Archive for ‘Of the Sylph’

19/01/2013

Painkiller

 

My screams are petals, leaves and buds,

Their blooms, I howl down from the stars,

In solitary flights they fade,

From treetops shed their seasons’ end.

 

I cannot say I do not fear

What lies beneath, what is so near.

I cannot hide, nor pass unseen,

Before these people I have been.

 

These eyes have held a mirrored sky,

Ensouled the air and stared through depths

Which others see and doubt no more:

These pains which come with beauty’s name.

 

Although I have no choice but this,

My screams are blossoms of my bliss.

 

 

19/01/2013

Like Hummingbirds and Astronauts

 

Above the chaos, lives and clouds

A stillness – silver, pure as light –

Envelopes all and coats the stars,

Creates the blue and planet’s curves.

 

Above, in flight, as one we flow,

As lines, as points, as rippled air,

As pressure nodes of thunder’s birth,

We burst a universe of wings.

 

And there where blood and breath won’t flow,

Our feathers brush the edge of space,

And on this stratospheric arch,

Our wings touch tips then head for Earth.

 

We carry in our hearts the calm.

We’ve seen the truth: it’s all there is.

 

 

19/01/2013

In the Air

 

You lead me through the lives of stars,

Encircle all who wish to see.

You slip through time, you link and bind.

You light the deep and endless blue.

 

Your revelations never cease:

On moonless nights you show the way;

In caves your luminescence shines;

On forest floors you mark the trails.

 

You hold me as I fall apart,

And cradle all my fading sparks.

You gather up the thoughts of me,

And place them on the tops of trees.

 

Your light, which flows through every point,

Connects me to the flux of life.

 

linked up to the great:  Poets United

 

14/01/2013

Oh Whistle and I’ll Come, My Lad

 

A space between the sky and death

Where tides leave tracings of belief,

And words can summon or dissolve

The science of our solid world.

 

That space, in which the phantoms play

With fragile games and fickle minds,

Conventions, platitudes and thoughts

Are shaken from its nightmare’s breath.

 

And last when shards of safety shred,

We’re left an awful truth to face:

The nameless horror on the beach

Which twists and turns and tightens on.

 

The space in which we all are thrown:

We walk, we sleep, we die alone.

 

 

(based on the story by M.R. James)

13/01/2013

The Alchemy of Rains

 

They saw the signs: the swelling seas,

The bloodied skies, the shaken trees.

They shut their eyes, they shut them tight,

In silence sought the simple light.

 

They hid their houses high in hills,

While down below the valleys filled.

They closed their hearts, they closed their minds,

In isolation cut their binds.

 

They fled before the falling fear,

Made anguished cries so god’s might hear.

They ran away, they ran so fast:

Ran from their futures and their pasts.

 

The Ondine flooded out their homes,

The Sylph made patterns from their bones.

 

 

 

08/01/2013

Suburban Sylph of Crying Owls

 

The cry which stripped the street away,

Which left the ancient marsh to rise,

And claimed the gardens for the pine,

Lets loose the wolves and bears of old.

 

A scream the soul of night itself,

Which stretched the forest, coast to coast.

Inhuman land beneath the moon,

Unused to axe, to fear, to smoke.

 

And then up close: the clack of beak.

A yard or so: the scratching claws.

A foot and less: near silent whisps,

Of wings so soft they make no breath.

 

And last I hear the heart and pulse,

And feel nocturnal howlings rise.

 

 

04/01/2013

Shearwater (Sylph of Trolleval)

 

The voices echo through the isles:

An invocation from the skies,

A ceaseless chant around the hills,

A manic chattering of spells.

 

We are interpreters who hear

These mystery songs and forge our tales,

Our ocean rhymes, our waves of light,

Our words of human fear and flight.

 

The wisdom in the speech of birds

Is knowledge from a different world.

Our mountain stories magnify

The hubris in the things we know.

 

The shearwater spoke no words:

We missed the truth in what was heard.

 

 

shared with Poetry Pantry

Trolleval (Trollebhal)

 

 

02/01/2013

The Echo Sylphs of Winter

 

The day closed in with mist and rain

And hills dissolved as shadow clouds.

The limits of the air and land

Were waters flowing, merged and blurred.

 

The river rolled its mirror heart,

And trout were birds and birds were trout.

As peat-smoke was the mid-day sky:

It sank through depths of weed and pike.

 

A dead tree, shattered by a storm,

Now spiked its bark into the fog.

As fungus drenched its core in spores

And from its tips the tree dripped life.

 

The air was heavy, forests light,

The river floated, day was night.

 

 

02/01/2013

Evening Air, Lisbon

 

The city air is swept with swifts.

In gusts they drift, then dart as one,

A howling cloud, a swirling hoard:

They shatter all pretense of calm.

 

The sky leaks shadows from the trams,

And spreads them through the boulevards.

The dust and smoke that made the day,

Now settle back and sink away.

 

The heat and drains and old cigars –

An opalescent mix of scents –

Are snaking over castle hill,

And wrap around the wings of gulls.

 

Above the screams of love and fear,

The swifts fly free through city air.

 

 

01/01/2013

The Sylph of Finance

 

Their songs are passed from cloud to cloud

As haloed rainbows, curved from sound.

Their words are rhymed and timed to hide

The storms unleashed across the Earth.

 

Their songs are shaken from their wings,

And, feathers flicking, ring and ring

The ancient notes so clear and pure.

They sing in bliss and perfect pitch.

 

One note to bleed the working poor,

The next to drain the moorland peat.

A simple tune to stoke the fears:

Unheard the prayers, the cries, the grief.

 

Their songs they sing from distant skies,

As old as air, untouched by care.

 

 

Linked up on d’verse

31/12/2012

Limit of Learning (They Took the Sky)

 

Those skies were never meant to end.

Off west the distant Irish coast,

And east the millstone cities smoke:

Horizons wide enough for dreams.

 

Then came the day they closed the sky:

One little push, one breeze to blow.

They left the air but took the far,

So less and less would raise their heads.

 

Together we would wish the Earth,

Instead were left with measured ground,

And shivered at the thought of worlds

Beyond the confines of our plots.

 

We reached, we yearned, we stared, we learned:

And then they took away the sky.

 

.

30/12/2012

The Sylph of Air and Time

 

Between the treetops time has curves

Where decades twine like blackbird’s songs,

Where centuries are interlaced,

And pasts are born from future space.

 

To work the weave you sway with trees,

And wind your mind up through the leaves.

Your neurons switch from time through time,

Through interlinking rings which bind.

 

In them you’ll live what might have been,

And twist back out through what is not:

All knowledge of the lives and deaths,

Are hanging in the forest’s breaths.

 

The chaos of this heavy air

Creates the mirage we see there.

30/12/2012

The Sylph of Dales’ Song

 

Above the hills and northern dales,

Above the outcrops on the moors,

Above the mists and passing rains,

Above the senses and the dreams,

 

It saw the world for what it was.

It smoothed the waters, rocks and flames.

It watched the changing, watched the lulls.

It wrapped the world and lungs it filled.

 

It quivered with the wings of birds,

It gathered all their voices up,

It kept them for the sun to breathe,

It kept them for the stars to grieve.

 

Above the beauty of the skies,

Above the tales, above the lives.