Posts tagged ‘flowers’

20/04/2013

Corncrakes (South Uist)

 

The sweetened stench of kelp in lines –

As long as reef and Viking old –

Comes tangled with lamenting seals,

With diver’s wails of freedoms edge.

 

And through that sharpened sense of sky,

Across the machair, orchid wild,

The corncrakes called and answered spring,

And sleepless summoned summer’s nights.

 

These are the worlds of ocean spray,

Of distant deeps and tangled sedge,

Of histories hidden in the sands,

Of islands on the brink of time.

 

Through scented tides they call the moon:

The corncrakes mark the passing years.

 

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20/04/2013

Corncrakes (Slovenia)

 

At night the village dropped its blinds,

Its shutters closed, its curtains drawn,

And pillows piled to drown the scrape

And rake and ratchet calls of crakes.

 

The meadows sweet with flower heads,

Alive with honey bees and hay,

Cut once by hand and dried in air:

The birds could find their shelter there.

 

The echo owls call out for hours,

And nightingales let flow their stars.

The village knew their world was right:

They tended, coppiced, nurtured flight.

 

The villages knew the summer nights

Were full of corncrakes, full of life.

 

 

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.

 

 

26/10/2012

On Immanence

 

So who believes the sun and moon

Are spun as light and death combined,

Are melancholic twists of life,

Reflections cast and shadows shone?

 

And who can feel the planet’s pulse:

A universal burst and void,

A heart which beats as photon’s flow,

A home, a tomb, a silent space?

 

And who can see the distant spark:

One suffered, born and suffered on,

Through copper sunrise, opal dawn,

The spark which grew from star to speech?

 

Yet here in grass and flowers uncut,

I see the answer, smell belief.