bells jingle softly
sandlewood by the peach trees
i know you passed by
Author: A. Gouedard
New page – Driftwood
A page of random flotsam and jetsam I would like to share with you all
This page could go anywhere – its a wander and a wonder
Old Love
there was no need of explanations
when all was accepted and understood
sunlight filled the clearing
a path of soft grass
lead through the wood
the rapids on the river
a source of delight,
exhilaration, excitement
the boat spinning and whirling
a reason for laughter
as we clung closer
what cared we for danger
when in evening we returned
to sit warmly wrapped
at the fireside, together
the paths have become hidden
overgrown with bramble and thorn
twisting back on themselves
the Prince in the fairytale
hacks with his sword
to find his way through
to the sleeping Princess
who waits alone, for a kiss,
only a kiss and a promise,
in stories he is never exhausted
you don’t hear tales of his scars
he always succeeds
what a miracle worker he is
what a wonder to behold
astride his white horse
shining in silver armour
despite the darkness
there is a path where the rich scent
of old fallen leaves fills the air
the banks of this path are cut deeply
amongst the roots of the ancient trees
they hold the path, embraced,
they are not there to trip us
but to keep the way open ahead
the road is old and worn
Words
‘Sticks and stones may break my bones
but words will never hurt me.’
Ha! who arrived at that
pat down potted wisdom
shrugging off truth
with an easy phrase and a lie
Words are life savers and killers,
blessing givers, tormentors, thieves
they can make you grovel
they can make you free
they can make you feel loved,
wanted and cared for, or
disgraced, misplaced, dispossessed
words are power
words are spells
one misplaced word
side-tracks, sharp edges, confusions
all is lost and undone
don’t ask me to speak with words
let me show you, not tell you
give me the language of eyes and skin
my hand in your hair, the quiet night air,
the bird song, the breeze, the river
my arm under your head,
your breathe in my ear,
tangled limbs,
these are the words of love
The Sacrificial Rite
naked and bound at the foot of a tree
hands lashed to feet and kneeling
an embryo, a seed curled in submission
without resistance, i saw,
in the sacrificial rite
as time released me
in the woods the oak grows tall
the acorn falls to dark earth, maternal
stripped from the shell, the sapling springs
in the labyrinth of time, the wheel eternal,
in the vernal equinox, the turn,
up from the seed, limbs stretching
reaching to light, no death is here
take heart in the strength of oak
daffodils, toadstools, the bluebell
nothing of worth is ever lost
time gives life to the tender seed
to be reborn
you first must die
The Minstrel
Peering through a mist
parting a veil, dusty webs,
staring back at fate.
I see the entrance vividly,
the exit all too clear
He rode into London in a cavalcade
his lady seated before him, bedazzled by all they saw
exchanging glances with his boisterous brothers
they rode in a merry troupe, loud laughter and youth
lute and tabor, bells and fine embroidery.
They roamed the streets at night
joyful pups in a rainbow of rags and finery
mocking wealth they cocked a snoop at death.
They attracted wide attention.
red ribbons and green
her hair swings in the sunlight
her eyes, her arms, life
Ah! but to stay in the streets and courtyards would have been far wiser.
What does youth know, exuberant, thoughtless, unwitting.
Attention a flattery, alluring.
Beckoned through wider and higher doors
they entered in. Gardens of delight, sweet scents and song
gentle harmless beauty, so it seemed to him.
A peace fell upon him there, he dreamed in poetry.
Darkness approached. The shadow of a cloud on the grass as it crosses that summers sun.
lavender lady
seats herself amongst roses
charming, so disarming
Requests made, favours granted ,
twisted meanings, things not understood,
so many whispers in quiet corridors,
the web of intrigue draws tighter,
he spoke the wrong words too lightly
spilling his thoughts into treacherous ears.
This tale reveals all that was feared.
The shadow of the Tower looms closer.
He longs to leave this city, they will flee at night,
run to the countryside
where the hills are wide and sweeping,
where the willows lean gently
over the Avon weeping.
All too late.
He prays she got away.
dark walls draw inward
music screams loud in the silence
of la oubliette
this is not his final end, the world is too unkind
better to be forgotten than to suffer such a fate
still unsatisfied they dragged him out
it turns and troubles my stomach now
to watch the rest of this
the pain became too great and ceased, he rose
floating high above himself, looking down on horror
seeing things no-one should see
and my pen grows silent, as he fades away in light
red roses spread out
he flies above the woodlands
butterflies of light
Fireflies
how many fireflies
are one too many at night
when the stars compete
sugar and spice
two little girls
dressed all in pink and freshly washed
sit on a wall covered with roses
swinging their legs and smiling
as they kill all the butterflies
taking pleasure in doing it slowly
Five Haiku to start five stories
a girl surrounded by fairy wings
sees what others don’t see
the gate stands open
guarded by ravens
the tower stands in the forest
twigs snap in the dark
a man hurried past
his breathing heavy
shadows obscure the path
the bus is surrounded
bright eyed boys in the dusk
starlings flock to the rooftops
after a hot day
silver crack on the horizon
a line in the dark
Hungarian Mushroom Soup ~ EEE-O-11, Sister Madly
I love this site and the recipes are great
Upon finding themselves in need of a holiday, the Mad Professors, after much debate, decided that Sister Madly should accompany them on their night of grand debauchery- for entertainment purposes only.
But she was to leave the onion-chopping eyewear at home.
It took place at a casino near the coast, as gambling is a favorite pastime among the Professors, second only to exposing Sister Madly to peculiar situations just to see what will happen to her.
But this wasn’t Sister Madly’s first casino. She once encountered an all Black Jack joint in the back of a fusion restaurant, whose unconventional- if not inconvenient- access made it seem delightfully illicit; it would’ve been glamorous had she not had to shuffle through a greasy kitchen first.
The Professors, under the impression that this was Sister Madly’s maiden voyage, had little interest in financing the expedition and even less intention in feeding her. Her…
View original post 642 more words
The Dreaming Path 