They

in between night and sunrise
in between my right hand and my right
in between my dreaming and my waking
in between lost thoughts
and the next thought I may have
in between the ticking of the clocks
they move between the stairs
between the floorboards
between closed doors and ceiling cracks
between the shadows windows cast
until they become reality at last

Advertisements

How to Capture a Mermaid

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.

When I am Old (revised)

Dedicated to my Mother ~

 

when i am old i wont do anything
but think
and run my life back and forward
in my mind
in translucent back-lit visions

the trek to the kitchen and back
a long journey
re-gaining at last the armchair
i sleep
to dream dreams of the long gone

i will develop a liking for jelly and custard
milk pudding
soup from a can and cheese with jam
cream cakes
and forget what i meant to have for breakfast

the taps will drip, the fire will burn cold
windows rattle
and the mice will move in unafraid
as company
and eat the fabrics to tatters

I will confuse the books i have read
with memories
i will see the ghosts of my family
standing by
and wonder if they wait for me in the night

I wont care about any of this
watching light
watching shadows move across the walls
distant birds
i will ignore all bad news and live in imagination

drifting back to childhood again
so clear
with all my family gathered around
the dead ones
now is just a space between sleeping and waking

 

The Road to Lincoln

 

without sleep beneath the stars,
stumbling through the darklands
we skirted round the adder woods,
out, through silvered parklands

a moonlight, starlight princess
ahead of me, perfection,
my blanket round her shoulders
with only vague directions

we found the moonlit way to town
she walked ahead on silent feet
with many quiet miles to go
my love was real, complete

a moment came with sinking stars
imagination opened, a bright illumination,
all was as it should be, never could be
a short glimpse of liberation

without sleep beneath the stars
love remained unspoken
all was as it would be
the stars sank down, a fading token

the mystic dawn rose gently, new,
a soft mist stretched across the land
her long hair crowned with sparkling dew
we took the road to Lincoln

without sleep and wide awake
the night was over, washed away
back in noise and traffic
the harsh realities of day

i was never really as i seemed
a little lost and moonstruck
i was always wondering,
without sleep beneath the stars

When I am Old

when i am old i wont do anything
but think
and run my life back and forward
in my mind
in translucent back-lit visions

the trek to the kitchen and back
a long journey
re-gaining at last the armchair
i will sleep
to dream dreams of the long gone days

i will develop a liking for jelly and custard
milk pudding
soup from a can and cheese with jam
cream cakes
and forget what i meant to have for breakfast

the taps will drip, the fire will burn cold
windows rattle
and the mice will move in unafraid
as company
to eat all the fabrics to tatters

i will confuse the books i have read
with memories
i will see the ghosts of my family
standing by
wondering if they will lead me away tonight

I wont care about any of this
watching light
watching shadows move across the walls, my clock
distant birds
i will ignore all bad news and live in imagination

drifting back to childhood again
so clear
with all my family gathered near
the dead ones
now will become a space between waking and sleep

Springs Fanfare

when spring returns her dress is yellow

bluebell garlands round her ankles

snowdrops scattered in her hair

where she walks the buds burst forth

daffodils her orchestra

could any maiden be more fair?

the sky is blue, the breeze is gentle

all is fresh and new again

birdsong fills the sweet soft air

life renews in endless cycle

gone the bitter cold and darkness

away, away with winter care

soon the meadow banks will fill

with the flowers of warmer days

i will rest, for dreaming, there

 

Coton Manor Bluebell Wood Northamptonshire

 

pocket_watch_and_snowdrops_flower_stock_by_nexu4-d5znq4t

 

 

Under the Willows

When we were young and dreaming

we hired a boat, floated beneath the bridges

made of worn and ancient stone

we rowed stronger and further than anyone else

to be alone on the tranquil river

 

We pulled in and laid back beneath willows

toes touching, smiling, reading

while the afternoon drifted downstream

dazzling sparks and flashes on ripples

sunlight filtering green through the leaves

 

We never thought to look deeper

into the darker shadows

to the tangle of weeds beneath us

but we rowed against the current

to make our way home in the evening

 

We were young and we were dreaming.

 

Dreaming

I had a dream I didn’t know you,
I’d forgotten all about you,
So it seemed very strange to me
When you took me home
I was startled by what I found.
Stranger still was the way I knew
Where all your things should be,
You had moved some around.
It made no sense to me.

I knew how you felt
And what you thought
And all that we talked about.
Pre-destined, anticipated
As if it had all been scripted
My responses were all defined.
I didn’t know why I spoke.
It all seemed oddly fated and timed
I couldn’t help wondering if we’d met
Or was I so insightful?

I knew I had dreamed it all before
Then woke to find I was dreaming.
Life is lucid dreaming
Where all can be as it seems.
We can make it so.

Dream upon dream
Always dreaming
Always eternal dreams.
How much do we ever choose
The way our lives will go?

The Dreaming Path ~ a poem

Entering this fantasy
Leave not the Grove
That is my home.
However far
You may roam
Walk straight ahead
To find me.
Let no dragon,
though he be fierce,
Bar you from this vision.

Ignore the bridge
That is not mine.
Turn right
Onto a dreaming path
Where woodlands grow
In beauty.
Walk on
Along the river bank.
The way across
Is secret.
Travel
In the midnight hour
To better see
The lighted way.

See the heavens
Crystal shine
Across the dreaming river
Where currents flow
In silence
And sunset glows
Forever.
You have the key
Inside your heart
The waters will not part us.

Tomorrow – a rubaiyat

The stars of the heavens are clear and bright.
I stand here alone, looking up tonight.
The song of the nightingale fills my heart
Ecstatic soloist, brings sweet delight

A softened light shines from the crescent moon,
At dawn it lips the ocean in a swoon.
All night I watched awake, we are apart.
The treasured morning cannot come to soon.

The scent of roses fills the dawning air
As I walk out in peace without a care
Amidst this new-born darling of a day
Where all the fields are newly fresh and fair.

You bring a smile, a word, a tender glance.
Tomorrow’s here and all the world’s a dance.
The sky is blue, the clouds have cleared away
And I am dreaming in a golden trance