I had been waiting for the nudge from Muse for a little while. I was looking at a scrap of paper with a few random lines that had come to me over the last week. I suddenly realised that these were not in the right order - a few changes were made and suddenly it grew into what you see here.
Haunting Whispers - 24 Aug 09
In the pregnant, poignant times Torn from the spaces Between our words My thoughts reside Beside the unspoken questions, Questioning what we are doing To ourselves.
The pain in our eyes Is clear to see For those who care to look... But, who looks? You? Me? I dare not Even peek Between fingers Pressed against my eyes
I cannot hide from the whispers The echoes of forgotten Words and thoughts We spoke so long ago Can we make them fade? Only a few small words Can drown them out But dare we say "I love you" Again?
Before anyone asks, this poem is not autobiographical - not from this life anyway. I have to admit that the emotions I felt while writing these words were rather stronger than I had anticipated and so may well be another echo from times past.
This is another of my poems which reflect a certain sense of not being in the place I am supposed to be. This is a feeling that has followed me for very many years and I probably never will totally get away from it.
I hope that writing about my feelings will assist the process of coming to terms with them.
Outside - 24 Feb 88
Outside The grey of day Deepens into night. Beside me A gentle stream Of music, Drum and voice Plays sad tales Of other years In times gone by.
Many of my poems have a sad theme running through them, it makes them rather more poignant, I feel.
I felt that I really wanted to post this today, there is a feeling that indications of new beginnings are about to make themselves very clear and this poem gives an indication of this feeling.
Fire - 14 Oct 00
Cold Banished by the thoughts Of a new-found day A new-found fire. Darkness Was a boundary Which none could cross But now On wings of flame We fly Soaring In the moonkissed sky Carrying our dreams Into the light Nurturing Helping them to grow To flourish, to bloom To seed The next generation, To set them on their path.
I'm not going to say any more here, I will just allow this poem to stand by itself and invite comments - as usual.
A poem created late in the day - or it may have been very early in the day. It addresses some of the fears of any writer...read on.
Revelations - 28 Dec 83
Sitting in the darkness Writing by the light from a streetlamp Wondering if the scrawl Will be legible in the cold Light of day Perhaps the time Will be wasted Perhaps it will not. There's always the chance That I'll be misunderstood The timing of the revelation Is always critical And the fear is that I have got it wrong.
I cannot be certain what the revelation was that triggered the poem, the memory of this is lost in the mists of time and may never be recalled but I feel the poem stands the test of time.
I originally started to write this poem as a rather cynical response to the concept of 'organised religion' but as I wrote the words, the feel changed.
Midnight Mass - 23 Aug 01
The words of the priest Echo down the aisle The forgotten prayers Of countless years Hidden In the late night Schemes The darkness of The midnight mass
He called the faithful To prayer Of those who answered Only the faithful Only the fearful Managed to say the words And sing the hymns And chant the responses Of the mass
Body and Soul In the midnight hour When darkness touches the heart And minds of the faithful This is the Body The open mouth accepts This is the Blood And sips, tasting the life.
In the echoes, in the aisle Footsteps falter The darkness gathers And in the midnight hour A gentle touch A hand touches the brow Of the priest His face illumined By the Light And he knows He is here, She is here We is
The poems I write are my personal feelings and thoughts and are not meant as any kind of insult to any religion or individual belief pattern.
If you don't like the thoughts behind any of my works please do not hesitate to tell me, I would be interested in what you have to say. Come to that, if you do like these thoughts you can tell me that too...
I have been accused of being an Incurable Romantic, this poem may well be the final note in that symphony - no chance, there are many more to come from the inner me.
The Wind from the Sun - 06 Nov 02
Our love Was born in flame Burn Bright enough To shine through the rain And throw A crystal spectrum Across our soul
We watched the sunset On a thousand worlds Then drank the dawn And intoxicated Walked hand in hand Along the shore Of eternity Feel the gentle waves Caress our feet Sweep the sand Ahead of us into a carpet Of flowers
We were Born for each other We chose to be Together Again And again
Our spirits intertwined Try to escape... We might as well Try to outrun The wind from the sun
Another bid for the crown of Incurable Romantic - maybe more to come fairly soon.
This little poem arrived without any real warning to me that it was on the way. The links here are to a few points in my past, without which this poem could never have been born.
Broken Promises - 16 Aug 09
Isn't it strange? After all the talk And the games And the promises We made...
I reached for you Tried to touch you And you weren't there As you promised I waited I waited for you to arrive But...
You said that we Would never part And that our love Was eternal We promised That we would stay Together Forever And you said that you Would be there for me
I never realised That promises Were so fragile And could be broken Without a thought
But still I wait For you
I shall wait
My poetic mind embroiders the memory of what was reality and presents it's own version, this is how and why this vision appeared. Nothing I have been through is as heavy as I can portray it as being...though it makes a good story.
Just a short poem today and one which has a really different feel to those I have shown before.
I cannot recall what, or who, actually inspired this poem into being, it was a long time ago. Whatever it was, it must have made quite an impact on me at the time, even though this inspiration has passed.
Destiny's Journal - 22 Feb 88
In the shuttered spaces In the tombs In the temples Catacombs and echoing vaults You shall find me
Feeding on the darkness Riding on the nightmare You come for me
I know that we shall meet Our conflict in Destiny's Journal Inscribed, bound and sealed We shall meet
I often wonder how many faces Muse has - and how many are yet to be shown to me.
Back to the poems today but who knows what will come from this page in the future.
Riding in the Dark - 08 Nov 02
Break the silence With a cry in the dark A midnight dream Disturbs your sleep The mare leaps Across your bed And drags you screaming Into a darkness of your own The dread you feel Is yours alone To keep If you choose
Break the tension With a cry in your dream Shatter the bonds Of the midnight schemes In your sleep, in your dreams Tame the mare Ride her 'cross the fields Of the dark night Thoughts, Ride her till the dawn Comes to light the way, Now she is yours And the ride will be sweet
Ride on Claim the light in the dark The stars are yours To claim If you wish
Just a quick posting today because it is later than I had intended - there shall be more soon.
As a change from the poems I usually post here, I offer a short story. It is the first of a sequence, I probably will not post any further stories in this series, instead I wait for the whole thing to fully manifest and become a novella - or whatever.
Sya-Eeshan - Jan 84
From my vantage point high on Mount Kakarinka I looked down over the island, stretched in its serpentine way across the ocean. Twelve of the thirteen city towers were visible, fairly clearly, despite the early morning haze that shrouded the dawn over Ocean. The thirteenth, I knew, lay behind me in the west, for I had just climbed from there to take one last look before I left this world.
There was a fluttering noise behind me and a sharp down-draft shook the dew from the bracken, startling the Tent-web spiders into running for cover. I did not look round for I knew who it was. For a moment before she spoke, silence reigned broken only by the distant cries of the Yellow Gulls.
"Kefan. Must you leave?" Her voice, as always, sent goose-pimples chasing each other down my back.
"You know I must, Sya-Eeshan. I explained to you why I have to leave."
"Can you not hide? They will not miss you."
"Oh Sya-Eeshan, you know that; if I could, if there was some way, I would stay. This world means more to me now than my own. You mean more to me than any other person I have ever known...but I have warned you, have I not, that when the message comes ordering my return I must obey." I found it difficult to complete my little speech as, increasingly, I found my voice trying to break and the lump in my throat was becoming harder to swallow past.
Finally Sya-Eeshan pushed past me and stood with her back to the edge of the cliff. Staring straight into my eyes, a torrent of tears streaming unashamedly down her cheeks and dripping onto her small, beautiful breasts. Even with her face set into a rigid mask of intense sorrow she was painfully beautiful.
"Sya-Eeshan, I am sorry..."
"I will never forget you Kefan." She turned away, her toes overhung the cliff-edge. "Good-bye Kefan, try to remember me." She pushed herself forward over the edge and dropped like a stone for a hundred metres before spreading her golden wings and soaring in a long sweeping curve out of sight.
I had taken one involuntary step forward with my arms outstretched before I could control myself. My vision was heavily clouded; tears, stained blood-red by the first rays of Nyess as it pulled itself above the horizon, dripped from my open eyes.
Savagely, I wiped my face with the back of my hand and turned away from the view. Feeling more weary than I had ever felt, I started on the long walk down to the plain of Kreek-nye.
This is the first story in a sequence entitled [provisionally] the 'Farewell Fragments' - your comments are particlularly invited.
I wanted to take a look at this poem for a long time, I was rather put off when I discovered that the wrong poem was hiding behind the document title. While looking for something completely unrelated to it, I was pleased to come across a folder containing a printed version. It is now filed and I present it here for your reading pleasure.
Moonchildren - Moondancing - 18 Apr 02
Your dreams Scratching at my midnight door Moondancing Attempting to wake me From a starless sleep
A kiss in the darkness And my dreams Aroused Around my watching Soul They weave a merry dance Calling the dream To watch and witness The vows We make
If my memory serves me well, this poem was born when I saw ice-crystals in my garden reflecting the light from a street lamp and the moon and images arrived rapidly - all I had to do was transcribe them and place them on a pad.
Stolen Dreams - 27 Dec 00
Stolen dreams Pieced together from the fragments Formed, reformed Of our nightmares
Forgotten shards Glinting on the ground Between the blades of grass Each holding a separate memory Of an image Held and lived then lost In the night While stars danced around me
Captive songs Tell of those moments in the lives When tears and laughter Blended in our fears
Forgotten days Flying before the sun Riding through the midday heat Clutching at the bubbles of the thoughts Formed, insubstantial, as we drift From moment to moment To moment In which we think We think
A change of mood and feel today but not so very much I feel.
This was originally written about someone I knew, the story is somewhat embellished but the overall feeling is certainly valid and is a sort of warning, to myself and everyone else too, about being careful where you put your energies.
Finding Freedom - 12 Jul 03
You have the power I do not have the strength To draw you away from me I cannot spell My incantations Will not work And you draw me Into your web To ensnare me In the darkness Of your time
When I awoke I realised That you did not really Have the strength Or the power To hold me So I played Taking your strength Taking your power To me
And then I woke And you have no power Over me I can create the spell I sing the incantations That will allow me To be free Of your web And your darkness is no more
Never wanting to make that kind of connection ever again.
This poem is dedicated specifically to Muse, she comes to me in different ways and with different moods but always with inspiration.
In thanks, I offer...
Questing - 15 Jun 92
When I learned to speak and write Words like these came slowly. Feelings that are commonplace Now Were hard to find, to touch, to see. It was difficult to find The real me Amongst the others claiming to be I. In a slow progression The quest commenced And passed through phases strange Where I's of dimensions Odd and unusual Walked the nights and days Of the soul Stalked the wind and the ways, Where poets danced And sat and dreamed their timeless dreams And drank the wine The Muse had poured Into the gilded chalice. Once tasted, the bittersweet draught Is found to be addictive So now I take my fill, The pain with the pleasure Swallowed in equal measure. Drink, drunk, intoxicated With her charms, The Muse holds me and I In her spell; Enchanted. Enchantress. She who was and is and will be Guardian, Guide, Protector, Mother, Muse, Lover, Friend. Eternal.
I give thanks to Muse; for pain and pleasure both give rise to wondrous things.
I started to put together today's blog post and had fully intended to use one of the lighter works, maybe a love song or something. Spirit, however, had other ideas and every folder and every document opened showed things which were somewhat darker than my usual offerings here - not that this poem is particularly dark but the closing stanza is fairly deep.
I am not going to argue but instead have chosen to post the lightest of the poems I looked at.
Protecting - 26 Oct 85
Night wraps her hands around me Enfolding my body in her grasp Protecting Fending dæmons from my mind, My eyes, my soul. In the darkness Moon dancing Running rings around the Earth Star singing Songs of all the ancient Gods
The morning Comes too easily I don't know Where I am going Or where I really want to be
As with all these offerings, if you can see anything that looks like a really hidden meaning [something I haven't pointed out in the post] feel free to make a comment - they are always welcome. Don't hesitate...leap in - the water's fine.
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