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

 

 

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Behind the Bells

what is the back-end coding?
who sits at the screens and creates?

all is one plus one
minus the final sum

was there an original One
who caused that sudden explosion?

assuming that happened at all
all i see

in front of me
is a winding prodigious scroll

how the mighty ones roar
gnashing their bloodied teeth

far away in the distance
the apocalyptical choir

is humming a deep throated chord
that only a fool can make clear

life arising from ice
cast in original fire

such architecture
stalagtites strung on a breeze

scattered sounds on a wind
that swing in fragile strung chimes

strike a note
for whom the bell tolls

might be me
it’s a joke, it’s delicious, it’s fundamentally pure

oblivious wonderment
reflects in a windowless eye

Here, On the Shore

there is nothing to lose here
and nothing to win
out here by the ocean
cast up on the shore

grains of salt
in damp sand
fragments of shell
bubbles keep rising
to break in the air

nothing more
nothing more
nothing more
nothing more

briefly cupped in a hand
the water of life
soaks back to sand

we go and we go
and we go and we go
we go, we go
we go into the flow

spiral and helix constantly spin
it’s part of a vision
too vast to explore
I’ve seen this before
and before and before

To Lizzie (when we were eight)

I remember you little girl,
I remember you so well,
(still with a smile in my eyes)
and our home in the hidden hedgerow
and your pink tray with painted roses
you’d dragged from a tangled ditch
and scrubbed clean as a whistle
to serve me tea, one day, long ago,
when i returned from my wandering hunt
in the unfenced, treasure filled hills.

I remember your bouncing braids
as you ran and skipped on ahead,
to the shade of the bluebell woods.
I remember your chapped lips,
dry, from long summers suns;
the lips that i kissed so chastely
and thought it a daring deed
that I waited for days to repeat,
knowing you wanted me
to practice more kisses in play.

my princess of summer meadows,
my princess of virginal snows,
my princess of warm rains and ice,
my princess of the beckoning
who thought she was only a girl

we knew how to savour life
we knew how to live for one day,
and never for yesterday.
we only wished our tomorrow
to be the same as today,
in the simple trust that it would.
now, i remember you, little girl,
i wish that it always was

My Prayers

i wish i could wipe away all the tears
wherever they may come from

life is so often unjust
or do i not understand?

is some god only playing with us?
or are we so deficient in learning?

my prayers, so rare,
are always answered

but not in the way i expect
and not in the way i would want

my prayers are far too powerful
in the hands of a mortal like me

an unwitting player of chess
I can’t see ahead far enough

whatever is given to me
has been taken away from another

it’s worse when it’s someone i love
why must fate be so cruel?

the lessons so seldom are plain
i may never pray again

not until I’m on my death bed
with submissive thanks

what’s the purpose of prayer
when i can’t recognise the answer

The Princess & the Snail

Long ago in Timbramil
There lived a princess fair
Upon a lofty hill she dwelt
A crown adorned her hair

Her name was Princess Tourmaline
She rarely ventured out
So little had she seen of life
She never went about

One day her fathers Squire came by
He persuaded her to go
And look about the world a bit
Her agreement was quite slow

But at last she ventured forth
Through the garden gate
She saw the flowers and fountains there
And lingered til quite late

Her little feet were growing tired
so unused to walk
so she rested with the Squire
to have a little talk

Ah! then the princess saw a snail
Beneath the scented trees
Her face became quite pale indeed
She fell upon her knees

‘What is that?’ she asked the Squire
‘that spirals round such flesh.
Do the people eat these things
And do they eat them fresh?”

The snail looked up in total shock
”Surely you aren’t FRENCH!?” he said
Curling tight within his shell
and fearing he’d be dead

”Oh, he spoke!” the Princess cried
The Squire looked away, unsure what to say
The Princess took the Snail straight home
And kissed him every day

The moral of this story is
‘A chance remark and innocence
Can make us fall for anyone
And lovers have no sense.’

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

 

 

Acceptance

what peace there is
by the fire in the evening
as we sit in a circle together
what joy there is in simple things

late into the night
the firelight glows
i feel my heart expanding
in the blessing music brings

the stars shine high above us
and in all the eyes
i see all around me
that same light shines

after all, most of all
when all is said and done
the stars will all still be there forever
and life is the song that we all share