On the Journey

I really must remember to make notes to myself so that I can recall what inspired a poem into creation, at the very least it would enable me to make some properly valid comment when posting them here. Otherwise you will just have to continue to put up with this general space-filling chatter.

[Thankful that you can't see me grinning]

I cannot recall what caused this poem to be birthed but it seems appropriate now, several events in my life are suddenly important and this poem was chosen totally at random. These things seem to mesh together in a way that tells me that Soul is giving me a nudge - again.




On the Journey 26 Oct 02

I have been watching
You move
In your dreamtime

I have been listening to
You talk
To your spirits


In those dreams
And those conversations
We have communed
More deeply
Than we ever did
Before


In my dreams
In my speech
I have learned my truth


And I open up my mind
And my eyes
I open up my ears,
And my soul
Can see
Where I'm going






This may have triggered something in the way you view things and think too, comments are invited - if you feel like giving some feedback.

Until my next offering - take care - Love to you.

Elements

This poem was inspired by explorations into Wicca and what it could offer. What I discovered, is not really relevant to this poem but some of the images are too strong to ignore. Here they are, entangled with a flavour of the Tarot as well but these things are not necessary for the reader to know - just let the feel of the images wash over you.



Elements 13 Jan 96

The circle drawn
Upon the dusty wooden floor
Polished by the feet
Of ages past

Chalk lines
Evoking, invoking
Charming, controlling
Lit by the candles
Five-fold flicker

Air
Incense intangible
Wreathe writhe
Around about
Paints the air
With perfumed smoke

Fire
Candle burning
Illuminating
Enlightening the dark
Lighting the way

Water
Cauldron and chalice
Drink the life blood
Taste the life
Drink deep

Earth
Stone dark
Pentacle
To touch and rest
The weary pilgrim feet
A fool's quest
Starts with but a single step

Spirit
You and I
We see and
Touch and
Taste
We travel on
Our footsteps synchronous
The dance of life
In the circle dance




There is a little hint of Joni Mitchell here too in the reference to 'The Circle Dance', I hope she doesn't mind that I borrowed it for this poem.

More things to come...soon.

Before I Get There & Mist

Just two short poems this time, they are thematically linked and were written on consecutive days but refer to the same journey from London to my beloved Cornwall. The first is a set of three Senryū, you may have noticed - it is one of my favourite verse forms.



Before I Get There 05 Sep 85

From London, a road
Serpentine, westward leading
Taking me homeward

City walls fading
In the east. Granite hedges
Are beckoning me

Sunrise behind me.
I watch the shadows shorten
And leave the ocean



Mist 06 Sep 85

Gradually
Time sliding into an afternoon
Of peace
The haze of autumn
Stretched and torn
By hills and trees
Left, lying abandoned
In the hollows



Back again before too long

Illusions

I had hoped that I would have something totally new to put up today but it wasn't to be. Instead I delve back into my past, again, to offer you this poem - showing you, once again, where I seem to be for most of my life, in the...



Illusions 27 Oct 96

Under the light
Of a new full moon
Wishing that things were different

Knowing that
Even in the cold daylight
Of an autumn day
Things are never what they seem

Night is day
And day...
Who can really tell

Illusions sing and dance
And play the fool
Dare to pull the beard of the goat

That which we wish
May hap. Has hap!
Is already happening
Though not necessarily in the way
We wish

We wish




It is not such a bad place to be, provided that you have full awareness of the illusion and can play it for what it is and can slide from one to the other without causing ripples in everyone else's illusions of reality.

On that note...back again soon.

Fires

After yesterdays creation my brain required a little rest, so I take a journey back into my history to present this short poem. It was written to convey a hope for the future when darkness is all around.

I offer...



Fires 26 Feb 03

When the fires of autumn
Have all grown cold
And burned to ash
I will be there

Through the cold nights
Of winter I will be waiting
And watching the glow
Dance around the embers

And then, when the sun
Touches the trees in spring
Igniting the blossom
I will fan the spark

And watch the fire grow

Image by dragon762w via Flickr

That's it for now, back again sometime soon...

Both Sides - All Sides

This is another example of the type of poem I write fairly often, one that explores several views of something.

The first two parts 'came through' almost complete as usual and it was only when I had nearly finished writing it out that I realised that there was a third section to come, I allowed the flow and this is what appeared...



Both Sides - All Sides 14 Jul 09


Me

I dreamed in the night
It was a distant place
I think
Was it past, was it future
Or was it even now?
I cannot even try
To guess

But she was there...
Watching me
As she has done
So many times
Very many times
Before

I waved
But although
I knew she saw me
All she did
Was let her gentle smile
Wash over me


Thee

She dreamed in the night
It was a distant place
I knew
Not the past or future but
In the eternal now
We had built
For ourselves

Now I am here
Watching you
As I have always done
Every time
You came here
Before

You waved
And I saw you
But I knew that
It would not be right
I smiled so you would know
That I saw you


We

We dreamed in the night
It was no place that we
Could ever know
Without past or future
It was no-when
The only place
We could be

We were there
Just watching
As we have always done
In that eternal place
We have always
Before

We didn't wave
Our hands were too busy
Holding each other
Embracing
Our smiles
Intermingled



There are everal points of inspiration for this poem but if I were to tell of them the magic would be removed - and that would never do.

Comments, as ever, are invited...back again soon with the next offering.

See the Winter Dance

I know that this is not the right time of year for this poem to be shown but it felt really good when I re-read it for the first time in several years. In any case, someone may come across this blog at some point in the future and it may well be winter.

Often when I am going through my old poems, or whatever, I look at them and actually question who I was when I wrote them. Guess I will never really know the answer to that question and the exploration of this whole area will be the subject of...what? Another blog perhaps, I shall have to water this seed and see what sprouts.



See the Winter Dance 22 Feb 97

See the winter dance
Across the fields
Through the trees
Among the scarecrows
Whose failed works
Allow the feathered fiends
To plunder the barren fields

See the winter dance
Watch her paint her
Frosted colours
Paling honours
In the fading sunlight
Shadows stretched between
The night and the day

See the winter dance
Between the lifeless trees
Upon the sleeping land
Over the frozen lake
Scattering, from her hands
The leaves, the snowflakes
The drifts that hold your dreams

See the winter dance
Dreaming, she holds
The summer in her hands.
Wishing for the days
When the warmth of his love
Touches her soul

See the winter dance
As she kisses the spring
Leading him in the dance
That leads to the new life
And to her death
Willing release
Though knowing that
She will return
Return --- so

See the winter dance




Till next time...in a different season...or maybe a different world.

Winter

I had a conversation last night about Japanese poetry and the syllabic forms they are constructed with, most of the poems I have written, in the Japanese style, are in the Senryū mode even though I used to call them Haikū - the content wasn't spiritual so the Senryū name should really apply.

The syllabic form of these two types of poem is in the form of three lines comprising 5:7:5 syllables and is fairly well known and quite popular everywhere.

I did write one poem in another style, the one here, said style being Tanka, the construction is 5:7:5:7:7 syllables. I have to admit that I really prefer the Senryū form - like the ink images where just a few strokes make the image, a few lines of writing can make a really vivid image.

I wish to apologise for this waffling but felt that it was necessary to explain a bit of the background to the poem, sorry if you already knew this; I now present my only ever Tanka poem...



Winter 14 Jun 75

Winter passed, as though
A flock of heron - winging
Southward, shed feathers
White. I dreamt of frozen lakes
And streams but found not one.



Only the one poem today because I have been waffling too much, said he grinning.

July Senryū

I was asked recently, how is it that I went to bed so late - and why? I think that the answer to both parts of the question is that I am encouraged to do this by one of my spirit guides. Owl assists access to wisdom and vision and, rather surprisingly - play. I do a lot of my most productive things in the very early hours of the day and this is often when I am shown the little things that grow into poems, stories and whatever else.

This is just one example of this assistance...



July Senryū 12 Jul 09

I

Tasting the night air
Watching clouds skip across stars,
Jewels in the sky


II

Feeling dawn approach
Look eastward, sun rising - he
Tints clouds, magenta

Image via Wikipedia

I realise that talk of spirit guides and spirit animals and the like may well alienate some of my readers but I just have to 'say it as I feel it' and if this offends your sensibilities, I am sorry.

To those of you still with me...be with you again next time and in the meantime, watch the sunrise and smile.

Metronome

The poem I had intended to post still isn't cooked yet, I fear that it may be rather too stringy and may never reach the light of day.

The poem I offer instead was written yesterday afternoon and the content is still valid today, unfortunately. Well the variety is special and should be welcomed.



Metronome 10 Jul 09

Tap tap tap
On the conservatory roof
A leaky gutter
Fed by the drizzle
From the low-flying cloud.
The tops of the hills
Have been stolen

Fifty-one beats a minute
Tap too slow for a heart
Tap too fast for a stroll
Tap in the park
Tap too wet
Tap to try



Maybe it will dry out soon - please?

Image via Wikipedia