Portmeirion

My mother said,
“Bow three times, low,
if you see the new moon
through glass.
And be sure to turn
your purse over.”

We rarely went on holiday.
We had no money.

Not far from the sea ,
an Italianate village
overhangs a Welsh river,
with statues
preserved from the past,
stone mermaids,
washed ashore.

We stroll in a dream,
eating ice-cream.

Sunshine comes and goes,
overcast by scurrying clouds.
We hope the weather will hold.

On the pavement I found
a pebble,
a ring
and a discarded wrapper
that caught the sun.
It twinkled.

Scrawled on a scrap of paper,
”The end of the world is nigh,
don’t look now but we’re watching’’

There were roses and apples
piled in a basket.
I wondered who left then there.
The bell rings in the tower.

We went back to a cheap hotel.
It was over.

My lover is away.
My lover is often away
but it makes no distance.

I dreamed of my father last night,
we wandered room to room
as he shared his wisdom.

“How can we believe what they tell us now
when we know they have lied before.
Its all manipulation,
since 1984 and before.
Think about Aldous Huxley.
He knew.
That man had vision.”

When I was a child I dreamed of flying,
flying above the blue curve of a bay,
probably flying homeward.

Outside my window
is a wall, overgrown,
with moss and ivy.
Goodnight room,
goodnight window,
goodnight moon.
Hello Cupid and Psyche.

Calling Venus

memories, sunlight, shadows
there are no delusions in here
seeking illumination
i have no illusions
so why am i lost again?
i am not lacking in bravery
i am even strong
this is not a prayer
help me to understand
the trees are obscuring my view
take me up to the hills
show me the path i should follow
send a message, a comet, a flash
clear away all the clouds
so i can see the moon
and the brightness of Venus beside
show me my guiding star

Lone Wolves

when a wolf howls it’s answered

answered by many wolves

the voices of many wolves

repeating back from the hills

but you,

poor fool,

poor human

you can howl

and howl

no answer

echoing back to you

it’s you

and the empty hills

you and the moon

that’s all

Owl

the distant moon is on the wane
circled round with frosted light
it shines upon the silvered grass
and lights the windows of the town
the rooftops wear a coat of white
the night is still, the lamps are lit
the diamond sprinkled stars shine down
the air is chill, the house is quiet
but i would wander back again
to old familiar paths and lanes
where hedgerows cloth the hidden walls
and up above the rounded hill
with all the land stretched out below
from wood to barn in silent flight
the owl swoops past in shadowed night

Seven

One for sorrow.
Time is borrowed.
Lost and broken by our fears
All our dreams will fly away.
When we know our days are few
We treasure all we have by this,
No time to waste in bitter tears,
The years will pass us soon enough

Two for joy,
When dreams come true.
For every sorrow, comes a kiss
And love is found, in simple things.
Profound delight, the way to bliss,
The bursting throat, the leaping heart,
The song of life the blackbird sings.
Bring the rainbows, bring the flowers,
Joy is brief and flies away.
Remember it in darker hours

Three for the gentle girl i met.
So easily she passed me by.
I never thought to question her
Where she went or even why.
Three times she passed,
Three times she went
And now she’s here,
Before time’s spent

Four for the boy, now a man
He tries to grow, he tries to know,
He tries to do the best he can
And in the trying finds his strength.

Five is starlight’s silver sparkle.
The moon above shines down on us,
Pulls the tides where waters flow.
Silver rings and ankle bells,
Unicorns and secret spells
Mark the paths for those who know,
In the land where magic dwells

Six for gold, the loving cup,
The treasure of the alchemists
Wrapped in story,
Ancient rhymes
All the mysteries unfold

Seven, the secret never told
The one we learn as we grow old
Seven Sisters in the sky
And all the stars mapped out above
Predicting love and harmony
And we so blind we do not see
Eternity may beckon us.

The wise ones never know the answer
There is no truth in certainty.

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

Based on this old magpie omens rhyme ………

One for sorrow
Two for joy
Three for a girl
Four for a boy
Five for silver
Six for gold
Seven for a secret never to be told

Sorrow

the dark is full of shining stars
the moon will fade tomorrow

the morning sun is coming up
these things are sure as turning fate
but i can only sit and wait
the night will surely follow

the house is there but we are not
no fire burns within the grate
now the hour is growing late
home and my heart are hollow

no matter how the birds may sing
I sit here full of sorrow

The Loom of Years by Alfred Noyes

In the light of the silent stars that shine on the struggling sea,
In the weary cry of the wind and the whisper of flower and tree,
Under the breath of laughter, deep in the tide of tears,
I hear the Loom of the Weaver that weaves the Web of Years.

The leaves of the winter wither and sink in the forest mould
To colour the flowers of April with purple and white and gold:
Light and scent and music die and are born again
In the heart of a grey-haired woman who wakes in a world of pain.

The hound, the fawn, and the hawk, and the doves that croon and coo,
We are all one woof of the weaving and the one warp threads us through,
One flying cloud on the shuttle that carries our hopes and fears
As it goes thro’ the Loom of the Weaver that weaves the Web of Years.

The green uncrumpling fern and the rustling dewdrenched rose
Pass with our hearts to the Silence where the wings of music close,
Pass and pass to the Timeless that never a moment mars,
Pass and pass to the Darkness that made the suns and stars.

Has the soul gone out in the Darkness? Is the dust sealed from sight?
Ah, hush, for the woof of the ages returns thro’ the warp of the night!
Never that shuttle loses one thread of our hopes and fears,
As it comes thro’ the Loom of the Weaver that weaves the Web of Years.

O, woven in one wide Loom thro’ the throbbing weft of the whole,
One in spirit and flesh, one in body and soul,
Tho’ the leaf were alone in its falling, the bird in its hour to die,
The heart in its muffled anguish, the sea in its mournful cry,

One with the flower of a day, one with the withered moon
One with the granite mountains that melt into the noon
One with the dream that triumphs beyond the light of the spheres,
We come from the Loom of the Weaver that weaves the Web of Years.

The first little story I ever wrote – which grew into a book

The Day Moon Met the Raven

A man who had for some time been travelling the road in all weathers, sat down at the roadside under a sheltering tree. His jacket was richly embroidered but his leather boots were dusty and worn from long walking. He had little coin in his purse but his pouch was full of papers covered with poems and interesting thoughts gathered here and there. He was tired, too tired to even be capable of assessing his own mood at that moment. He was, he thought, probably content.

As the sun sank and dusk fell he looked up and saw the moon rise and he realised that it was the Autumn Equinox, when the length of the day and the night, darkness and light, are equal. As he relaxed and watched the moon climb higher into the sky his mind drifted and he began to assess his own life, dispassionately. His memory drifted here and there across many years.

Awakening from his trance he realised that he had been joined by a white cat and a raven. He thought they must be hungry and began to feel in his pocket for food of some kind but the Raven, seeing his intention, said,

”Sir, don’t let us trouble you, for we are not hungry. We came to sit beside you only because your appearance interested us.”

With that, they began to discuss him as if he was not there, but also as though they could read all his thoughts.

The cat said ”He seems to me a miserable man with a sad life. Look at his boots and the lines that run down by the sides of his mouth, Raven, and he clearly has no money. I would say he is a terrible failure. He has nothing. He looks homeless and I am convinced he has no wife and no children.”

She paused to clean an ear with her paw and looked thoughtful.

” I expect he has travelled much too, and those types who keep feeling the need to move on seldom manage to keep many friends. Doubtless he is also unemployed or he wouldn’t be sitting here dreaming. It all looks like doom and gloom to me. How very sad! ”

”Squawk,” said the Raven, cocking his head at the man and considering, ” I see him quite differently. I see a man with laughter lines round his eyes and he clearly loves beauty, just look at the jacket he wears! And he may not have much in the way of coin but he is generous with what he does have or he would not have begun to search for food when he saw us. He is kind I think. He does seem to have a lot of papers in his pouch and I suspect, by the dreamy look in his eyes, that they are poems so maybe he has, not a job, but a talent. Also he is tall and strong and I doubt he lacks for food. I suspect he is also armed, a dagger slipped into his boot perhaps.”

The Raven hopped onto the man’s shoulder to get a closer look. The man smiled at that.

”As for being much travelled, well yes, but is it really true to say that a rolling stone gathers no moss? True, he probably has left friends and loved ones behind, but just imagine all he has seen on the way and all of the people he has met. I think he has had a rich life and must be happy and could even be congratulated.”

The Raven and the Cat then proceeded to squabble and the man feared the Raven might be eaten, so he spoke.

”May I interject in this argument for the sake of your peace?”

”Yes, please do”, said the Raven, hoping for an end to the fight and some wisdom.

”I suppose so” said the Cat, shrugging and sounding gloomy, ”Much good may it do, for I expect none.” She sat grooming herself again, looking bored.

”Well” said the man, ”It seems to me that you both see things from only one point of view. You, dear Cat, are entirely negative and this charming Raven sees only the good and the positive in all.”

”So”, said the Cat, expecting to lose the argument, ”Tell me I am wrong then. Go on.”

At that the Raven looked pleased but sighed in a way only a bird can.

”The truth is,” said the man, ”that you are both right but without each other you are both wrong.”

”How so Sir?” said the Raven, looking puzzled.

”I am both happy and sad.” the man replied, ”The sum of all you say is true. But if only the negative was true I would just sit here and give up and if only the positive part were true then I would have learned nothing. The positive and the negative work together in my life. Joy is my desire and I have often had it but I know that sorrow, which I also have had, can bring depth to feeling and we can’t appreciate the one without the other. So I sit in the middle and am content. We all need balance!”

With that, the man stood up.

”I will continue my journey now”, he said. ”I wish you both well and safe paths.”

The cat turned her back and pretended to look at something else, as Cats always do when embarrassed and the Raven said,

”Sir I will come with you if I may. I have always liked travel. I sense that you are restless at night and perhaps when you are tired I can lighten your day?”

The man smiled and nodded his head. As he began to walk off he said, under his breathe,

‘’Gold leaves spin, falling, bringing sadness and delight. The balance is held.’’

 

 

Summer Solstice

 

This short sweet night is full of stars,
crossing slowly east to west,
the circle of the ancient stones
by dark and moonlight blessed.

The air alive with music now,
soft steps and voices echo.
Through the tender bending trees,
They enter to the clearing.

The circling dancers, as before,
leave traces where their steps fall
on grass in silvered shining dew.
The dark of night is fleeting.

They come to silent rest at dawn
to stand and watch in awe
the line of light rise in the east,
grow swift to sun, uplifting,
to reclaim the turning year
in blazing light and glory.

This day’s the longest in the year,
tomorrows will be shorter.

Each moon passes swiftly.

Then we’ll dance into the dark
retelling the old stories.
We’ll sit beside our winter fires
’til summer comes, repeating

Blue Silent and Deep

blue silent and deep
loud white rolling
thundering in
green light through wave curl
sun sparkle shimmering
drawn back slowly, heavy
to rush fast back toward me again
holding my eyes for fast passing hours
captured in a spell
moving with my breath
the moons pull
spins me in force
pulls me down
throws me out
gasping to the sky