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.
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,
Something, I don’t know, made me look up and walk towards the pond.
It was then,
Ten 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.
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,
Then started looking for a tiny vase.
Written 17th February 2003
‘The Keeper of Scrolls’
In a world gone mad
Only the truth remains
In a world gone mad
Only truth is a constant
In a world of turning tides
Only the truth will save
In a world on a cusp
Let truth be a guide
In a world of illusion
Dont blink – just see
In a world of falsehood
Take not the lies for granted
In a world of lies
Truth is the freedom
See through the veil
Ignore the false trails,
The false flags,
The false justices and the false politicians
See the enemy within
Do not be fooled
By those who wish you well
Life is not as portrayed
And never has been
Wake up and smell the roses
For they fade in a blink of an eye
Into the mirror of the great illusion
Where reigns the truth
In a world gone mad
See what is
See the truth as it is
Look beyond the horizons
Of limited reach
For in the end
The truth is the key
Is the reality to all that ever was
Or is, or yet to be…..
Upon the crossroads; sparkling bright with pale moonlight time stands still
And the past is just a memory fading from view.
The witches of old tis said, merry met with the very devil himself,
Before he journeyed out in his chariot over the moon-bright fields.
The hounds of hell with red eyes shinning crossed over to the Otherworld here
And the longest day just goes on and on and on and the very sun itself is caught in a bright web of liminal space.
It is here sweet love I wait for thee, underneath the Ladies summer perfumed tree.
It is here at midnight I wait as the moon casts a shard of light to pierce my soul.
It is here I will wait and cast my spell in words of ancient tongue.
Here where only the convergence of the tides of time can enchant you to fall under my spell.
I hold my dagger to my heart, my hands steady, words flowing in this ancient tongue I know so well.
My sweet life force I offer thee as a token,
Will you accept?
Sweet force of power that you are, will you come?
Will you meet me upon this midsummer night?
In the distance two dancing hares, two moonlight sprites in the ripening fields.
The energies of the night are entering this realm, slipping through the veil of reality,
I see them, but will you come also?
My blood slowly drips upon the ground as I chant my words.
I light a single candle and offer my precious ruby gift to the flame, gently anointing my forehead.
I become the very gift you need but still will you come?
Will you require more?
What will it take on this midsummer night?
Oh sweet moon of mine, shineth down not upon my soul lest you see me laid bare
Revealed in moonlight upon the shores of time for whom and what I truly am;
I crave my kin.
Come through the veil sweet love; sweet immortal darkling.
Cast your dark shadow upon my heart;
Leave me not abandoned and alone.
Still my blood drips upon the earth as the crossroads merge into my very being.
As the land becomes the sky
And time stands still
And the still is all.
As the past and future entwine together
I am a part of it as are you
And finally my eyes are clear.
My love I yearn to kiss thine lips upon the delicate rim of midnight
I die a thousand deaths yet live a thousand lifetimes waiting.
Yet you come not
I en-cradle the sweet dark flame of eternity that is forever you
To return next year
A selection of the month’s creative and earnest writings, making a connection to all the wonderful poets whom i share my creativity with…
So thus shall i depart
From the challenge poetic
Dear friends and true
Let me bid you adieu
I remember intricate ice patterns on the freezing cold window panes
I remember cold breath that froze instantly in the air in the bedroom
And slipping bravely between icy cold sheets that took my breath away
I remember laying in bed so ill for two weeks and writing my first poem
I remember feeling different and not wanting to be one of the crowd
And of escaping into my own world where books and art were all I needed
I remember always loving animals and the natural world
I remember long days spent exploring fen droves and rolling in haystacks
And fishing for stickle backs in steep banked ditches that no longer exist
I remember my pale blue bike and how we travelled around the fen lanes together
I remember the day of the gigantic white water spout over Ely
And how we all stopped and stared in amazement not knowing what it was
I remember rummaging for hours on end in the stationary and book shop
I remember the magic on every shelf as I discovered each treasure that revealed itself before me
And in the magic of my wonder I was suspended, floating in a spell of timelessness
I remember the harsh control at home; of being shouted at; just too scared to breath
I remember a sterile, aggressive environment and of just wanting to be me; to be seen
I remember vowing forever to break this curse for ever…
A drop of pure love
Is all it takes to blossom
Yet true love blooms rare
Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,
Upon a lost love gone for years; upon a life lost too
Why so young was angel taken?
Why so young was life forsaken?
Suddenly snatched from mortal realm
With ne’re a chance to say goodbye
With ne’re 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
A place I knew ere in my dreams
For never in my waking hours his tomb would come to me
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
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 upon my wretched life
My dreams are that which take my soul
To pleasures black tormented realm
Oh death, oh lover why taunt me so?
I beg you leave my dreams
Yet take me home to be with thee
For in this world I can not 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 dreary
And so upon a midnight weary I wander in that graveyard dreary
In deaths dark realm for evermore…
inspired again by The Raven
Some days words don’t come
Some days words beget darkness
Some days words just kill
Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,
Listening to an old scratched record playing tunes of old for me
Rock and Roll will never die; will live inside my soul; my soul for evermore
The heartbeat of my life and times; the music score of life
Every action a tune within; every thought a beat
Every dream a soundtrack written, a melody of life
Time and tide will march to music; all life’s a tune for evermore and more
My backing track of daily actions, my score of hopes and dreams
And so I ponder on the music; sweet harmonies that shape my life
Midnight weary, not midnight dreary as I crank it up once more
People come and people go, a very fact of life
But tunes endure and shape our world; I know that fact for sure
That old scratched vinyl forever playing will leave me nevermore
Thanks to EAP and his wonderful Raven
Words from a past life
Enter my deamtime to mock
Silent tears at dawn
Inspiration arrives upon the dark wings of night
Stretching forth into endless blackness
Where only the soul survives
Yet upon these dark wings of night
Dawn’s bright hour comes upon a stillness
A stillness of soul that can only be answered by the heart
It is of a rustling of leaves upon a still summer’s day
The tinkling of water in an ancient hidden meadow
It is the call of the wild within us all
The stag, the deer, the fox
Yet it is of a falling backwards into dreams
Back to the Old Ones
Who knew how to fly
Those who have taught you
Yet you knew it not
Dark and as dangerous as falling
Eyes wide shut from the cliff edge
It is of a spreading of wings
Of a inner knowing that you can fly
It is of faith, of hope, of trust
Hold the darkness by the silken thread of life
Grasp the soft black velvet of night
And fall into sweet unsuffocating slumbers
Where dream become reality
And futures are forged in the fires of returning souls
Be the star
And the sun
And the moon
Be all and more
Sink then into the dark night of the soul
Become the night wings of inspiration
And know it to be your time
Into week two of this years challenge and finding this a very enjoyable experience; i am in some cases now following the promts as given on the NaPoWriMo website; but if not following as such then finding inspiration in them. There are lots of other wonderfull poetry to be found on the website below, along with numerous poetry writing tips and prompts:
It lay in my bloodied hand
The rose cut fresh
Velvet red and sensual
Deep scarlet blooms
Hiding the thorns
Blooms where yesterday
Tightly wrapped buds
Sought the sun
And tomorrow petals
Upon sacred ground
I remembered the kiss
I remember his perfume
I brush my face
With the scarlet
Hidden thorns strike
Brushing my lips
Memories bloom in shadow
Curses never leave
Unlike the crumpled rose
I stole just one kiss
A dark kiss not mine to steal
Dam it was so good
Running and running yet somehow not getting anywhere
I may be dreaming I thought; this is not real
How can it be and how did I get here?
And the ‘English Place Name’s I encountered
As I ran by seemed just so surreal; unreal
I was on a quest; that much I knew
Seeking ‘The Keys of Enoch’
But only ‘The Goddess of The Labyrinth’ could help me find them
Where was she?
So in I tumbled head-long into the labyrinth
In a rather Alice-like fashion
Yet not a white rabbit in sight
Just old tales, old myths that wove in and out of my mind
On a repeat loop within my head
Chivalry and Knights, of deeds fought and won
Of mystery and magic
Jousting for the hand of a mythical princess
‘The Legends of King Arthur and his Knights’
Spiralled in and out of my brain as I sought the centre
‘The Hero Myths and Legends of the British Isles’ were birthed at The centre of this labyrinth or so the story goes
But how would I get there to find that elusive key?
Or would it simply take ‘The Thousand and One Night’
That I was told it would
But suddenly I was whisked off my feet Dorothy-fashion
By a spiraling storm that plucked me from the centre of the Labyrinth just as I reached it
I held on in the storm as dark winds roared around me
And rain beat down upon my head
And then it stopped, ceased, silence
And I found myself in front of the fallen angel
In ‘Rosslyn and The Western Mystery Tradition’
Home again where I belonged
With heart and soul combined as one
Golden childhood days innocently spent on timeless Norfolk beaches
Sun shining twenty four seven or so it seemed looking back
The long endless summer days where dreams and adventures came to life
And everyday normal life came to a standstill
Summer by the sea yet only two weeks out of real time
But two weeks when time and tide ceased to exist
Bright coloured buckets and spades were all we needed
And an enthusiastic dad who knew all the castle building tricks
For our constructions were always the biggest and most complicated with the longest and deepest moat
Fed by sea water as we held our breath at each approaching wave
We took it seriously and made fantasy worlds amongst the sands
Where princesses, dragons and wizards peopled our minature worlds
At night we donned huge black rubber inner tubes to float dream-like on the warm whispering salty waves
Then kicked for life and for the shore when the sea floor sank away
Fun fairs and penny arcades were an evening delight
Donned in pretty cotton dresses, frilly petticoats and clean white socks
A far cry from the day attire of elasticated swim suits clogged with wet sand
And ninety nines were the latest craze then
So devour them we did
The skies were ever blue, the sand always warm, our hair and toes always full of this damp gritty delight
We ceased to dream for we knew we had it all…
A dark vibe gathered over Europe
Silk sheets and whispers
Passion flowing; fires building
Come the dawn; silence
Giving love to one
Forever in Shadow Land
Spirit tests the Soul
If I close my eyes tight and try not to cry
I can still see the blue waves on the shore
Washing over the magic circle inscribed
Upon the wet sand
Four poems you said
That was all it would take
A poem for each corner of the world
But the blue waves upon the shore
Seemed to pierce my heart
Breaking through the magic circle
I had cast tight around myself
A circle of hope
A circle of four poems
Squaring my circle
You were of this world you said
Yet I always saw your other worldy aura
The magic circle that surrounded you
With blue waves on the shore line; pulsating
I gave my heart
With four poems
But they took you home…..
(Created at the wonderful Allographic Workshop in Cambridge from suggested words and phrases birthed from the suggested word of ‘Lunatic’)
Hidden in the shadow, with her soul out of sync
And not of the world; she was dancing with the hare
Was it the madness of the moon cycles
Or simply the moon wisdom
Her hidden wisdom
That had bought her here?
Her search for stability?
The ways of the dark called
She knew she was not of the sun
Oh how crazy she thought
Crazy but right
She knew the ways of the blood
Danced to the monthly cycle
The lunar activity
No longer out of sync
No longer not of the world
But in the darkness
With her hidden soul alive
She was dancing with the hare eternally
Still on the subject of ‘time’ which seems very appropriate in the moments we are living through and how events are currently playing out on our world
Suspended in the illusion of Time
Future and past tightly woven as one into the tapestry of destiny
Ancient tales from the scrolls of life etched onto reality
Manifesting into dreams and desires that were once only that
Time lines changed by those who weave the web
But tell me, was it woven from the inner realms of my subconscious?
Or do the starlight worlds pull silken threads tight around my soul?
Tightening still as known worlds fade to grey, disappearing before heart and eyes wide open
The Roaring Lion goes unheard as amber sunlight reveals the Serpent Path
And the Howling Wolf casts shadows of silver and blood upon my life
I reach and grasp the thread, allowing the tide of destiny to flow within my heart
The night sky becomes an open book for this eager clay born infant
The words have always been written, yet read by few
Only now can I even begin to read between the lines
Yet who are we?
Us who hide inside this human form and dare to sip the Cup of Life, innocently unaware that it is we who are the Key?
That which is sought
When Time unfolds, our future surely was always written by the Star of Insight and our paths already sacrificially trod by Messengers of the past
Past and future only now become one and the unseen becomes the seen to those of The Way