I was with my tribe today.
They are often far away.
I know them by the smiles they wear
and the silver in their hair.
They don’t belong here,
nor do I,
but now and then we gather up.
We sing, we dance, we fill the cup,
then homeward I, alone, must go.
This is not sad. I like it so.
dance
Before the Fall
Out of silence,
out of song
rise the mountains and the seas.
Out of mud,
out of slime,
ignited by a spark divine,
crawls the worm,
swims the fish.
The birds their muddied feathers clean.
Out of thought,
out of dreams,
springs the seed, the bud, the egg.
Beneath the trees the Lovers slept
awaiting the eternal beat,
while up above, in balance kept,
the stars formed patterns in the sky,
the sun and moon held pace with time.
Now sounds the drum
of wood and skin
to summon up the tribal kin
to join their hands
and stretch their limbs
in complex, crafted, leaping steps.
The dance of life and death begins.
Warmed by winds and gentle rains,
the harvest fruit is gathered in
with care and deep respect.
Spring, summer, winters cold,
all was pure and full of light,
before the weary world grew old,
before the garden, in neglect,
began it’s dreadful Fall
Mad Hatters Lune
what’s the fuss about?
we’re crazy!
you want to be sane?
i’m not changing hats
or my heart
so come on Alice
let’s make a party
come and dance
while the night is here
don’t wake the sleepers
don’t trust them
they might wreck our dreams
The Book of Love & Imagination
A ballet (machinima) based around my poems.
Full credits are given on the link
Whisperings
There’s a song that wafts so gently
in music faintly heard,
a song with words so fleeting
I cannot hold them still.
Where many paths are meeting
in the tangle of the shadows,
just beyond your glance,
in the patterns of the dance,
from a farewell to a greeting
they will spin you into trance.
In a fluttering of wings, do you hear them speaking?
”No time today for sorrow, no time for needless weeping.
Mortal though you are, follow your own star”
I sense them in a twinkle,
in a gleam, a flash of star-fire
the silver light behind a cloud,
across the moonlight sweeping
in the rhythm of my breathing
and a heart that’s wildly leaping,
to the strings of their desire
”It’s a dream within a dream within a dream”
i hear them whisper
as i rest,
almost sleeping,
almost waking,
only seeming to be here.
An Angel in New Jersey
I flew the far Atlantic
to a place unknown
I flew to see a stranger,
a mystery. to me.
The streets were full of cars,
humming as they passed.
I climbed an empty stair.
The steps were cold and bare.
The door was open wide,
I entered there
A crumpled body,
in the corner of a room.
I knew that he would die
If I had not been there.
I spoke to him
he did not reply.
I cradled him
I shook him
dialled 911
the paramedics didnt come
i left the building at a run
i became so lost out there
the city was so huge
i was in despair
in a square
above the town
an angel came to me
and took me to the river
i saw a spanning bridge
the angel told me wait
don’t cross, the time’s not now
i waited in a rocking boat
by the river shore
and there the man came to me
a woman by his side
i knew she was his bride
dead long years before
he spoke to me
he shook my hand
‘we are going now” he said
i knew that he was dead
they danced off down the street
their happiness complete
i asked the angel ”can i dance?”
”when the time is right” she said
”that dance is for the dead”
Faerie Tree
they danced here yesterday
they dance again today
though you may never see them
they never went away
Girl on the Green (revised)
i saw her on the green
laughing, dancing, she glanced at me
her smile entrancing, soft and warm
i thought i dreamed her face before
like sunlight shining in a glade
all that night i couldn’t sleep
seeing her arms, her hair, her lips
the gentle curve of her hips, her eyes
ah if she would only love me
if i had a treasure house of gold
and a tree where emeralds grew
i would harvest every ounce and go
to give it to her fathers hand
to be allowed to speak alone with her
but what can i, poor minstrel, give
who left all servants and his land
i would be by far the richer man
if she would only love me
the world feels very old to me
though i am but five-and-twenty
emeralds and gold i do not have
but songs i have aplenty
and i would sing them all for her
the world would then be fresher
for she outshines the finest flower
i would give her joy and pleasure
if she could only love me
she dances on the green again
i will take her in the dance for now
turn her, lift her, spin her, hold her.
If luck is kind and favours me
perchance this day I’ll win her.
the world bursts into bud and blossom
the air is filled with scents of May
we will leave this town today
if she will only love me
The Masquerade
she is dressed like an angel
she is so perfect
he thinks
she may sprout wings
flying away in a moment
a heart is embroidered on the cuff
of his well-worn sleeve
it’s enough that she sees it
examines the finely made stitches
and smiles
he sees her eyes
clear, gentle, kind
as she flutters her swan feathered fan
across her lovely face,
a beating wing
allowing a glimpse of her mind
he wears a masque
his eyes, not well hidden,
bewitch her, and keep her there
the music is enchanting
they dance in a dream
tentative touching
they begin to open their hearts
in this harmonious dance
all is agreement
that this trance is worth keeping
preserving, defending, completing
even for life
in the morning
the music has stopped
the masques are removed
he bows, revealing his face,
he sees all that shows
beneath her smile
she curtsies with grace
they move away slowly
one unwilling step at a time
A Minstrels Art
To the tune of Midnight, performed by Loreena Vacano on Archlute
fortune favours those who strive
in darkness still to see the light
always keeping hope alive
as they journey on the path
though our troubles bring us pain
causing hurt and leaving scars
in time our hearts will heal again
when love is there to make us wise
not in judgement, nor in strife
will we find our perfect dance
with heartstrings tuned we play our song
bringing notes both sweet and strong
that reverberate in harmony to life
all is lovely, all is joy
as we turn and slowly spin
in life’s repeating endless dance
threading out and turning in
spinning dreams and mending all your hearts
The Dreaming Path 