A Girl in a Yellow Field

the girl in the park squats down
her head almost down to the ground
she is taking close up photographs
of crocus spread out in the sun

i take a more distant view
i see a girl
in a field of yellow
that shines
i know her obsession well
she is oblivious to all that’s around her
focused on one yard of earth

i used to carry a camera
to capture that special light
it’s a study in glory
wherever it’s spotlight falls
now i carry a notebook
i enter the girl on my page
– another small study from life

the lovers sit on a wall nearby
wrapped in each others arms
lost in each others eyes and dreams
they notice nothing at all

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Spark

The crocus on the frosted green
for six short decades I have seen.
I’ve gathered treasures to my store.
There will not be so many more.
My troubles are not any less,
I still have reason for distress,
and yet I feel my spirits rise.
This sudden light, a sweet surprise,
As spring reveals a summer sky.
Hope returns and does not die.
It’s raining now again today
but I remember yesterday.

I feel the spark of life within.
It trumpets loud – begin, begin!

The Door

the door that stands behind her slowly opens
i kick it shut
time after time
each time i look it’s open again
this mysterious haunting door
nothing is visible, nothing profound
i see her longing,
longing for sleep,
i see fear,
a lost look in her eyes,
as i hold her still, warm hand

there are tears in my eyes
i won’t let them flow for her now

the door swings ever wider
and lets in a soft evening light

it’s gentle, that light,
i see that

At the Last

There are dark days ahead for us all.
Storm clouds hang close above.
I see how the stars, revealing the map,
have slowly extinguish your eyes.
The future seems something to dread
when your planets never align.

Come sit here a while, and rest.

The road has been long and you’re tired
and you lost many friends on the path.
You’re the last of the fruit of your family tree.
Yes. Finally. Yes. The last.
Every day it’s the same
empty house, old dreams, gathering dust,
you don’t trust anymore in the point of this game.
It would be so damned easy to quit.

Come sit here a while, and rest.

Look into the flames of this fire,
this fire that burns so bright,
red embers that glow in the night.
There are voices hovering near.
Loved ones are never lost.
They are one sidelong step out of sight.

Come sit by me here, in the light.

Facing the Witch

Sharp-tongued, bad-tempered,
Baleful with knowledge,
Ambitious witch,
A fervent desire burns in her eyes.
With charms written backwards,
She gives us long tasks.

We perform.
It’s her will.

We sit at the cauldron stirring dark liquids
As moons chase sun after sun from the hills.

The cauldron is split.
She screams in her fury.
Vicious elixir spills out on the land
Poisoning horses,
Parching the lake.
All of her wishes taken from her.

Disappointed, tyrannical mother,
Who spurs on her children, as if to their ruin,
Giving, by this, the magical spark
The three precious drops
Bright knowledge and wisdom
Three drops to shine in the pitiless dark.

For this she will chase you.
Chase you through dreams.
There is no escape.

Turning to meet her, tired of the race,
Looking the dark hag straight in the face
My eyes newly opened
I see there another
A goddess
A mother
Spinning a wheel and harvesting grace.

Beneath her dark robes is a glimmering brightness,
A fire that transforms, ignites and inspires.
Her curse marks the path to all of her blessings
And opens the way to visions of light
At the heart of this beautiful chalice of night.

“Late Lament”, By The Moody Blues

Breathe deep the gathering gloom,
Watch lights fade from every room.
Bedsitter people look back and lament,
Another day’s useless energy spent.
Impassioned lovers wrestle as one,
Lonely man cries for love and has none.
New mother picks up and suckles her son,
Senior citizens wish they were young.
Cold hearted orb that rules the night,
Removes the colours from our sight.
Red is grey and yellow white.
But we decide which is right.
And which is an illusion?

Morning Ritual (a sonnet)

Each day the morning ritual’s the same,
I wake to hear the traffic in the street.
My mother, from her bedroom, calls my name.
I wish that I could stay in longer sleep.
Preparing breakfast, brewing morning tea,
I throw the heavy window open wide
Breathing in cold air, throwing bread and seed
to waiting birds that gather there outside.
But now my lingering dreams all fly away
A Raven came, down swooping from the sky!
His presence here a blessing on the day
My heart awakes and lifts my spirit high.

Mythic bird, bringing darkness from the night
On wings outspread and lifting up in light.

5.15am

The voice, a breath on a breeze,
stellar, shining, white feather floating,
scattered stardust, soft twinkle,
a warm whisper close to my ear

”Yes, the light was the beginning,
the beginning of the myth,
the myth that brought us all here,
the myth that we had to be.”

”Then the stars gathered round
humming and singing,
singing celestial sound.
The world started spinning,
spinning the loom of itself.”

”No one said, LET THERE BE LIGHT!
Light was, light is.
There is light and darkness,
it’s shadow.”

”But in the great-long-forever-timeless-nothingness
it was suddenly 5.15am!”

When I asked for the theatre prompt sheet
for the book of love and imagination,
(I already had the script),
she projected this onto a board,
along with a dim, faded photograph
of the Mad Hatter leaning against a screen,
nonchalant, in a space
beside a gap in a tattered curtain.
He had stood still there a long time
a very long time ago.

A crowd of children passed by,
wandering home from school,
pushing, shoving, chattering,
telling how they knocked all the apples down
from the garden wall,
but that wasn’t it at all.
They’d forgotten paradise.

Caramel (a found poem)

‘I am melted’ she said,
sighing to music

like ice-cream?
like cheese?
like chocolate?
I asked her, concerned

”I think like hot fudge syrup,
yes like that”
thoughtfully she replied,
looking in my eyes,
dripping caramel

I’m so glad it’s not like a candle!
I would hate her to burn away and go out
leaving me with no light
especially on a such a magical night
as this

***************

the ‘melt’ music ~ The Way You Look Tonight by Dolls Combers