The moon in his eyes……

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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Adueni ‘Keeper of Scrolls’

May 2016

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Zodiac: an interpretation of Haiku

Also from February’s Allographic Workshop

Seasonal Hauki with the chosen word of ‘Zodiac’

The dark winter skies

Clothe the Earth in icy cold

Zodiac sleeping

Then springtime flies in

Sweet scents and verdant new growth

Zodiac waking

Summer heat, too hot

Desert dry upon the skin

Zodiac listless

At last Autumn comes

All is calm within the skies

Zodiac rebirths

zodiac

Allographic Workshop

February 2017

“The Keeper of Scrolls”

Ego Derived…..

From the Allographic workshop in Cambridge these words resonated in my mind from the word ‘Ego’:

Power… Fear… Uptight… Chains… Boundaries… Delusion… Lies… Humanity… Crushed… Fruitless… Commanding… Deadly… Visionless..

And from those words a poem birthed

Hidden within humanity

Are the boundaries of delusion.

Held strong by misplaced power

Fed by fruitless fear and lies.

In a visionless future world

Hides the deadly chains,

The lock and key lost in time.

Yet time itself already crushed

Within its own delusion of lies.

A fruitless circle of becoming

As the Serpent is fed

ouraborous

February 2017 Allographic Workshop: Cambridge

‘The Keeper of Scrolls’

SLUMBERING KNIGHTS

Slumbering Knights from days of old
Mythical Beasts; stories untold
Fact and fiction are bound as one
Truth is hidden by the earthly sun
Dare to see what’s before your eyes
Look to the heavens and beyond the skies
Rhyme and reason is no more
Illusion is bound on these earthly shores
Hear the story; read the rhymes
Take a leap right out of time
The truth is where it’s always been
Yet hidden deep within your dream
With the slumbering Knight
On the shores of time
With the mythical beast
No more seen…

 

January 2017

‘The Keeper of Scrolls’

Truth is a darkness; suspended in a time that does not exsist…..

Endlessly i fall caught in a chasm of wonder. Spralling onwards

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The bones of my being find shelter & solace ‘neath the comforting shadow of my soul

Digital Camera

Sounds of tinkling pipes woven by the winds own charm weave around my soul

Digital Camera

Silently i tread the years of earthly time; my one companion, my warrior soul…

Digital Camera

With breastplate and sword I stand steadfast and mighty. In silence i rule

Digital Camera

Beauty always lingers and lives on in the hearts & minds of men, time cease to be & all there is is the truth….

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My name is silence only whispered by the wind when the sky is dark

Digital Camera

Suspended timelessly in a space of my own creation; i weave reality with the electrons of my mind…..

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All secrets revealed, all knowledge known. At the end of days i shall become into being and She will rise within

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And so it goes on bood spilled, innocents ravaged man’s death on the cards….

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The time is now here for man to be accounted. Too late for good deeds…

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Save your soul, lest you weep and pray for no more tears. Tis over, all done…

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Beach huts hibernate dreaming of hot days and sand. Returning cycles

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Beauty always lingers and lives on in the hearts & minds of men, time ceases to be & all there is is the truth. The land will endure over centuries of upheavel, always renewing itself at perfect points giving humanity life once more

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Words from the ‘Keeper of Scrolls’  ‘Truth is is darkness suspended ina time that does not exsist’

January 2017 (All photos and words are original and belong to the author)

The Visit… a seasonal poem

That time around midnight

When the air hangs as cold and as still as death itself.

When the earth sleeps

And only the creatures of the night are out foraging for food.

That was the time

When I saw her.

I had popped out to empty the rubbish.

I had my eyes half screwed up and was hunched because of the cold.

I didn’t notice anyone there at first.

The shadows;

They always seem to come alive at that time of night.

Yet I caught a faint flicker,

A kind of glimmer in the darkness.

Assuming it was light escaping from my half open kitchen door,

I made my way around the side of the house to the bin.

As I came back to the garden I heard a faint sound,

A beating of wings,

Then silence.

Something, I don’t know, made me look up and walk towards the pond.

It was then,

Then I saw her.

She was sitting on the rockery beside the overgrown heather,

Unaware I was watching,

Staring, utterly enthralled at the snowdrops.

I think she had never seen anything so beautiful,

But then neither had I watching her.

I could hardly dare to breathe lest my breath should give my game away.

Her delicate silvery hand stretched out to tenderly pluck a bloom.

I was unsure whether to move forward or back or just stay there.

Then in that instant,

In that very instant she saw me.

A moment transfixed in time

Lasting an eternity;

Yet in reality a split of a second.

Her eyes pierced mine

And I felt her soul and mine beat as one.

Recognition.

And in that very moment I knew I would never ever see her again.

It was as if she realised then, that she shouldn’t have been here.

Shouldn’t have been seen.

She gave me one last haunting glance

And with a gentle beat of her translucent wings silently faded into another realm.

 

The air was colder

And stiller than ever before.

A dark void was all that was left.

I walked over to the pond,

There on the ground were the snowdrops,

Strewn as she had left them

In her haste to depart.

I bent over and gently picked them up,

Caressing them against my cheek as I walked back to the house.

 

A lone tear dropped on to the perfect white petals.

I shut the door as I went inside,

Suddenly shivering.

 

Then started looking for a tiny vase.

 

fairy

 

Written 17th February 2003

‘The Keeper of Scrolls’

Love and Light

But there is always another side to everything…..

 

I heard the wind whispering.

I felt the cool breeze in my hair.

I saw the Star and followed.

I heard the eternal voice of the one who loves me.

If I leave no trace upon this land

I know her sweet laughter will forever guide me home

To the place where I belong.

The winter’s chill and the long dark nights are no more.

The forgotten shadows fade

And the Light within reveals the true beauty of Life.

I shall fear not the unknowing

I shall fear not life

I embrace all;

My cherished journey.

The Light beckons me on this night

And I am led towards G.O.D. by her loving hand.

 

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  Written Yule 2010

“The Keeper of Scrolls”

Dec 2016

 

 

 

On a Friday eve…

A Friday night eve

An abandoned airfield

Silence and stillness

Mysterious lights

Hovered

Followed

Lost souls

Coincidental figures

Speak of the way

Guides

Listen

Hedges and fences

Living quarters

Crumbling

Darkness

Hot and cold

A figure

Running

Spirits roam

Lost airmans souls

Seeking home

Truth

Corridoors

Dark doorways

Graffitied walls

Stairway shadows

Shiver

Memories of the past

Entwined in the present

Never forgotton

Psychic graffiti

Death

Whispering steps

Never alone

Senses alive

A kerbside encounter

Spirit tracks

Eternity lingers into darkness

Lost souls

Unbound

Through the veil

We will see

All that we are meant to see….

Through the veil

We will see

That of which is meant to be….

Through the veil

We will see

Into the deep, dark sea eternally….

 

airfield-5-2

Oct 2016

ONCE UPON A MIDNIGHT DREARY

(A Gothic inspired poem in the style of Poe’s ‘The Raven’)

Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered weak and weary,

Upon a lost love gone for years; upon a life lost too;

I search in vain for evermore.

Why so young an Angel taken?

Why so young a life forsaken?

Suddenly snatched from mortal realm

With ne’er a chance to say goodbye

With ne’er a chance to wipe my tear

That fell upon my cheek so soft

And so I pondered long and lonely, feeling weary seeking solace

To quest his long lost resting place; I quest for evermore.

A place I knew ere in my dreams,

For never in my waking hours his sad tomb could I see.

That churchyard old and dark I saw;

In daytime nothing stirred at all.

Why in my dreams and not on earth

I pleaded every night whilst there.

In dreams of night his name I call

Through deaths dark door he whispers mine.

I wander long, alone and teary, vainly searching, vainly seeking

For that which I am so unsure;

I search for evermore.

A tomb maybe, a gravestone marked; a spot upon some barren ground?

In death and dreams he calls me home

My name he calls upon the winds;

In waking hours my torment thrives, fed on my wretched life.

My dreams are that which take my soul

To black tormented realms of pleasure.

Oh death, oh lover why taunt me so?

I beg you leave my dreams alone

Yet take me home with thee.

For in this world I cannot live

Yet can not die in yours.

Sweet freedom free me from this curse

Of searching lost and lonely

For a love lost in the realms of men.

In my dreams his tomb I find

In churchyard dark and dank and dreary.

And so upon a midnight weary I wander in that graveyard dreary

In deaths dark realm for evermore…..

 

for-poem

Poem and Photo Adueni 2016

The Untrodden Path…

Sometimes following ones inner instinct may seem out of kilter with the rest of ones peers, yet maybe not, especially if one has never had a need to ‘fit in’.

Some of us have always lurked happily on the edges of society; we are the world’s shadow dwellers, the keepers of wisdom and the timeless watchers.

Instinct takes us down the well known untrodden path and we know how to leave no trace.

We are the whispers of the wind, walking silently through your world, observing all yet saying little.

Instinct and inner spirit always takes us to where we need to be; always to that right time, that right place without really thinking about it anymore; fate and destiny entwined, moving both back in time yet forwards simultaneously, for time has no meaning, no purpose in a world of illusion.

Think not of the ways of man, think not of the mundane, for all will vanish upon the winds of fate, when the hour of destiny is nigh and the truth is finally revealed for all it is.

Listen to your heart beat, listen to your instinct when it takes you in the opposite direction to others, for it is there you will find the truths; the truths that have always been here; though never seen in the clamour to always be heard.

In the silence, once you find it, you will see what you are meant to see and know what you are meant to finally know.

The road is bumpy and untrodden in current times; but listen to your heart lest you miss that final beat……

 

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September 2016