February’s Room

King of spiders,

Serene, unafraid now, of death,

Warms his new-fire-bloated body

In the crawl space,

The wall space

Above the dusty pelmet.

Routed winter seems in retreat;

tending wounds in Valentine’s mists

We almost fancy we hear the

Advancing belles of spring.

The name of the old, underground god

Is sprayed on establishment’s walls again –

“Coming to the Rescue!”

Polite, beg-steal-borrow society

Apathetically shivers:

Is the balance swinging too quickly

Towards the goose-step years?

Solstice.

These are the times when seas

Are flicker-black and silver white;

The icy gears of time and colour

Whir, click and gyre

Inside my head and out –

I hear them, feel them slip, miss,

Come alive on this, the least-light day

Of calendar’s small, moon-ruled patterns.

Horizon birthed skyline is a slow bonfire

Between present-grey and lack of clarity.

Did nature bring the reflective

Stillnesses of winter?

Or did we invent them?

 

My Cold-Silver Princess

This question-prompt night, I feel the

Travel-far wind of her passing –

My cold-silver princess moon –

As it gently settles its precious

White-ice powder

On my aching soul and

Continue reading

Water Gypsy

grebe

Pirate-eyed,

Dragon-ruffed,

Lion-maned,

Pharaoh-masked:

I am water Gypsy –

Diver of the

Deep Truth Lakes.

You are welcome to walk

The margins of the seasons,

The borders between our souls.

But, if you think

To cross the divide

There will be fierce questions.

 

Photo source: www.bbc.co.uk

28/3/2013

The White

DSC00981

The white that fell
Like mushroom spores
Giddily, god-driven; endlessly
Down the skies,
Across the winds.
The white that fell;
That carpeted lawns
That changed the contours,
That blanked the colours,
That washed the sight,
That revised plans,
That altered the focus.
The white that fell
That froze the breaths
Of unfolded sheep;
Brought strangers to the window,
Magnified distance
And bent familiar routes.
The white that fell?
It’s falling still.

Charlotte’s Grandchildren

 

 

In the distance, below the horizon ridge

A honey coated horse is head down grazing;

At rest,  firm edged shadow leaning long

Down the gentle February slope.

It is nearly possible to hear the explosions

In the atomic heart workings of the sun –

On a day which balances preciously between

Passing winter and welcome spring…

And Charlotte’s grandchildren are

Taking to the joyful jester-hope skies.

 

spider

 

Photo source: http://dkphoto.photoshelter.com/gallery/Spiders-Garden-Crab/G0000PHhyD69UrU4/C000057PyqgyM.nI

 

Even When …

Now
The discontent
Of our winter
Slips away;
The spearshake distraction,
Out through the in door –
So swiftly we have to
Concentrate double-hard
To remember why it was –
Like money,
Even when you are careful;
Like love,
Even when you are committed.

27/1/2013

Tell Me …

Tell me:
Do you smell the snow,
The fall that’s yet to come?

And:
Do you sense the bitter spoor
Of the desperate, hunting
Long tooth cat?
The souls of those she seeks?

The graceful ghosts of
Those who’ve past
Walk with your feet,
Share your eyes and
Speak in your gestures:
The time has come.

I am delight-hearted
That we will
Sit the rib-fire,
Together, this evening;
Feel the unsettling, eastern
White-wolf breath
As it passes
To polish the
Proud, precious spirit eyes
Of winter-sky watchers –
Scrubs the dark-witch distances
Dividing them.

Proud to sing
The pasts with you –
And to dance
Our futures.

12/1/2013