Sunday 26 August 2012

WHO IS GOING TO SAVE THE WORLD?


Who is going to save the world?
Not the politician, banker, business-man, thief,
No religious leader, of faith nor any belief,
Only you, me, man, woman, boy & girl.

Who is going to save the world?
From contamination, hate, poverty & war?
No given orders, rules & no written law,
Only you, me, man, woman, boy & girl.

Who is going to save the world?
From global-warming, hunger, pain & fear?
No guns, bombs & no flaming spear,
Only you, me, man, woman, boy & girl.

Who is going to save the world?
It´s all of us & not just the peaceful dove,
Through compassion, faith, trust & love,
Only you, me, man, woman, boy & girl.

THE WHORE:


Sleazy bars & curb-side stops,
Crotch-hemmed skirts & skimpy tops,
Eyes lashed in black & lined in kohl,
Painted toes in stilettoed sole.

Baring everything for all to see,
From top to toe, breast, thigh & knee,
Curb-side crawlers ask, “How much?”
She tells them, “It´s this & that, for such n such”.

Sad of eye & of life, soundly whipped,
Of pimps & johns, swiftly stripped,
Of clothes, dignity & weeping soul,
Praying daily to get out of this hole.

She´s called the slag, slut, slattern & whore,
To her child she is just mummy, no more,
She walks the streets of night-time pain
Pleading with God, “Please Lord, not again”.

Saturday 25 August 2012

REFLECTIONS:


Peeping through her life´s rain-spattered window pane,
She sees her lost childhood there, over & over again,
Tripping through heathered fields, forests & fresh sweet snow,
She wondered wistfully, “where is it all, where did it all go?”

Kneeling upon the mossy banks of the languid lake´s hem,
Spying that young maid of yester-year so young & pretty then,
In watery depths she saw, stolen kisses beneath spring´s lilac tree,
Touching her forgotten lips, pondered, “Whatever happened to me?”

Peering into the unknown pit of her teacup´s murky tea-leafed nest,
She sees the mother she was, with babes upon her womanly breast,
Suckling, nurturing, freely giving, fiercely loving them, one & all,
She sees it & hears the memories dancing off the cold cruel wall.

Staring into the cracked mirror of a long-gone, long- lived life,
She sees it all through closed aching lids, the loves, the joys, the strife,
As she softly saunters through her life´s sequined sunset skies,
She knows not where she´s going, nor what beyond her lies.

Monday 20 August 2012

BOOK OF SHADOWS:


I invite you to amble in, come & have a look,
Come & traipse through the pages of my sacred book,
It is not the Holy Bible, Torah, nor Koran,
All of which are special & the history of every man.

My book is of all women, mother, child & crone,
Old, old tales of flesh, blood & ancient bone,
Secrets of old remedies, tinctures of all herbs,
How to talk to animals & how to fly with birds.

Infusions, salves & balsams, everything for ills,
Potions of love & luck & how to reverse all wills,
How to find a man, or birth that wanted son,
How to use the powers of the stars, moon & mighty sun.

Eye of newt, hair of stoat, the errant crocodile tears,
How to attract wealth & revoke your hidden fears,
Raven´s plume, serpent´s stone & cloven coveted hoof,
Spell to protect your kin & evil-proof your roof.

My book of shadows is not the Kells,
But knows the secrets of ancient wells,
It´s not of evil witch, nor dreaded Satan-feared,
Just of leather-bound wisdom, well-thumbed & old-dog-eared.

Wend your way through sacred pages,
And learn the wisdom of crones & sages,
Feel the power of crystal gems,
Touch the rustling leaves of Druid´s hems.

In my book you´ll find only love,
For creatures from below & above,
Of future, present & of knowledge past,
Linger awhile, don´t leave so fast.

You´ll learn of paw, feather & leaf,
Of forest, cloud & coral reef,
Of stars, planets, tribe & stone,
Of all about your original home.

This is my book of ancient lore,
Where you´ll learn of tomorrow & what went before,
In every page & chime of bell,
You’re blessed with love & all that´s well.

PLUMED CHOIR:


I am wrapped in the reeling rantings of reticent ravens,
Surrounded by the sorry silence of swooping swallows,
The songs of sunny song-birds & the last call of dying swans,
Serenaded on my death-bed, on my way to sacred havens.

I am enveloped by egrets, ernes & powerful eagles of might,
Told the unknown secrets by the whispering warblers,
Daubed by flamingoes pink, blood-red shrike & kingfisher blue,
Caressed by the tern & kissed by the kite on his thermal flight.

I´m humoured by the geese & ducks squeaks & squawks,
Calmed by the thrush & gentle dove softly cooing,
The owl at night & his haunting whooping,
I´m heralded on my way by the haughty hawk.

I´m awaked at dawn by the laugh of the lark,
Musically amused by blackbirds antics,
The splashing at the pool of the little birds bathing,
The nightingale´s voice, solitary in the dark.

 Beaked Angels & plumed prophets upon the wing,
The choir of multi-coloured-feathered tunes,
Adrift upon the heaven´s plumes,
Urge me to fly high & want to sing.

Saturday 18 August 2012

DRAGONS REBIRTH:


Beneath earth, water & within our sky,
In wave, soil, air & flame, they lie,
Awaiting the higher order, the ultimate command,
To awaken on the Gods unquestionable demand.

Dragon of the waters, of rivers, lakes & seas,
With salted breath & lashing tail, you bring us to our knees,
Spitting, snarling, gnashing, Neptune’s faithful hound,
Grey splashing torment, bestowed upon briny sound.

Dragon of the fire, of flaming tongue & eye,
Bloody cindered repast, devouring dead earth dry,
Burning, scorching, skin-stripped life,
Sowing only charred-bone-burnt strife.

Dragon of the heavens, of high eternal sky,
Whipping winds screaming, & asking God, “why”,
His thundered friend & Master Thor,
Knows full well, it´s Nature´s law.

Dragon of this planet, of this wise & ancient earth,
Where men have always fought & women ever birthed,
Ever since the moon was born & the first star ever shone,
Man has asked the question, “Where have all the dragons gone?”

THE GODS LOOK DOWN:


Bloated hungered stomachs burst,
As unquenched lands die of thirst,
In the circle of life; what comes first?
The new-born-babe or the corpse in its hearse?

The Gods look down with knowing eyes,
Jesus frowns & Buddha sadly sighs,
The Gods grimace & Allah cries,
As man auto-destructs, shrivels & dies.

The vulture waits in patient pose,
The wise man nods, because he knows,
The wounded beast lies in sluggish repose,
And the West wind sadly blows.

The sun is angry & spitting with fire,
The bruised sky screeches with pent up ire,
The meek pray & look up at the spire,
While life hangs on suspended wire.

The prophet’s prediction of present & past,
Has come & gone, moved so fast,
The raised fist, high as signaled mast,
The end has come, it is life´s last.

PAGES:


I pitter-patter into the bookshop, where the world I seek awaits me.
Between the woody-scented covers, a feast to read & see,
Pretty poppies, peonies & pansies in hues of sky & seas,
Lupin-blues & scarlet’s, the gold’s & greens of trees.

Recipes of pumpkins, pecan nuts & purple plums,
Fantasies of dragons, tales of saintly nuns,
Of goblins & fairies, pink moons & pea-green suns,
Of Peeping pixies, bows-n-arrows & cowboys wielding guns.

A polyglot of animals & birds of rainbow prismed plume,
Peacocks & pheasants, disappearing in misty spume,
Of waterfalls & windmills & dragons breath of fume,
Of evil minded trolls hiding deep within the gloom.

I turn the page of mysteries, to the one of fairy glens,
Where princesses bathe their silken toes in mossy petaled fens,
To periwinkled puddles where pearls are laid by hens,
And promises made to break, by little wizened men.

I am gallantly wooed by the Prince upon his steed,
Offered by the Druid, mistletoe & apple Meade,
And by the cockled hippie, a drag of his sweet weed,
As I wonder wistfully, where these pages will eventually lead.

I sit beneath the peppercorn & am shaded by the oak,
Passing to Great Sitting-Bull that peace-pipe for a smoke,
Watching passing oxen beneath the Great Trek´s yoke,
Trying not to weep, nor on sentiment to choke.

Of pirates, pyramids, pillared cloisters & rocket´s blast
Of lingering loves & those that go by far too fast,
I, within these pages, can be of future & also of the past,
As I walk out of the bookshop with memories that will last.

Friday 17 August 2012

SWEET DREAMSSS:


Sauntering into sleep I was swept, swirling into the land of scintillating dreams. Along sun-dappled scenery I was serenaded by sweet-voiced starlings. Stepping over the scattered skeins of spiders silk, spun over shaded ancient stones, I came across the silver surf where sea-weeded sirens sang, with haunting satin chants, of Atlantis below our dreams. I stooped & put my still ear to the sleeping silky shell, & heard the soft sussuring of river, sea & well. Crossing to the other side of all waters of the world, I stepped beneath the canopy of softly dripping trees, where the very existence of life could be heard within the leaves. The heaving sighs of mother earth & her seething, sorry tears, echoed within the breeze. The soft-slippered snail´s spittle guided me along a silver path, to where I heeded, etched in wind, the sinful secrets of our past. To a place in ancient time, where I spied the sacred scripts & scrolls, penned by quill of forgotten seer, still un-believed by man. Resounding through the forest walls, voices of the lone, of women all, of suffragettes & surrogates, of every sister, maid & mother. Etched upon my memory, painted in my dreams, the sinful, scarlet seepings, of Salem´s sanguined crones.  Swiftly blown through continents, through aeons of times before, serenaded by the selkies, below leaden skies & moulten shore. I sleep, swooning, sailing upon a moon-beamed, cobbled sea, to a blistered land of scorching sands; could this be serendipity? As I lay my head upon the slumbering duned pillow of dervish-swirling sands, behind my lilac-syringa lids, I feel you slipping through my hands, into the dust of never. The slithering serpent soothes in her sliding, weaving sonnets in sand & I embrace close my senses of silica, as I look up at the siblings of sunbeams & stars, knowing that dawn is close at hand.

Thursday 16 August 2012

WRAP ME:


In my loneliness God, I ask only to be,
Held close to you, so please enfold me,
Wrap me in love, in strong gentle arms,
Swathe me in silk-worms subtle charms.

Wreathe me in smiles of sleepy babes,
Swirl me in frothy ocean´s waves,
Ensconce me in nut-skins & gossamer mists,
Hold me tight in little boys’ fists.

Spin me into spiders’ webs of silk,
Encase me in the udders of nurturing milk,
Hide me within the snails’ patient shell,
Lower me deep into Bridgit’s well.

Cradle me in the secrets of Angels songs,
Dream me in the echoes of Temple gongs,
Nestle me within the feathers of birds in flight,
Keep me safe behind the blind man´s sight.

Furl me in the heart of the velvet rose,
Dream me in Morpheus´s sweet repose,
Cuddle me close to earth´s thudding breast,
Entomb me in eternity for my final rest.

ALCHEMY:


A melting pot of palette´s hues,
Forged upon anvil of the years,
Iron-winter days, beaten in greys & blues,
Spring tears of willow & green envy of the firs,
The guarded secrets of the honey bees,
Transparency of the fragrant breeze,
Winds that howl at the fading moon,
The year passes too fast, too soon,
The golden-bronze of melted leaves,
The passionate dusks & smile of dawns,
The inks of flowing rivers & seas,
The gentle greetings of crisp new morns,
The polyglot of life´s short time,
Passes by in the blink of an eye,
Humanity acting in silent mime,
Before leaving earth, we search the sky.

ALPHABET OF CHILDHOOD DAYS:


Nothing mattered in those heady childhood days,
We danced beneath raindrops & sun´s golden rays.

A- An alchemy of playtime & toys galore,
B- Balls, boats & dolls; who could ask for more?
C- Candy floss & conkers filled long autumn days,
D- Donkey rides & tiddlers caught in sandy bays,
E-Eeyore & elephants taken to sleepy beds,
F-Fairyland existing, not only in our heads,
G-Gee-gees & ponies, of wood & later flesh,
H-Hag´s caverns erected from a chair & any old mesh,
I-Indians & cowboys hide & seek & tag,
J-Jelly-beans, jeweled dress-up gowns & mum´s best handbag,
K-Kisses on birthdays from lavender-smelling Nan,
L-Lilac talc between little toes, scary night-time bogeyman,
M-Milky puddings & Mummy´s tickled giggles,
N-Noses running, & in sweaty hands, little worms that wriggle,
O-Orange lollies, choccies & gummy-bears green,
P-Peppermint sneezes & orders to eat that bean,
Q-Queen Of Hearts, Mad-Hatter & favourite Pooh Bear,
R-Running round, falling down, muddy knees, & lice in hair,
S-Sweet kittens, puppies’ wet noses & fish that got away,
T-Toffees sticky, Tweetie-pie, mixed up with lots of play,
U-Umbrellas with ears & coloured wellie boots,
V-Villains in night-mares & monsters in suits,
W-Whispers from dollies that only I could hear,
X-Xylophones, drums & crackers that burst ears,
Y-Yellow dippy eggs & soldiers of toast,
Z-Zebras & bears, all toys, now ghosts.

The A.B.C. of childhood, written within lost time,
My alphabet of growing, gone now, but special, & all mine.