Category: Black and White Photography


Inspired by an ancient waymarker in a silent churchyard way up on Exmoor; a land that has so many tales to tell, if only it could…..

A solitary waymarker stands tall, marking the boundary of the graveyard; a tick upon the land. No blood, no sign of any struggle, not now.

A girl long ago cruelly hunted down and burned, leaving no trace; just ashes, dust scattered to the winds on that wild and desolate moor, where these days only the wind howls to the moon.

Not for the likes of her sweet and loving soul, the serenity of a consecrated graveyard. Not for the likes of her the dignity of remembrance. Not for the likes of her an epitaph carved lovingly in stone; only the winds and rain to wash away all traces.

All she did was to fall in love, to surrender her heart and soul to the one who loved her back.  All she did was fall in love wildly with a passion of her being way beyond her years. All she did was fall in love with a dark and wild immortal with the wind in his hair and the moon in his eyes. All she did was to allow him to love her back.

All she did was to kiss him on that wet and stormy night in that dark, desolate graveyard way up there upon the moors. It was all she did, one kiss, one passionate and rain-soaked kiss.  It was all she did, she fell in love with the immortal with the wind in his hair.

Some nights when wandering up there on the wild moors, one can almost catch the movement of shadows out of the corner of one’s eyes. One can almost hear the rustling of wet leaves and the sound of damp footsteps running frantically through the graveyard.

One can almost imagine in the darkness, the waymarker with the sturdy gorse bush still growing at its foot after all these years, on an otherwise dry patch of lifeless earth where nothing else will ever grow. And if one was to imagine sinking down upon one’s hands and knees under the waymarker, one can almost see the rivulets of blood running forth onto wet saturated garments in the rain; up there on the moors.

And some nights when the moon is round and the air is dry it is not hard to imaging a lonely cloaked figure under the waymarker scraping away at the parched black earth where nothing lives. One could almost imagine a figure with the wind in his hair, uncovering an old and crumbling piece of wood tossed away in haste by those who feared a vengeful god and who had time and guilt on their hands; a simple weapon that had long ago pierced his lover’s trusting heart.

One could almost imagine
Almost
Whilst up there on the moors….

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Exmore 1

Adueni ‘Keeper of Scrolls’

May 2016

Very happy to be posting my last week of offerings in respect of NaPoWriMo 2017; it has been a pleasure sharing and of course an even greater pleasure reading all the very inspirational poems from my fellow poets. It has been a great event once again 🙂

 

April 24th

Secrets lost in time
Standing steadfast on the shores
Hidden in plain sight

No name on this cross
History and truth erased
Knowledge in silence…

 

April 25th

Tales written in stone
Stories inscribed within trees
Encoded in time

 

April 26th

Dancing in the green of the land

And revelling in the seduction of one’s senses

As the fecundity of being becomes an intimacy

Transcending physical space

Relishing life’s purpose laid bare

Upon the tracing board of time

Knowing our geometry was duly mapped by

A greater architect

Accepting what is

Allowing the weave of design and destiny

To track its eager fingers upon our hearts

Over every contour of its pre-planned route

Let life come as a secret lover upon the stairs

Allow each creak and hesitation

To heighten all senses

Dance in the delight of the becoming

Tread not lightly when the flowing sands of time

Shatter into a myriad of broken shards

Reflecting perceptions of identity

That sparkle in the dawn

Dance in life’s ecstasy with all of your being

And care not when the clock strikes midnight

For in the intimacy of your becoming

You will at last let go

 

April 27th

By the great sun’s wheel

We are mapped from birth to death

Yet what lies beyond?


April 28th

Colour’s spectrum reigns

Under the great rainbow arch

Love and Light are we

 

April 29th

Inspired by a waymarker in a churchyard upon Exmoor; a place that has so many tales to tell…

A solitary waymarker stands tall upon the ground
A tick upon the land.
No blood
No sign of any struggle
Not now.
A body long ago hunted down and burned
Ashes scattered to the winds
On a wild and desolate moor.
Not for the likes of her
The serenity of a consecrated graveyard.
Not for the likes of her
The dignity of remembrance.
Not for the likes of her
A beautiful epitaph carved in stone.
All she did was fall in love.
Surrender her heart and soul
To one who loved her back.
All she did was fall in love.
To love wildly with all her heart.
All she did was fall in love
With the passion of all her being.
All she did was fall in love
With an immortal.
All she did was
Allow him to love her back
And kiss him on that dark and stormy night
In that desolate graveyard
Way up there upon the moors.
All she did was allow the boundaries of her humanity
To stretch henceforth into eternity.
It was all she did
She fell in love…..

Some nights when wandering up there on the moors
One can almost catch the movement of shadows
Out of the corner of one’s eyes.
One can almost imagine in the darkness
The waymarker with the sturdy gorse bush still growing at its foot
On the otherwise patch of dry lifeless earth
Where nothing else will grow.
And if one was to imagine
Sinking down upon one’s hands and knees
Under the waymarker
Up there on the moors.
And imaging scraping away at the parched black earth where nothing lives.
One could almost imagine
Almost
Uncovering an old and crumbling piece of wood
Tossed away in haste
A trusting heart pierced.
One could almost imagine
Almost
Whilst up there on the moors….

 

April 30th

Limelight’s tricks and twists

A demon in jester’s robes

Life takes a dark bow…

 

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NapPoWriMo 2017

“The Keeper of Scrolls”

We are  into the second week now; this is where the inspiration often changes, going deeper as the mind and imagination opens up to endless possibilities…..

 

April 8th

We waited alone

Never daring to look back

As the seas raged on

 

Old words wrought in blood

Secrets whispered to the winds

Only now hit home…

 

In dark magic bound

Sigils of fire made traces

Scored upon the sands

 

Those who rape my land

I will curse them til I die

And the seas rage high…

 

April 9th

I should never have let you kiss me

Yet kiss me you did

I should have never have let you touch me

But touch me you did

I should never have let you whisper my name

In that voice so silky soft and tender

I should have turned away when you offered me the world

Yet I stayed to listen

I should have brushed off your embrace

Your kisses and caresses

All of these things and more

I should have walked away from

Yet I stayed

And embraced the pureness of your innocent heart

 

But honey, in one swift and fleeting moment

It was my darkness

My gift

That gave you death….

 

April 10th

That moment of stark realisation when you look in the mirror

And do not recognise the person starring back at you.

Where did the ‘you’ that you always thought you were go to?

Where did the years go?

That ‘blink of an eye’ now feels more like a ‘shudder in hell’

This person staring back through the mirror is a total stranger.

When did we become this person?

When did this transformation happen?

How do we start to be this person we don’t actually know;

This lined and aged faced person?

How do we adapt to an old strange face, a lumpy, droopy body

When the essence within is forever young and yearning to fly free?

Is still living in hope that tomorrow will come

And everything will change.

We stand upon the shores of time within our illusion

As time simply marches on by

Right under our very feet.

Time never gives a dam,

It leaves us reeling in its relentless wake

Churning up all who stand in its way.

We can’t go back and change things

Though often we badly wish to do so

But instead we keep all those never lived dreams

Tucked well away inside

Where we can no longer find them,

Hidden away with the hope that our day will come

Til we perchance to look once more into that deadly mirror of truth

To realise that our day actually came and went…

 

April 11th

Chemtrail traces spun

Across the skies; back and forth

Big spidery lies

 

April 12th

Fleeting words today
Someone stuck a knife in me
Or it feels like it!

 

April 13th

When night time falls it is always your face I see among the stars
And I am transported back to the days of innocence and youth.
When everything I believed in held no doubts,
Before time changed and the world moved on.
It was your face upon the pale lace pillow then I saw,
Softly sleeping with dreams yet untold,
Your very breath; your very existence filled my dreams.
Time stretched on and on and the days were endless
Filled with love and unending desire
And the bravado of youth;
The becoming into the true dreamtime of our lives.
Cups were duly filled and overflowing
With all that we ever felt possible.
You got me
And saved me
And yet I you.
Lying on our backs on the warm sand
We watched the stars
And would share the tales of the gods and all their mighty power;
Their nightly battles among the stars.
Planets shattering in the morning light
As dreams would too
One day.
Yet youth lies and tells us for ever really is forever.
Youth knows nothing of time
Of fading dreams
And lost hope.
Youth traces the pattern of vibrancy and desire upon our skins.
Youth slips into our minds and transports us to a world
Of endless possibilities
Carrying us away upon a transient tide of our own making.
Deftly the thin fingers of time trace their dark intricacies across our bodies,
Cutting furrows and scars both seen and unseen.
Time both takes and gives
And cares not which.
What was once endless
Has now ended.
What was once passion
Is now quiet contemplation.
What was once desire
Is now only a searched for memory,
An imprint in the sands of time
Where once our bodies lay.
And when night time falls it is always your face I see among the stars
And I am transported once more back to those days of our innocence and youth.

 

April 14th

Poison rain drips down

Is this really our future?

That future is here

 

TC 1

NaPoWriMo

April 2017

“The Keeper of Scrolls”

So here we are dear friends, once again we have the enjoyable challenge of NaPoWriMo with us for the whole of April 2017. Time to burn the midnight oil in readiness for each days new offerings and time especiall y for sharing and embracing each others poetry 🙂

April 1st

When first time nerves hit

Remember time will grasp them

To forge memories

 

April 2nd

Suspended in time

Lives mapped out in illusion

Lab rats for the gods

 

April 3rd

Emotions spoken

Within a time frame of words

On the virgin white

 

April 4th

When night-time falls and moonlight hides behind the twisted steeple.

When shadows awaken from the cursed daylight

And the void between the worlds is alive once more.

Then my love I shall come to you and dance upon your grave.

I shall beat a thousand footfalls upon the dark damp earth

Wherein you lay

Until each beat vibrates upon your soul.

I shall take my knife of steel, so sharp and sure

And slice swift across my wrist of lily-white

To paint the red thread of the living

Upon your long dead soul.

When the ruby red flows

I shall dance the dance of a thousand warriors.

I shall chant the words from a thousand scrolls.

I shall blend my blood within the earth

To free you.

Unbound by mortal ties

And worldly gotten gains

Our blood and bones combined;

Our uri ma esentu as one.

In the distant blood-red dawn

A herald of seven trumpets;

A revelry for love rekindled.

A blood oath taken

In the time of mortals

Now conjures the living and the dead as one.

Sweet rebirth

As surely as the night is day

And the dark is light

My blood flows ruby red upon the earth

On which I dance…

 

April 5th

Come springtime and hope

The waft of fragrant blossoms

Blossom does not last

 

Come summer and love

Seduction and clear blue skies

Love is like blossom

 

Come autumn decay

Fire scented air and dawn mists

Mists hide truth and lies

 

Come winter and sleep

Dreams cold beauty takes a bow

Love frozen within

 

April 6th

Old bones cannot speak

Dead men tell no tales

Live and let live

Leave the past alone

We said it all…

Yet with a wave of my hand

And a subtle click of my fingers

It will all come rushing back

My guiltless gift to you

Roles reversed through time…

 

April 7th

Dressed in winters memory

And crisply frozen words

That defy the ragged edges of time

The Lady watches silently

Her icy talons poised

For all the world to see

Hidden in her crystal cave

She does not slumber

Yet scrawls our fate

Upon the frozen land

In intricate patterns

Of lacy frost

She will allow us for one fleeting second

The illusion of the sun

And the cold secret of the moon

As she binds the silvery stars

To midnights eternal shroud

 

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I watched the people through the glass
Their lives a mirrored reflection of each others
Pale
I stood apart
I cast no reflection
And was glad

 

Cambridge

March 2017

‘The Keeper of Scrolls’

tt

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