the boats rock at their moorings
i can smell the sun on your skin
and all night the sea salt stays
in the tangles of your hair
i stroke the curve of your near thigh
as the morning sun rises
i await your opening eyes
the clouds are moving fast above
clearing to blue skies, pale horizons,
a distant curve stretched water-wide,
and still you lay in dreams,
lulled by the waves of sleep,
while I dream myself wide awake
The autumn air is full of scents
as if to prove the truth and worth
of beauty in decay.
It lifts my flagging spirits up.
My sadness drains away.
Breathing deeply I inhale,
and exhale all my pain,
but then I journey on to home
and I am lost again.
I feel as though I cannot rise.
However much the sun may shine
it’s fractured through a screen of tears.
Like morning mists that softly fade
or shattered rainbows after rain,
love always disappears.
I seek it deep, inside my heart,
but doubt that I can prise it out
and feel the fault is mine.
I hope and pray, and scream and shout,
that all may pass in time
or sleep will come and I forget
that you were ever nearly mine
while I still wanted more.
Love’s a torment.
Love is cruel
Love rips me to my core
and proves that I’m as much a fool
as I was before.
I dare not look ahead or back
for there’s no more of love in life
than loneliness or dread permits
and so i go
along the road,
the road that lies ahead,
on and on, the road ahead,
until the light is dead
don’t sleep, silent angels glide on feathered feet
in this place of many doors
those of us who blame the gods are only unaware
of angels standing at our backs when we are in despair
silent angels glide on feathered feet
don’t sleep, silent angels glide on feathered feet
with all the instruments laid out bare
theatres ready, scrubbed to white,
as lives drift in and out of light
silent angels glide on feathered feet
don’t sleep, silent angels glide on feathered feet
the anxious sad relations sip their cups of tea
the chapel here is open, silent, day or night
to catholics and atheists and sinners, all alike
silent angels glide on feathered feet
don’t sleep, silent angels glide on feathered feet
down the low lit corridors
the trolleys come and go
with patients comatose
silent angels glide on feathered feet
don’t sleep, silent angels glide on feathered feet
the final door awaits us all
some of us must morn
and babies will be born
silent angels glide on feathered feet
Sitting beside her hospital bed,
Holding her hand as she sleeps,
I close my eyes for a moment,
Tired. Only tired.
Nothing keeps.
I must look as if I am praying.
I wonder if I should,
But before I frame the words,
The answer makes itself heard.
It’s up there, in the title.
It’s the magical word.
I know it.
I hear it all the time.
I submit. I accept.
I bow low.
I follow the path of the flow.
These instructions come with a warning.
Beware! She might capture you.
The first thing to do is convince yourself
That mermaid tales are true,
Then take a trip to the ocean,
But some inland lakes will do,
And go alone.
Mermaids are very shy.
Never go unprepared.
You will need to take a supply
Of gifts and music and stories.
Some that the sailors knew.
You can’t deceive a mermaid
A mermaid looks right though you
Mermaids love flowers and spices
But go with a heart that’s true
Scatter the beach with spices
Cover the water with flowers
Play to her on a lute
And wait for hours and hours
She will seduce you if she can
She has powers to hypnotise
She sees your soul in an instant
Never look into her eyes
To capture a mermaid don’t use a net
Never use bindings or ropes
You must sing to her very sweetly
Sing of your dreams and your hopes
Trail your hand in the water
Sing yourself to sleep
As you drift between worlds she will come to you
Rising up from the deep
She will want to hold and touch you
She will love you, if you are wise
Never be overbearing
Just take the mermaids hand
When you walk in your sleep, still dreaming,
She will follow you to the land.
from the dark the sunshine comes
and fades again to dark
in hope and loving trust we sleep
to greet the kindling spark
time brings change
i do not fear
i accept the hidden path
love is always here
and that is all we need right now,
high upon the bough,
to sit amongst your singing trees
in harmony and peace
Beloved World, take note of us,
thought we are fleeting in your eyes
we have fought to reach this place
the travelling made us wise
When Arthurs’ Golden Age had ended
and the country fell to mourn,
its true that some fair beauty faded
like the sparkling morning dew.
The earth took on a darker hue.
But I was one who bore him safely,
far away to other shores,
where the mists hung thick and shrouded,
and all good hearts can be renewed.
We sailed close and he was lifted
in our gentle loving arms.
We sang for him to soothe his sleep.
Our sails of gold and white were lovely.
On tender winds we sailed away
to the land where all know kindness
and the fair can ne’er grow old.
We of the Fae have understanding
of the tales to still unfold.
In the fabled land, Avilion,
Arthur sleeps the sleep of dreams.
We laid him in his Tomb to rest.
There, he awaits the day of waking,
in the land that’s ever blessed.
in awoken dreams
there is no further waking
until we must sleep
The Dreaming Path 