Posts tagged ‘mysteries’

27/07/2013

Minotaur on the Moortops

 

He tries to sink back through the earth,

Through iridescent slips of schist,

To where the rock can douse his eyes,

Quench fire of sight, dull iris light.

 

The space – which counts the stars as months,

And judges time by shadow falls –

where lives can howl and show their age.

Each tick of sun and moon: a death

 

Up here, where echoes never start,

He lays down low and feels through peat

The rocks beneath, the subtle heat,

The walls where blood is merged with night.

 

Unfreed, unbound, and lost beyond:

The air is thin and spiked with sound.

 

 

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20/05/2013

Secret Hiding Place

 

Amongst the lime-sun barley spikes,

A conch-curled shell of azure hides:

A field of summer, field of spring,

A field that Demeter would sing

 

Where lovers run through trails of stems

And trace their broken tracks through life,

To where the underworld begins,

To where the sun and night are streams.

 

It’s there amongst the twisted grass,

There they hang from grains and grasp

At rains which come as echo seas:

The hidden ones who cast their shells

 

For now their light of life will glow,

And deep within their mysteries flow.

 

 

Poem inspired by the rather wonderful photograph, taken by Silentwonderland,

and found here: http://silentwonderland.wordpress.com/2013/05/13/secret-hiding-place/

 

 

 

 

02/05/2013

Words on Island Shores

 

We spoke the words on island shores:

Before the rains, before the snows,

Before the coming storms and floods.

We spoke the words, we heard the world.

 

It shook the islands, shook the ferns.

It took a word from oak, a word

It took, and tales it spun, the oak –

In mountains – pouring spoken rains.

 

We passed beyond the lives of oak,

We took the tales to coming storms,

The mountains spat the islands down,

We heard the tales and spoke the tales.

 

Unbroken tales from skies, to rains,

To lakes, to oaks, to island shores.

 

 

10/11/2012

The New House

 

The corridors were made of speech,

So loud you could not hear their words,

But everything they said made sense:

They’d heard this life and spoke of death.

 

The grandest hall revealed its gifts:

It filled its floor with corn and gold;

Its mirrors split and reeled its light;

Its tables full; its serpents sleek.

 

The garden took you to its core.

It played its role, it played its year,

It sang its birds and wheeled its moths,

Then in its torchlight danced its night.

 

And when at last you ate and drank,

You were renewed, you gave up thanks.