the girl runs from house to garden
from garden to house and back again
thinking only of running
thinking only of the garden and the house
this house, this garden
the breeze and the sunlight pooled on the grass
and the swaying of the poplar trees
she has no memory of any other place
or time
the delusions of the world unravelled
unspun they slipped away
this world complete enough
This house has been kept for ghosts.
They live here now, dimly present, unheard.
She thinks she is preserving her childhood
by keeping their furniture, the curtains,
everything just as it was.
She holds up the screen for their shadows
to flicker against, with love.
These ghosts are more than memory.
I almost saw them once or twice
when time slipped sideways, ajar.
I enter the room and feel them,
feel the warmth on the arm of a chair
where his hand leaned just a moment ago.
I know he just left by the opposite door.
There is a slight disturbance in the air
as real as the solid oak table by the window
and the light on the polished floor.
It is winter now.
The house would be cold and damp without them,
though they hang in a fine sea mist by the fire.
At night he climbs the stair ahead of me.
They were always ahead of me, here
long before I came.
We don’t intrude. We live side by side.
When I am gone it will still be so.
I turn out the light and make my way to bed
in the dark
knowing they did the same.
if i could subtract
i would remove
all the block and ballast
of all the past relationships
and every word i said that hurt
there would be no divisions
all good things would multiply
i would add love to every word i said
to make the truth sing clear
i am not a mathematician
my sums don’t all add up
i mumble through the algebra
and stumble through equations
to show you all i really mean
i’d need geometry
that divine expression
the balanced harmony of minds
and all the love i truly feel
The mists, the mountains, cloud topped giants,
houses hung beneath the roads,
the mysteries of Cader Idris,
the bearded lake, Arthur’s stone,
a throne beside the glassy water
hollowed rock o’er grown with moss,
the leap of silvered salmon in the river,
the sheep, the lanes, the wayside markers
in the wall of wild flowers blooming,
by granite seat of ancient Bards,
where people gathered
hearing story roll from lips and memory.
All these things we saw together,
wandering in the wilderness of Wales
with my father, as a child.
The village streets where women gossiped,
the cobblestones and chimney pots
enchanted drifts of wood-smoked air
the clanging chime of book shop bell
as my father lead me to a gloomy room
walled with shelves.
Reaching up above my head
he handed me Dylan Thomas
a poet he had never read.
In bed that night a door swung open
with all the chimes of stream and meadow
louder than the bookshop bell
ringing out in word and image
words delicious in my mouth
the sounds, the shapes, the sensual pleasures
wrapped in beauty, thoughts profound,
laughter, love, the lowing cattle
driven home at eventide.
The orchards and the apple trees,
the night above that shines with stars.
The chapel choirs sang out across the valleys
voices raised in harmony and hymn,
the moaning echoes of the wind in grass
the sighing singing of the sea,
short lives lived
parading slowly to the grave.
open the lid of the memory chest
gaze inward at confusing profusions
happiness followed by sorrow, sadness,
unhealed wounds, unasked questions, no answers,
answers that came too late to be useful,
loud echoing moans of passion and pain
treasured hearts and momentary wishes
a shining smile hangs transfixed there in time
decisions made, regrets still regretted,
unfair accusations, retributions,
poets, madmen, traditions, musicians,
denials, betrayals, indiscretions,
honour, bravery, loyalty, liars
those dark places i found myself trapped in
all life packed away in a box, neatly
layers upon layers gathering dust
the past can haunt you for evil or good
the journey still waits, the road is ahead
fast slam the lid shut, forget all you saw
banish all visions, dream instead, lock it
a small voice still calls me from deep inside
i throw the lid open, once more in hope,
up flies my glorious hand stitched banner
with one word boldly emblazoned, a flame,
triumphant emblem, my name, ”Survivor”
written in gold on blue heaven, it sails
behind the three witches, fine chains
of iron, silver and jade
they twitched and trembled,
they had their own life
while the witches sat, frozen statues in time
what bought them to the depths of this cave?
where did their glowing chains lead?
so deep the gloom. foolishly brave,
i couldn’t see my own dragon
though i felt his breath close to my ear
leaving the cave and my dragon behind
the image of three chains remained
a puzzle left unresolved
i stumbled out, finding the light
i ran across miles and miles of dry land
and sailed a wild sea, to hold the arms of a man
drowned in a shallow watery grave
listen, like a snake the ocean twists and turns
the singing whips of salt and seaweed
slowly swept him away
seven women watched from the sun-blasted shore
speaking in whispers, spinning their threads,
they spoke of barbs stitched into clothes,
powders hidden in boxes, potions and spells,
a dead mans hand beneath the marriage bed
i could smell it, a dark bitter incense
what hope can there be in all this?
I don’t belong here at all, never will
there is no grace in this journey
no safe path for returning
my angels where have you been all this time?
you who left me beside the great gates
is this a lesson or just a mad dream?
return to me now, i need you still.
still, in stillness and light,
banish the battles of endless night
let me follow the silver chain
bringing my dragon to rest at my side
making me whole again
I travelled far, found a home
where my flag of honour flew
I thought it so, I worked for you,
for all I thought was true
you illustrate this event
with a comic book cartoon
and say you did it in good faith
am I too serious?
I should lighten up I guess
it’s just a party
all in jest
just a game, no harm
take my paper, take my words,
trample them in mud,
tear and shred my tribal banner
tell me this is love
I have been to parties
festivals and celebrations,
gathering, joyful tribal dances,
where my banner flew in wind
sunshine shone on open pages
there was light and dignity
I never thought to leave
such grace and charity
this though is another place
your run me round in circles
I see your honeyed traps
the charm, the exploitation
such manipulations
will never capture me
I have already gone
I left your circle game
this is a game of consequences,
angles, perspectives, attitudes
pitiless, clear
nothing less, nothing more
there’s a futile dead end to thought
the pathos filled path to no place
that wide open sceptical door
to self pity, the pit, no mercy
making us less than we are
a shard of ice in the heart
the manacled fire of the mind
where life becomes paltry,
feeble, flawed
into the darkness we walk
drowning our sorrows
dying for water
parched
caught from an earlier rain
a droplet on a dark leaf
reflecting a light that gleams
a shimmering fragile globe
it mirrors the tree, growing above
where wide open branches reach to the sky
if we ever looked up we would see
the way they turn to the sun and grow tall
nothing can make us small
nothing will stop us from standing again
except the belief that the sun doesn’t shine
and the clouds will never bring rain
the sun, the shine,
the shadows fall beneath the trees,
tranquil trance of leaves, triumphant,
leaning, lofty, lovely, light
the love, the lost, the found, the learning,
light of love, looping flight
flight to night, the moon, the stars,
stars that lead the navigator
star of wonder, star of hope
tent of sky, singing songs
sounds of battle, lullaby and funeral marches
swords and strangers, the strong, the mighty
might have been, may be still, morning comes,
comes with chimes, chime of bell,
bells of silver, shiver, shatter, shards,
sentinels of silence, stone
stones in water, stones in sea,
the rivers rush, rolling, waters rising into cloud,
rain and rainbow. what of us?
What of us? we were. we are.
walking, wandering, wondering why,
where and when, will it, wont it come again
the sun, the shine and is this all?
are we really all so small?
the sun, the shine, a burst of light,
burgeons, blossoms, blooms and grows,
glows and gladdens, glancing eyes,
eyes that see, the world, the life unfold,
enfold, enshrine, delightful,
dancing, woven in delicious dream,
the globe, the glow, eternal, bright,
entrances me – this glorious world
Deep in my heart the sun is shining.
The day clear blue and stretched sounds.
I can almost see, here from the ground,
my heart flying, swooping in air,
as high as a kite and gleaming.
Vertical take off to light,
a downward push of my hand
takes me up, into luminous flight.
I must be a bird, to reach up here.
The mountains spread out beneath me,
the revolving, rotating greens of the land.
I bank on a cloud, rolling, reaching,
tumbling, gliding, looping, I turn
on a breeze, diving deep to the sea,
slicing the spray and screeching.
I knew this would happen one day.
A seagull.
All I wanted to be.
The Dreaming Path 