Posts tagged ‘ritual’

28/07/2013

Ariadne’s Ritual (video)

 

 

 

 

a short film for the poem Ariadne’s Ritual, which can be found in this collection.

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26/01/2013

A Walk to the Isle in the Marsh (Walk No. 10)

 

Is every walk a walk of death?

Across the marshes to the isle,

Traversing fears and passing ghosts,

To rise at last amongst the lost.

 

Is every site a monument:

A shrine to memory, life and love,

A locus for the wanderer’s truth,

A proof that we had meaning once?

 

Each walk may seem to set us free,

To live at last amongst the souled,

To feel the flow from earth to sky,

To be apart and yet to be.

 

I recognise the way ahead:

Each wondrous view will mark the dead.

 

 

31/10/2012

The Ritual of Autumn (The Gathering)

 

The bank beneath the shedding larch

Was studied gold with chanterelle.

A basket twice the size of this

Would hold a half the mushrooms in.

 

Above, a goldcrest flicked at webs,

Its call so high I’d miss it soon:

Too old to reach its pitch of life.

The needle fevered goldcrest picked.

 

A year of rain had swollen leaves.

A hawthorn hedge was rich with birds:

A chirm of finches, families grouped,

Were gorging through the glut of fruit.

 

The rites of gleaning, rites of growth,

With chants of birds and scent of earth.

11/06/2012

The Final Ritual

 

Before your long descent you bathe

In waters drawn from Acheron.

You feast and light the fires of death.

The shadows start to move and speak.

 

The first few steps into the dark

Will take you from the world you know.

These final minutes of your life

Will shred all sense of what is real.

 

The dampness of the walls and air

Has soaked your naked, puckered skin.

The deeper in the maze you move

The louder come the shadow’s taunts.

 

You stagger in your final room,

And here – where echoes cease – you see.

15/05/2012

The Minotaur Ritual

 

Up from the sickly flowers of lead –

Whose blueish petals pale and drooped

Are soaked in black and matted blood –

The horns of consecration rise.

 

A liminal state of recompense

For ancient slights in sacrifice:

A creature born to neither form

Is left to wander through the dark.

 

Galena glints and burns within.

The furnace tipped towards the south,

And molten metal flows through time:

The monster slips between two states.

 

The flowers are gathered up and crushed.

Amongst the mines a new bull reigns.