at end of day when all is done
and i am in my lovers arms
i fall asleep in sweet repose
counting all her charms
any troubles of the day
mean nothing in comparison
our love has washed them all away
our day has been replete
and full of loving smiles
her head now rests upon my arm
with the sinking of the sun
and the circling stars
all our dreams are sweet
In one year we travel four billion miles around the Sun
Without even stirring a limb.
We dream fifteen thousand dreams,
Remembering almost none.
How significant those that we do.
In a lifetime we may see nine hundred New Moons
Twenty-five thousand sunsets,
Twenty-five thousand dawns.
How many do we really see?
How significant those that we do.
How many times might my love smile at me?
How many times will we kiss?
How many dreams can we make come true
Before time flees and is gone?
How significant those that we do.
If I thought I’d be gone tomorrow
What would I say and do?
Nothing significant
The light comes and goes across the earth;
A clock hand that sweeps us away.
Butterflies, unaware
was i pretending to myself again?
is it all illusion, fantasy, delusion, that life is beautiful?
am i walking in the dark, thinking there are lanterns?
are there angels in the trees? did I dream them?
can love be forever? is it ever?
will i drown in clear air for lack of hope?
when my heart leapt for joy was that all a lie?
can the world be empty darkness, as i saw it today?
where has all the glory gone that i saw yesterday?
perceptions, happiness, despondency,
the ebb and flow, what’s true, what isn’t,
no clarity, no balance, clouded vision
shadows dancing on the wall in firelight
music heard far off, the shade behind the waterfall,
a leaf turning in light, falling, landing rots to dust
the echo of a voice across a valley far away, sun sinking,
frost that silvers the hilltops, the cocks crow at dawn,
a sense that all is born to die, overpowered, as it must
light reflected in a lake, rainbows over cornfields,
swallows gliding on the high still air, above the wood,
the dark smell of mud, these are things i trust
joys, sorrows, melancholia, laugher, tears
bring what they may or go as they might
remembered or forgotten over tumbling years
a pattern, night into day, day into night,
underneath all this one beauty, shining bright,
burning light, conquering fruitless fear
a celestial light, strong and clear
thats illuminates true love
and a straight path
promises are like butterflies
wonderful, even spectacular
but when you touch their wings
they cannot fly any more
i don’t promise
i care
the palace of gold and blue
stood high above on the hill
shimmering in heat like a mirage
the chatter of monkeys was shrill
in the river below elephants bathed
later that evening, so clearly recalled now,
as the sun dipped down in a pink haze
we saw a sadhu with a white cow
we followed to a tea stall
by the steps of an old temple
the cow so beautiful, gentle
its eyes lined with khol
wore a garland of marigold and a bell
that rang softly as it gazed at me
reaching my heart and casting a spell
on the temple steps we sat
slowly sipping hot tea
beneath a sickle moon and one bright star
we spoke in quiet voices
until the man and the cow both bowed and walked on
i see that cow as clearly years later
as if it was but a moment ago
i listened to the sadhu’s every word
it was the white cow i heard
it spoke only of acceptance and love
How do people fall in love?
Is it purely chemistry?
How does that work
When you can only feel an atmosphere?
Body language, eyes,
A smile at all the right moments.
But more than this it must be.
All meetings are by chance
So how is one more meaningful than another?
Instantly and mutual.
With friends it’s all we have in common
That makes and holds us, long or short,
But love? We fall before we even know.
The head may struggle to hold back
But the heart is already given,
And who can ignore the heart.
So without a metaphor or rhyme
I ask myself these questions.
The older I grow the less I really know.
No certainties any more.
I am mystified.
My heart is not.
There is a love, like no other
I try to find the words to tell
It swells the heart
And swims in the throat
A golden burst
Both high and deep
More than passion
It glows, not burns
Soft and wild
Sublime embrace
That reaches out
Explodes, yet stays within
It reaches for the Universe
Strong and peaceful
Always growing, always huge
Yet dwells inside a human heart
Heart-long-leap
Boom-gush-torrent
Doors flung open
Wide and warm
No touch or kiss
Can quite express it
I need a word that says all this
But I can only call it Love
Let me not to the marriage of true minds
Admit impediments. Love is not love
Which alters when it alteration finds,
Or bends with the remover to remove:
O no; it is an ever-fixed mark,
That looks on tempests, and is never shaken;
It is the star to every wandering bark,
Whose worth’s unknown, although his height be taken.
Love’s not Time’s fool, though rosy lips and cheeks
Within his bending sickle’s compass come;
Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,
But bears it out even to the edge of doom.
If this be error and upon me proved,
I never writ, nor no man ever loved.
I posted this because it’s my favourite sonnet and I believe in it not just in relationships but in life – Love is the star to every wandering bark
After three days of sunlight
the May bursts forth,
shining white stars amongst hedgerow leaves.
In the marshlands tall grasses wave feathered plumes of gold and cream,
tender on green silken stems.
The sycamore bedecked in bright green catkin tails sways in a gentle breeze,
a reminder of lambs.
A blackbirds sings atop the cedars outstretched limbs,
a dark silhouette against bright blue sky.
Dandelions with sun-filled faces
spread across suddenly verdant pasture.
The air is filled with the scent of new mown grass,
fresh cut blades scatter at the grey roads side
as I wander home in the falling light.
At my door,
one dandelion forces its way upwards
through the red tiles of the doorstep,
spring strong, shining,
a signal that summer comes.
Life bursts into bud
quiet fanfare for summer
warmth, wonder, delight.
Love is equally enlightening.
see the shining star atop the tree
a star in every house and street
a mirror of the celestial map
a tribute to the stars above
shining out where pavements glitter
sparkling in the frosted air
beaming out from lighted doors
greeting every passer by
a star in every window, every home
a light that gives a thanks complete
a light of joy and silvered wonder
welcoming families home with love
this bright star so high above
a glorious guiding light
not intended for one night
but held aloft a life time long
The Dreaming Path 