I see you standing there.
bare, naked in my room
i hardly dare approach you
but could stroke you into life
i’d give you peaceful colour
tenderness at heart
make you blush with rose pink
flame with carmine passion
light you up in glory
yellow, white and gold
floating into gentle blue
a work of loving art
Sorrow comes and goes,
full-blown rose and petals falling,
sadness passes with morning
the dawning of a bud
arriving.
A rose that opens
perfumes and enlightens
the air and the space it habituates,
a joy when it arrives,
reviving.
Even when watered by tears
deep in its heart there is nectar
to gather and treasure,
the returning life of the rose,
surviving.
the disused viaduct spanned the valley
a leap of arches, stone piled up on stone,
where old channelled streams, cut into cold clay,
flowed away from the hazed heat of the day
i followed to the ancient, cool damp wood,
no longer frequented, my secret place
i was lost in thoughts and wandering daydreams
wrapped in deep silence, woven with bird-song
surrounded by scents, the creaking of trees
the soft bubbling sounds of the nearby streams
a rustle of leaves on a sudden breeze
that hushed and sighed with the fall of the wind
leaving deep shade for dazzling sunlight
i entered the clearing, briefly stood, blind
as my sight cleared, he was suddenly there
he in the east, i in the west, both transfixed
suspended in time, an unbroken gaze,
we stood in communion across space
the race of my heart the only sound
i slowly knelt to the ground without thought
he stood in a sunbeams magical glow
a fox, the like of which i never saw,
tall, strong, gleaming in deep red coat, he shone
the King of the woodland for evermore
kneeling before him quietly, i smiled,
making my respect and intention clear
our eyes held, i his bondsman and loyal kin,
in a place that stretched through air, almost near
a moment of true beauty kept me there
when, turning quickly, he vanished away
leaving me, standing in awe and pure joy
a vision of gold, held still in my heart
i sit by the fire in the woodland
all is peace, gentle, quiet, dear,
yet my heart rises to my throat
rises like a spring, a songbird
wings beating, bursting
the well is deep, the moment fleeting
my pulse like water singing
drumming, humming
all fades away on the breeze
even as its golden light glows
shining out in the darkness
known, yet unknown.
home is her, and now.
it comes, it goes, the rose
it comes, it goes, the rose
the wild rose of the woodland
i run, trying to reach it
eagerness grasps only thorns
no perfume, no tender pink heart
better admired where it grows
soft petals shine out in the dark
dark trees loom all around
lost or found it blooms there
where is she in all i seek
she who holds the rose
why does she always leave
turning always to look back at me
she comes, she goes, holding the rose
she comes, she goes, holding the rose
i saw her up on the green hill
weaving in and out of the dance
i bow to her and take her hand
spin her, never win her
that wild, unruly, so gentle glance
as she turns and runs away
always looking back at me
always a footfall further
she haunts me still, never stays
she of the hill and the greenwood
where the paths all lead inward
deeper and ever deeper
into the wood i travel, willingly
into the wood i travel, willingly
this forest so wide and vast
these paths turn on fortunes wheel
darkness and light
all things future, all things past
shadows and clearings
silence and voices
a harp song on the wind
flute and owl hoot
the flash of a birds wing
in the night
i follow the ravens flight
i follow the Raven to the Tower
the gate is locked and barred
the gate is locked and barred
all is empty here
a hollow echo from before
i will not venture in
i stand and feel no fear
the Tower crumbles all to dust
i lay down my ancient sword
my armour turns to rust
my horse is faithful still
i trust to him and the Raven
i will follow his path
it is my own at last
all travellers have a quest
we ride on, finding the way
we ride on to once upon a time
over the hills and far away
where all paths twist back on themselves
always to the greenwood
the distant rainbows end
the treasure at its heart
the place where the rose unfolds
i dream amongst the trees
unafraid of any foe
guarded by a wall of thorns
protected in her circling arms
where all my dreams come true
i will travel on with her
wherever she may go
wherever she goes i will go
i follow in the dance
my pulse like water singing
she of the hill and the greenwood
queen of the shadows and clearings
my armour gleams again
i will be her hero
until my breath gives out
guarded by twisted paths
we rest in peace, with the rose
over the hills and far away
where time will never end
*******
a Corona is a series of sonnets strung together by the repetition of a line
Morning ~ a rubaiyat
impatient for your arms again i rise
to sit and watch your secret sleeping eyes
what dream is this that keeps you lingering there
with smiling parted lips and tender sighs
what joy in sleep so fills your captured heart
while i wait here alone, to watch apart
and gaze upon your much loved gentle face
more lovely than a work of perfect art
i wander in the garden late at night
to gather perfumed roses, pink and white,
while I my patient lovers vigil keep
to bring your morning wonder and delight
the dark, the stars, the moon are gone away
across your sleepy pillow sunbeams play
in this new world refreshed, renewed, be mine
awaken to another golden day
The Dreaming Path 