his dinner under the rain of words.

What is it

That makes the baby find her mother’s breasts while sleeping.

What is it

That makes that tough boy smile when he recalls his first kiss .

What is it

That makes my lover run into the night when I’m gone asleep .

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Demons

/ A. Gouedard / 1 Comment

they watched me
my familiar demons
always watched me
to seek a way in
setting their subtle
last minutes traps
never exactly a sin
more a delusion
or sudden mishaps

they watched me
i thought i knew them
pride before the fall
a deep need for freedom
self doubt and denial
no trust in love, no hope
faith always on trial
they used my own mind like a rope

they watch me now still
they don’t like what they see
i left their dark reach
i blocked up the breach
i am finally free to be
i follow my heart
they cant see in there
i don’t let them have the key

ripples

/ A. Gouedard / Leave a comment

pebble falling

floating into hidden depths

it settled on the river bed

to rest there

long and lasting

rolled only by the river

moved by natures forces

while the ripples hit the bank

and rippled back again

 

where do the ripples go?

how far would they continue

if there was nothing

to contain them?

would they go on and on

beyond my power of seeing?

 

words are just like pebbles

reaching hidden depths

they too have their ripples

bouncing off each other

spreading outwards

in ways we never know

 

Persephone

/ A. Gouedard / Leave a comment

Ceres hands have been at rest
Now she spins her spells anew
And the land is freshly blessed
Magic sparkles in the dew
Her song of rebirth wakes her daughter
Hidden in the ancient depths
Held in night that brings no day

Persephone has been away
Bringing comfort under earth
Distraction in the realms of death
Where darkness broods in Pluto’s lap
Until in time she is released
To shine in glory once again
Child of Spring and Summers breath

April showers bring the rainbows
Seven coloured belt so rare
Girdled round Persephone’s waist
Scattered daisies in her hair
Dancing bare foot in the grass
Whirling, spinning, wild and wanton
She spreads enchantments everywhere
Where she steps the flowers bloom
And we know that winter’s past

Springs Song and Dance

/ A. Gouedard / Leave a comment

Here is comes!
The Overture!
Winter ice melts away
Runs in rivulets of water
Puddles reflect a silver sun
Splattered light, all a-dazzle

The snowdrop rings a tiny bell
Listen close
It bows its head
With tender grace
In sweet sonata
Shy performer on life’s stage

The crocus come
Gentle choral
Adding colour
Bringing warmth
The trees burst forth in emerald bud
Birds fly in from warmer climes
All sleeping creatures come awake
All is chatter, all is bustle
Adding to the seasons song

In the garden
Daffodils march in
Blaring trumpets
Yellow chalice
Golden gongs
Gilly-flowers join the dance
Forsythia, Hyacinth,
Frezia, Lilac, Helleborus
Cornucopia of scent

Blue bell carpets in the forest
Where the shade is damp and dense
All the worlds a jubilation
Sung forth from the blackbirds throat
Bringing joy to the morning
Making all our spirits rise
Flying upward with the birds
To the bright cerulean sky

A Love Story ~ Rosa & Arjuna

/ A. Gouedard / 3 Comments

Two lovers
separated
by the stretch
of open ocean
endless sky
moonlight passing
day to night

Arjuna’s window pointed west
While Rosa’s looked out to the east
Of their love they both were sure

Only water lay between them
Only time would be the test
Whether love could long endure

They had vowed to watch the moon
Each one in their lonely room
Far apart, but close in heart

They watched the silver face
Passing in and out of sight
Held aloft in lovely light

Counting moons
The months passed by
In time Rosa ceased to cry
She had now become enamored
Of watching starlit nights
And changing skies

Counting moons
The years passed by
Arjuna drowned his tears in books
Slowly he began to write
He described the stars
And all the glories of the night

He described all she saw
As they watched the sky together
Together yet so far apart
They reached a sweet contentment
Beyond the reach of lovers art
Contemplating all they saw

Did they ever meet again?
If fate was kind I think they did.
Where it was I cannot say.
May the light of heaven lead them.
The moon has never shone so bright
As I saw it shine tonight.

Into the West

/ A. Gouedard / 1 Comment

Beautifully written pieces, observant and imaginative – i like it very much so i am reblogging it so that others can enjoy it too

Lady Tamara Winterwolf's avatarLady Tamara Winterwolf's Nightflight

Every morning, when I wake up and go to my kitchen the first thing I do is look out of the window towards the sea. In this winter months the sea usually looks like a big dark jelly . Sometimes quiet, some other times shaken by the wind. There are mornings though that this darkness gets replaced by the most beautiful silver shine on the sea. Like this last nights. My window looks towards West North – West. This last few nights in the middle of my kitchen window there was the moon, big and round. Smiling, she was greeting me face to face. While I would be preparing my first tea she would be slowly sinking into the cuddling sea. The following morning I came down the same time like every other morning, 4.45 sharp and was surprised that the shining  face of the moon shifted more to the…

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When I am Old

/ A. Gouedard / 2 Comments

when i am old i wont do anything
but think
and run my life back and forward
in my mind
in translucent back-lit visions

the trek to the kitchen and back
a long journey
re-gaining at last the armchair
i will sleep
to dream dreams of the long gone days

i will develop a liking for jelly and custard
milk pudding
soup from a can and cheese with jam
cream cakes
and forget what i meant to have for breakfast

the taps will drip, the fire will burn cold
windows rattle
and the mice will move in unafraid
as company
to eat all the fabrics to tatters

i will confuse the books i have read
with memories
i will see the ghosts of my family
standing by
wondering if they will lead me away tonight

I wont care about any of this
watching light
watching shadows move across the walls, my clock
distant birds
i will ignore all bad news and live in imagination

drifting back to childhood again
so clear
with all my family gathered near
the dead ones
now will become a space between waking and sleep

The Tourist and Her Toy

/ A. Gouedard / 1 Comment

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