Poetry

The Caterpillar Speaks (updated version)

/ A. Gouedard / Leave a comment

The Hatter is a lunatic
He never knows which card to pick.
The March Hare is always running late.
He hasn’t even got a date.
The clock’s not as it seems.

The Hatter has bad dreams,
He’s always in distress
And Alice has a problem too,
She’s not sure what to do
When she doesn’t fit her dress.

They’re lost inside a fairy tale
And none of it is true.

There’s a thought inside the Hatter’s head
That Alice is his match
But he hears laughter all the time.
The cards are hard to catch.
He can’t make reason out of rhyme,
And every time he thinks of love
He’s haunted by a bat.

Twinkle twinkle little dove,
His stars may help with that,
They’re shining bright enough above
And all will be complete
When he sees roses
Scattered at his feet.

 

 

 

Papier Mache

/ A. Gouedard / Leave a comment

the shield is thin that stands between
the warmth of joy, and biting ice

grief is never far away
and overshadows life

the shield is thin that I create
and all my efforts vain

my work is no more use to me
than paper in the rain

The Caterpillar Speaks

/ A. Gouedard / Leave a comment

The Hatter is a lunatic
He never knows which card to pick.
The March Hare is always running late.
He hasn’t even got a date.
The clock’s not as it seems.

The Hatter has bad dreams,
He’s always in distress
And Alice has a problem too,
She’s not sure what to do
When she doesn’t fit her dress.

They’re lost inside a fairy tale
And none of it is true.

There’s a thought inside the Hatter’s head
That Alice is his match
But he hears laughter all the time.
The cards are hard to catch.
He can’t make reason out of rhyme,
And every time he thinks of love
He’s haunted by a bat.

Twinkle twinkle little dove,
His stars may help with that,
They’re shining bright enough above
And all will be complete
When he sees roses
Scattered at his feet.

Gorgeous (song lyrics)

/ A. Gouedard / Leave a comment

here’s a gift i didn’t need
a gift you blithly brought to me
it’s gorgeous
oh so gorgeous

you never wrap it up in flowers
now i sit in empty hours
so gorgeous
all so gorgeous

there’s a gift you bring to me
a gift of brutal honesty
it’s gorgeous
oh so gorgeous

some gifts can burn like hidden fire
now here I am, quite uninspired
you’re gorgeous
oh so gorgeous

i feel lost, misunderstood
such brutal truth has done no good
gorgeous
truly gorgeous

i’m a fool to care so much
for what you say, your distant touch
is gorgeous
oh so gorgeous

truth can kill the gift of love
as all the angels know above
some things are better left unsaid
or hidden underneath the bed
love’s a child of sun and light
a lantern shining in the night
why squash the flame and snuff the spark
now i’m dancing in the dark
it’s gorgeous
really gorgeous

i ponder every word you say
i’ll live to see another day
don’t lie, don’t sigh, don’t shy away
never look at me that way
you’re gorgeous
always gorgeous

An Audience of None

/ A. Gouedard / Leave a comment

true

stoneofdestiny's avatarStone of Destiny

book of the dead

Who will judge us, and by what measure?

We closed our eyes upon the living world and awoke to find ourselves standing in the presence of a powerful being, being both jackal and man. We do not fear him, but rather the great set of scales besides which he stands.

In one hand he carries a single feather, plucked from the wings of the goddess of truth.

He places that feather upon the scales, and then reaches out toward us, into us, and though we are not harmed, we see that he carries our heart in his easy grip.

This two he places upon the scales.

A heart weighed down with a lifetime of regrets, and a feather infused with the weight of justice.

The scales tip, one way or the other, and we are judged.

The taste of the coin lingers as the small boat finally comes to ground.

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Landlocked (a haibun)

/ A. Gouedard / Leave a comment

On my TV screen I watch a real time bus journey through green rolling hills. It’s so long since I saw a wide open field. I am jealous of all the passengers, though they ride around in a box.

in my silent room
here’s how the zoo lion lives
enclosed with no space

Awakening of the Heart: Permaculture’s Ethic of Care

/ A. Gouedard / Leave a comment

well worth a read – no shortage of wisdom here – let’s not say it’s impossible to change direction – change ethics and all else follows

Dana's avatarThe Druid's Garden

Love the earth Love the earth

As I write this, a brave group of Native Americans are standing in support of the earth and protesting yet another oil pipeline that threatens water supplies, health, and home. Here, we see the clash between those defending their mother in care and compassion, and those representing profit and pillage. It is in the care for our lands the tribes take a stand; it the understanding of sacred connection of all things, all life, that helps them brave the dogs, pepper spray, the intimidation and much worse abuses. In some ways, the situation unfolding in North Dakota is a representation of similar circumstances that peoples and communities find themselves all over the world facing: fighting giant corporations who seek to pillage and profit while paying little attention to the human and environmental costs involved in their actions. I believe that many of today’s problems stem from a…

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To Lizzie (when we were eight)

/ A. Gouedard / Leave a comment

I remember you little girl,
I remember you so well,
(still with a smile in my eyes)
and our home in the hidden hedgerow
and your pink tray with painted roses
you’d dragged from a tangled ditch
and scrubbed clean as a whistle
to serve me tea, one day, long ago,
when i returned from my wandering hunt
in the unfenced, treasure filled hills.

I remember your bouncing braids
as you ran and skipped on ahead,
to the shade of the bluebell woods.
I remember your chapped lips,
dry, from long summers suns;
the lips that i kissed so chastely
and thought it a daring deed
that I waited for days to repeat,
knowing you wanted me
to practice more kisses in play.

my princess of summer meadows,
my princess of virginal snows,
my princess of warm rains and ice,
my princess of the beckoning
who thought she was only a girl

we knew how to savour life
we knew how to live for one day,
and never for yesterday.
we only wished our tomorrow
to be the same as today,
in the simple trust that it would.
now, i remember you, little girl,
i wish that it always was