Tag Archive: 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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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”

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’

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Endlessly i fall

Caught in a chasm of wonder

Spiraling onwards

treasure

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….

for-poem

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)

Reflections….

 

It wasn’t the shadows in the woods that haunted me most

It was the ones in your eyes

It wasn’t the wind screeching through the bare boughs that bought me deathly chills

It was your terrified scream

It wasn’t the track through the forest frantically leading nowhere

It was your footsteps running… running…

It wasn’t the lake still and beautiful on that moonless night

It was your body; still beautiful in the water

It wasn’t the single red bloom that fluttered silently out of nowhere to rest upon your breast

It was the single drop of red blood

It wasn’t my hands loving and tender

It was the white of my knuckles grasping the bloodied knife…

 

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November 2016

Photography – me

Keeper of Scrolls

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