Midnight Journeys

This poem was inspired, in small part, by several things; listening to a track from Epitaph called "Visions", remembering the early King Crimson and my own "Warlord Suite". Some of the themes can be heard here though none of them really predominate and this end result is something that is mine. Well, see what you think...





Midnight Journeys - 12 Dec 11

Leaving a trail
Of feathers
Whispering
Of Moon-dark Journeys
And tales
Of secret meetings
On the Temple steps

We
Touched
And
Held

The peacock sings
A mellow song
Of wandering jesters
And tired jokes
Heard only by those
Who know and smile
At the wistful words
And gentle sounds

Kissed
Under
The
Trees

The watchers did not
Understand…but only stood
And swayed
To a random rhythm
Created in thunder
Petted the phœnix’
Fiery back
Regardless of the flames

Lay
On
Silken
Sheets

Watching the serpents
Dance around the staff
Our eyes entranced
We dream the Moon
Into the day
Pull her close to us
Taste sweet kisses
On the fabric of her robe

Midnight
Journeys
In
Dream





The joke here is "the peacock's mellow song" - have you heard a peacock call?

In the Moment of the Rising Dream

This is another of the poems which took a little while to fully emerge, the main title and the section titles appeared first - followed a few hours later by the first and third sections. The central section only appeared after a full day but I feel that the wait was worth it.

The terms "first contact" and "last contact" are space-watchers terms to denote the moments when the leading edge and the trailing edge of the observed thing, like the Moon, appears above then clears the sky-line.





In the Moment of the Rising Dream - 09 Dec 11


First Contact

The church bell
Starts to call the midnight hour
Ensnares my mind
Thoughts drifting In the cage
Of yesterday


Transit


She stood
Stared
Into the fountain’s mirror
Rippled image

She tried to catch
The fleeting shapes
As they left a trail
Across her mind

Glittering in the dark
Trying to rival
The stars
They shine

Dream fragments
Show untidily
Disturbed by the fading
Bell


Last Contact

Once the echoes
Faded
Broken Into single tones
Teased my memories
Tomorrow starts to run





I hope you enjoy this new offering. Thank you Muse for your prompting.

She Waits / Night Prison

This poem didn't take too long to write but, I have to admit this, I have no idea where it came from. The words just seemed to tumble out onto the "page" and shaped themselves into two interlinked tracts, the four-line and five-line stanzas can be read as individual three-stanza poems or, as I have posted them here - a unified work. See what you think...





She Waits / Night Prison - 09 Dec 11

Nearly closed
The rusted iron gates
Wrapped with ivy
Pretend to defend

In veils of mist
She waits…
Her tender fingers beckon
Asking me
To touch

In a cloudless sky
Leafless trees ensnare the Moon
Hold her prisoner
Ransom demanded of the Sun

Tendrils of the night
Mist
Snags her gown
In cold and wet
She waits

Dawn so long away
Colours of imagining
No brush
To drag them ‘cross the sky

Ivy will take her tears
Gratitude for sadness
Feed upon the salty drops
Endlessly waiting
She invites me





I thank Muse for starting me off on a new voyage of discovery, always wondering where these will lead.

Shades

Another poem that seemed to want to stay on the back-burner for a fairly long time but it now feels ready to release into the blog.





Shades - 28 Nov 11

In the pre-dawn dark
I watched the sparks
From the fire of night
Spiral to the sky
To call the coming Sun

Shades of night
Still dance
In courtly manner
In the corners
Of the world’s dreams

Our dreams now take
Centre stage
Confident
They walk
Leading our waking selves

Shades of day
Banished
Dreams now brighter
Than the Sun
Fill our eyes

Light on the path
All around us
Leading the way
Listen to the music…
Let us dance





This is also another of the Muse inspired songs - She likes to keep me thinking.

The Cloister Bell

The opening line of this poem had been in my mind for a couple of days, though I had no idea where it was leading me...till yesterday, when more started to grow and the end result I now present here.

Cloister Cemetery in the Snow
Caspar David Friedrich
[1810]

The Cloister Bell - 24 Nov 11

The Cloister bell
…Cracked…
Rang in discord
Across the endless snow
…Muffled…
Crows, rooks and ravens
In funereal waed
Cluster round
The fresh dug grave
Eye the stones
With their worn-out words
Unread through ages
Hooded eyes watch
With predatory air

Landscape mocks
White on black
The mourners
Black on white

A solitary scarlet rose
Cast upon the ground
Mocks blood
Soon hidden by the snow
Ignored by the birds

Then silence
Save the Cloister bell
Tolling





One word may need to be explained ~ Waed [pronounced “weed”] is an Old English word meaning, “garment”. It still is in use, with the spelling "weed", in the phrase "widow's weeds"
referring to the mourning clothes.

I thank my Muse for hinting so strongly about what I needed to do for this poem.

This is my offering for:
http://dversepoets.com/2011/11/29/openlinknight-week-20/

Fading Dreams

I was watching some tracks on YouTube when a few words heard, or probably misheard, triggered some words of my own to start to come together in my mind. This is an antithesis of the usual love poems that have been appearing here, I just feel that my brain wanted to scribe something different.





Fading Dreams - 21 Nov 11

Fading dreams
A handful of petals
Crumbling now…
In my pocket the thorns
Remind me
Blood on my fingertips
I taste the salt

Dawn was not a release
Cloud smudged the sun
Night held on
To the thoughts
That birthed the
Dreams
Spewed them into the morning

Dreams are all I really had
Once shining bright
Now tattered, tarnished
Cast to rust
Across the ground
I rise into the cold
Followed by the fading dreams





I hasten to say here that this poem is in no way autobiographical and nothing should be read into these words except the random triggering that my Muse offers.

This is my offering for...
http://dversepoets.com/2011/11/22/open-link-night-week-19/

and...
http://poetryjaam.blogspot.com/2011/11/paradise-lost.html

Ocean Dreaming

Listening to a piece of music, I was suddenly aware that Muse was nudging me again. The words came together over a short time and I was left wondering if I could add the music here with the poem - no obvious method so I shall have to consider alternative ways - on with the poem.





Ocean Dreaming - 17 Oct 11

The embers of the fading day
Mostly ash
But glows, still
Chase around
Like earthbound
Northern Lights

You held me close
As we watched
The last glimmer of the sun
Burnish the horizon

Ocean dreaming
Captivated us
Melded with our own dreams
To feed us
Show us
New worlds





Muse offers things in, sometimes, the strangest ways.

Night...Filled

Another poem, the seeds were sown just after midnight and it flowered about an hour later, the title emerged just as I was typing it up before posting it here.





Night...Filled - 09 Oct 11

Sunshine hiding all day long
Behind a veil of cloud
Darkness gathers round my house
To hold the light within

In my rooms
She waited
Singing softly
Songs of enchantment
Songs of love
Words to bind us
Gently
For Eternity

I watched the darkness
Filled with her song
Moths danced
To her words

I felt her call
Deep within me
Irresistible
I would not resist…
Her song
Echoed mine

I turned
Went to her





I love these Love songs that Muse inspires me to write.

Rain : Two Views

Each part of this poem was birthed separately but in the very early hours of the morning, like fraternal twins, related but in no way identical. Each was inspired by something seen; in the first, the way that the landscape was lost in the cloud - in the second, street lamplight refracted by raindrops on my window.





Rain : Two Views - 06 Oct 11

I

Rain
Blurs the boundaries
Between sky and earth
Rain
Blurs the boundaries
Between mind and reality


II

Stars dropped by the clouds
Scattered
Thrown against my window
By the wind
Random patterns
Rain constellations





Muse has a rather interesting way of showing me things, to inspire thoughts which then have to be written down - no matter the hour or place.

Night Flight

The opening line of this poem had been drifting in and out of my consciousness for the whole afternoon till, in the late evening, it emerged with more than I had expected in the way of content.





Night Flight - 03 Oct 11

On tattered wings she flew
Through night’s
Spangled dome
Onward
Toward a fleeting dawn

Her lover
…Waited
In a distant land
On a distant shore
…Listened
To the wind soughing
Through the grass
Rattling the stems
…Watched
As the waves danced
To the rhythm of the breeze
…Called
With his mind
Come to me

Owls circled him
Whispered
She is on the way
She will be here
Soon

She saw his spark
On the beach
And knew
They would be
Together forever





There are several small inspiration points in this poem all coming together in these stanzas.