light

Fear Not Winter

/ A. Gouedard / Leave a comment

we are children of the sun
fear not evening when it comes
fear not winters failing light
when our hearth fires burn so bright

though the snow is on the ground
with the shadows gathered all around
the stars are shining brighter up above
and our hearts are filled with warmth of love

come with gladness
come with cheer
come to bless the turning year

we will sing
we will bring the Yule log in
pine and holly from the wood
as we share the deep red cup of glowing wine

come with gladness
come with cheer
come to bless the turning year

we will dance
we will hang the mistletoe
i will kiss you once again
and await the springs returning of the wren

The Battlefield

/ A. Gouedard / Leave a comment

half of the world is locked in a nightmare
half of the world is a glorious dream
half of the world is walking in darkness
spreading their misery wherever they go
half of the world follows the light
seeing the mystery, seeing the glow

storm clouds and thunder, fire and strong bars
a vision of wonder, sunlight and stars
horror and cruelty, vicious dissent
honour and loyalty, loving ascent
hell on earth if that is your choice
heaven on earth too has its own voice

it so often seems that the dark side will win
but the balance is held between giving and sin
the clever ones know how to give all the answers
the wise ones are known by the questions they ask
all that we see will be over, the past,
nightmare or dream we awaken at last
the night will end and all will be light

Too Wise

/ A. Gouedard / Leave a comment

What do you say
to the one who’s a true hearted friend?
the one you met last, close to the end.
Forget about passion,
forget about pain.
We’ll talk about other things.

Music and books,
Mad Hatter and Alice.
Will Arthur return again?
If we shout loud enough
do you think we can wake him ?

Too old for illusions,
too wise for that now,
no love poems here
never-never, they’re banned.
Keeping your feet on the ground
is the hardest part,
romance is easy,
i feel myself floating,
the challenge is avoiding a  fall.

We can be children and play.
It’s an adventure, that’s all.
I don’t need to say anything,
you know all i mean.
You know, as i do,
things are not as they seem.
There are monsters out there.
They wait in the dark.
Hold tight,
they wont catch us my darling
we’ll live in the light.

When I am Old (revised)

/ A. Gouedard / Leave a comment

Dedicated to my Mother ~

 

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 sleep
to dream dreams of the long gone

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
and eat the fabrics to tatters

I will confuse the books i have read
with memories
i will see the ghosts of my family
standing by
and wonder if they wait for me in the night

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

drifting back to childhood again
so clear
with all my family gathered around
the dead ones
now is just a space between sleeping and waking

 

Shooting Stars

/ A. Gouedard / Leave a comment

The lamps shine down from windows high above,
Burning moths, white wings singe against the light.
Old roses hang against the well worn walls
Amongst the darker tangle of the leaves,
Their blossoms gleaming as each petal falls,
While lovers sleep entranced in tender dreams,
Turning now and then throughout the long night,
Entwined and locked together by their limbs.
I stand below here, pierced and polarised.
The galaxies are singing psalms and hymns.
Seeing, I lose all sense of who I am.
I see a sky that’s full of shooting stars.

No wish I make can change our mortal fate.
It’s beautiful, it’s passing and it’s late.

 

 

To my Sons

/ A. Gouedard / 2 Comments

There’s no lasting thrill in luxury.
Luxury, of its nature, should be rare.
It’s hard to feel real pleasure
when everything you ever want
is instantly supplied and there.

The credit card, a chain around you neck.
will bind you into deep despair.
Be a worker not a slave.
Be kind, be vigilant.
Be true to who you are.
Be brave.

Don’t linger in the darker places
of a troubled mind
Turn your face toward the sun
Your journey here will make you wise
Give daily thanks that you’re alive
Use your heart, your brain and eyes

Enjoy each small surprise
that life decides to send your way.
Expect nothing, receive with pleasure,
little things that bring delight
delivered quietly every day
or in the sweetness of the night

Whatever life may bring to me
I am always glad of you
This perhaps you do not see,
You will always be my chosen ones.
Your light shines bright
You are my sons.

The Clearing

/ A. Gouedard / Leave a comment

oh how moods swing up and down
first a smile and now a frown
like the weather, changing ever
sun and showers across the town

all my life it’s been the same
a sadness comes I cannot name
it matters not how i strive
a balanced mind i cannot claim

my heart beats on despite it all
with every breath that lifts and falls
but when i look with inner eye
a woodland clearing always calls

the glory that lies underneath
is clear to me in every leaf
in gratitude i clear my sight
and come to find a tranquil peace

all is lovely, gentle, light
the darkest day becomes more bright
in a prayer of thankfulness
my mind lifts up in joyful flight

 

The Truth

/ A. Gouedard / Leave a comment

 

i made a long journey
like many before me
i had my fair share
of incidents, mishaps
some were of my own making,
others were simply there,
awaiting the unwary traveller

i learned much of the woods
how to read all the signs
and hear the approach
of the seekers of prey

i had little respect
for robbers and bandits
i had seen all their kind before
i held no vendetta against them
i dislike them neither more, nor less, now
than i did when i took to the road

i had made my own problems too
i wished to be left alone
sometimes yearning for home
it’s true

woods seem full of shadows
but darkness contrasts the light
and lets in the brightness of day
where is gleams through the branches
making clearer the safer way

i came to a clearing and rested
enjoying the peace,
listening to leaves sigh high on a breeze
above in the trees that whispered

if only i could stay
resting here forever
i looked at the paths leading on

it was a beautiful day
i felt some sense of completion

a sharp snap and an echo
the silence was gone
the sound of movement,
coming towards me,
secretly, fast

i felt a moment of panic
caught unaware
as they gathered around
to circle and slay me at last

calming my mind
i looked at the paths
the choices were many
which one should it be

i heard a signal
the voice of a raven
he stood in the sunlight
on a broad ancient branch of a tree
lit against shadow
by a path i instantly knew

it was as i had always imagined
well lit and wide open
it shone out beckoning me
nothing to fear any more
my weariness melted away
i saw i was home
this open wide path
lead straight to the door
where my soul awaited within

 

 

Go Gently

/ A. Gouedard / Leave a comment

 

Go gentle, gentle, into that good night

Old age brings acceptance of this last fate

Fly, fly to the beckoning, golden light

 

All seasons will end by pre-ordained right

The wise men know that when the hour is late

Their soul will take leave for eternal light

 

Good men do not fear the long, deep dark night.

Do not rage, sadly berating your fate,

Go gentle and rest, return to the light

 

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,

Will sing in their dreams with no wish to wait

They will fly swiftly, to shining, bright light

 

Grave men will ponder the beauty of night

They will pray tenderly, knowing their fate,

Remembering all that was loving, bright

 

And you my father,  in that blessed night

Look upon me, with no sadness, and wait

I will not rage at the death of the light

I will go gentle into that good night

 

***************************

(sorry Mr Thomas – you know this means no disrespect – you are my favourite poet after Shakespeare – and I will pray for you often)