Question
A question of the future.
Onto the heath grass weighing - what seems
A problem, at least a decision.
It is a long time since he has witnessed the sun set
A repeat performance
Of something often taken place
Often without this witness weighing the balance
Wich way to set his future?
Dip or rise?
Remain steady?
Slowly the clouds spred across the horizon
Turn colours
The cream streaks of distant clouds
The smoke blue of tumbledown clouds
Turning colour
The yellow sun goes below.
Reddening and yellowing the cloud edges
Turn colour
Vast fiery nebulae of orange cloud
Hold the distant white sky
In perpetual motion
Of turning colour.
There are only colours on the green heath's
Horizon
Mellowing in the sunset
Now whirling turning black dots
A flock of birds
Rising and falling in the rite of sunset.
There are no real questions
Who is there to know?
From The Sphere of the Moon Goddess
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Wilderness
In the centre of the city cats still live their primitive ways,
Out towards the murky edge where country green infringes on town
Marigolds grow in concrete cracks, return to the beginning days.
The wilderness has returned to a shanty town now all tumbled down.
This is the earth, encrusted with a concrete slab that slowly cracks!
This the earth I grew up and in, watching seasons go, come and grow
Now the leaning lamposts crumble, the roads sag, sprout fern bracken
All there is left are the trees, grown much mightier, seed trees we sowed.
Silver birch, plum, fir and an unknown tallest tree crooked at the stem
This crowns the entrance to an old oval world I'll not condemn
It is a wilderness, was when we were ten,
A natural den.
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The Cascade
I knew I needed cold open hills.
What it was, trudging free, not thrills,
Fording swampy bogs in bare feet
In search of when all shall be sweet,
Wondering walking way from who weep
Cold blasting wind neighing shag sheep.
To restore my self with its parts
The running streams, bare stone, bird darts.
Roaring the water gushed over crags
Down wards the goal, a rocky way.
Savage furious on it pounds, spirit never sags
The power is all, the life must flow, cannot lay
In stagnant pools of sucking mud, the tags
Of plastic the world reveres - or so they say.
The Lake District, England
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Above Kingston parish church
Three miles beyond in the river valley
Rests a square tower of Saxon times
A church which has crowned seven kings
Descended from invaders in galleys.
On the violet haze begin rounds of downs.
From this green grown hill full with trees
Housing the light chirruping birds
Are seen the bleak outcrops of modern towns.
A great black bird waddles through tufty clumps
Of grass, at peace with the calm,
The feel of still air covered with the strewn
Glowering colours of the new spring months.
The mystery resides in soft earth now
The once proud church has few pilgrims
Who wish to pray to the unknown
To the inexplicable, to ask 'How?'
To witness among the trees of myrtle
Sheens of ever living presence
Pervading all, sky earth creature
Is to know rapture, the real life, the fertile.
Because you can see and feel perfection
Past distraction, refraction
Of light, colour, sound, assume there is
The entity beyond correction.
Yet this life all about is also in here
Heat of releasing energy
You blaze out into the still air
Which is the sky, the earth, all that is clear.
You will sink with the sun never to rise
One day, when you wish it, the lesson
Ends, release your faltering hold
On the unchanging change seen by the wise.
The mellowed beams ring you in last blessing,
Suffering you cry "The finish, God!"
The voice answers quickly, "Dare you?"
In your skull a blaze of light is pressing.
This hill, our sometime boyhood haunt, has stood
A thousand years overlooking
A tower built in praise of what men know
To be beautiful beyond bad or good.
You cannot see the real, the hidden truth
Of living force, forcing up trees
Grass, colouring skies, dappling leaves
For you stamp it viciously under hoof.
It pounds within, without, it is still there
For you to recognise, control
The spirits rushing into air
All that can horrify is snared with care.
When once all men worshipped the ancient king
Built sanctuaries of grace and peace
Sang glad hymns to praise the wonder
Of creation, of themselves they did sing.
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Honey Moon
Our faces look to the bright blue light
Another day in London for the sun to shone
The beginning of the year, seek to be one
Daffodil yellow reveals - might.
Fire of the sun, the Ram's heat blasts
Early morning souls who want not to be lost
What did we do or see afraid of the cost?
Wanted to hold diamonds to last.
In a park where the leaves grow green
A shining duck's head flies on the light of day
All colour, beyond the question "Does it pay?"
Try to see the never been seen.
The moon in your face, honey white
Stuff so sweet and so pure, love in abundance
Into your eyes has stole the look of wondrance
Does that which elevates bite?
All is peace and calm on the grass
Liquid sparkles on the lake of swimming dogs
A phalanx of horses raise dust in a fog
Does that which pleases also pass?
An army of flowers waves yellowness
Saying yes to the hued sky, to the time of year
The stirring call, with ardour we must cheer
Loving the time's signs is happiness.
Honey moon you say, something sweet
Pain comes if we drag, not accept the challenge
To fly where we must, not think remorse revenge
Flying fleet down the starlit street.
The stuff in which we wish to bathe
Flows endlessly round in the universe's pond
There is nothing that will hurt or can despond
If with courage we sometimes rave.
The storming stress must find outlet
Life shrieks to show, to reveal, to propagate
Bodies shall live and breed or die insensate
Yes saying yes is not a bet.
What must we do to win? Shape style.
To give only to receive is not this deed
What we live in is flexible as the reed
We are creators for a while.
What am I saying honey moon?
Two dogs between them hold a stick
Dripping water they let it slip
The bond is subtle, can break soon.
Have the courage of conviction
Believe the yellow of the flowers, the bird song
The start of a new cycle, nothing is wrong
Build our land of no eviction.
Saturated in honeyed life
Aim for very highest of our secret dreams
Fill ourselves with hot ardour in hidden streams
Of the love that is beyond strife.
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