Monday, September 30, 2013


The mountains stepped across horizon's ragged hem,
and held accountable the flush and thread of clouds,
as if to mark the point where time began again,
and call to heel the warp and weft of nature's shroud,
that so, once more the image could be clear arranged,
and vista be declared as vision knelt in homage; bowed.

Cacophony of light in rumpled ranks fell into certain line,
as universe drew breath through soil to drag forth rocks,
and bring the breast of earth in rough, and hard-edged rise,
to cast the landscape high; all reason so to mock,
that solid, stable dirt could be easily transformed,
to pour like liquid upwards; thrown in brutal shock.

Such grandeur in the ordinary has been long confirmed,
through humble grains of soil and rubbled stones,
ingredients which nature stirs and turns through ages past,
to so create topography, with certainty bemoaned,
and in the doing raise up to heaven all that can be cast;
this world in all its beauty; such places we call home.


It was as if the heavens sobbed,
drowned earth in rain of tears,
reflected in the elements,
the grief within which seared.

Upon life's sodden canvas,
I saw my story writ,
knew that angels wept with me;
wiped eyes so filled with grief.

Earth sucked slow the waters,
heart let oceans wash,
and in the drowning dregs of it,
the memories were tossed.

Slow, sullen fall upon the soil,
sure drift across my Soul,
and in the drench of feelings,
I found myself recalled.

Sunday, September 29, 2013


The light distinctively is drawn
onto the breast of morning,
as shadow, dappled dreamings;
the day will be reborn.

And night surrenders slowly,
then in an instant gone,
as threads of shining sunshine,
weave yet another dawn.

To wake the addled musings,
from watered darkness torn,
will be the task of daylight;
the Now forever formed.

The Goddess and the Bear

Scheeweisschen by Catrin Welz-Stein
 Image: Catrin Weltz-Stein

The fruit falls swiftly from the tree,
the bear stands silent in the lake,
the figure crucified is seen
upon the framework of the dream.

With arms spread wide and silent eyes
they lift her high upon the boughs
and turn her face towards the south
where white-flanked cows raise shining knives
above the meek and pious brows.

With sure and steady strokes they strip
pink flesh from each initiate,
to bathe in sacred waters then
the raw-bled truth of god and men.

The wise man watches, monkey-faced
and clasps each paw in full embrace
around the pierced and bleeding feet
of Woman, raised … her Self to meet.

Then gathered in bright, whitened arms
the corpse is carried to the edge
of water, sanctified and deep
wherein the Goddess counsel keeps.

To lie beneath the water’s chill
and watch through full and empty eyes
the blood-washed sacrifice above
has been her greatest act of love.

Saturday, September 28, 2013


It's in the eddied wanting
things be other than they are,
where sadness drifts encircled,
in disappointment's path.

There can be no regretting,
when life is just embraced,
and all that is experienced,
is seen as perfect grace.

And yet it's not our natures,
to settle for the facts,
we hold onto so many dreams;
there is no turning back.

Desire engulfs and drowns us,
as wishing sets the oars,
and empty is the boat of life;
demand has crept on board.

Monday, September 23, 2013


Gathered up in passion's fraught embrace,
to drown in waves of long forgotten lust,
and know that in returning to the broken shore,
I held you, one more time, at any cost.

In tingled flesh and tangled hopes and dreams,
mind was drowned in surging, desperate seas,
and fell into an emptiness which yawned;
as body shuddered, ached; you were no more.


Mind displays on serried trays,
all that thought's collected,
ranged in rows which life collates;
the minutaie respected.

Large and small the memories,
are counted, held, replayed,
with all that's ever been retained,
through months and years and days.

Dusty shapes will stand forlorn,
until a choice is made,
consciousness blows dust away;
the then as now arrayed.

Wednesday, September 18, 2013


Sadness steals through
lost and  lingering days,
holding hands with hope
and stepping in the prints
which pain has left behind,
in glistening, darkened soil,
gingerly, neatly, and forgetfully
as it makes its steady way
through memory and time;
wanting only to find a path
beyond the hurting and the
helpless, hindered, holding
to what was and is no more.

Tuesday, September 17, 2013

The image stored

I saw my dark and evil self reflected
in the eyes of India. Displaced,
yet placed in cruel relief. The image
flickered, mocked and sighed.
So much for who I thought I was.
Within those eyes my heart lies bare,
a crystal vision on the pool,
so deep, so black and never plumbed;
but true - the image stored.

Monday, September 16, 2013


Scream-soaked sky of sodden grey
heralded her dance
as cyclone made her wilfull way
across the night entranced.
Her smile laid bare with sharpened teeth
she shredded leaf and tree
then spat her meal with wild disdain
into the seething sea.
The darkest hours of night were hers,
she shrieked her awful warning
until at last with mocking smile
fell into the arms of morning.
And in the still, bruised, chastened day
her parting gifts were seen;
destruction born of brutal dance-
drowned bodies on the beach.

1989 Bombay cyclone.

Sunday, September 15, 2013

Carrion crows

Gleaming black with royal sheen
your feathers slicked and tamed
you strut the stage of life's last days-
beside the hearse you stand.

A nod, a bow, the words polite
but nought is truly named,
you know your part, repeat the steps
and smile at this old game.

Your forehead full of sympathy,
dark eyes kept shaded still
beneath the cap of glistening black
which boasts authority.

And in this still, hard, silent place
the past cemented fast
you hold close guard on ceremony-
repeat for death, the dance.

Friday, September 13, 2013


The mask serenity was placed
and tightened with resolve,
to hide the truth of grief and fear;
all doubt to be dissolved.

It settled into place so neat,
that none could ever see,
the hell which roiled internally;
the pain of being me.

How easily they did believe,
how quickly were they fooled,
and so was I in mirrored shock;
the image long would hold.

Thursday, September 12, 2013


Reality licked sober lips
to feast upon the world,
in sweet and sour surrendering,
of light and taste and sound.
The clouds built solid shapes,
marooned marshmallow form,
and floated on a syrup sea,
of sky, in sharp line drawn.
The earth spread heavy table,
beneath deep heaven's song,
and gathered up the foods of life;
devoured what was begun.
In shocking shapes the universe,
revealed its hidden plans,
brought perfumed truth to being;
said this is who I am. 

Monday, September 9, 2013

Towers of Silence in Bombay

Calling, climbing, circling,
raucous in the heat -
servants stiffly suited
in preen of deepest black.
Funeral in their finery
they swoop, and glide and cry
around the Towers of Silence;
their table full supplied.
The garden grows in ramble
and cracks at summer's pull;
it's gentle green forgotten
beneath the dry, blue dome.
For death is always present-
companion to the feast
which comes in any season,
which calls to all who wait.
These carrion crows
of bright, bold beak
keep ready watch for when
the cloth is laid, the meal
prepared - the dinner may begin.

NB: The Towers of Silence are where Parsees are buried, their bodies food for the scavenging birds.


In sylphic slow remembering each wave,
does crest upon the moment unto waiting death,
and hold its breath upon the edge of hollow, dusted air,
as gristled soil and rock do shake into new forms;
with water in an endless push and breathless pull,
does drive with hidden purpose; gifts to share.

Such oceanic surging writhes and rolls,
fluidic flow which seeks and soothes and heals,
a planetary sap in aqueous stealth of rivered, driven being,
wherein the source of life is held and given;
elixir in elusive flux fulfilled and held,
until it breaks upon the sand in drench of tears.

Saturday, September 7, 2013


Tether Soul to purpose,
raise love to meaning's loft,
hold the crown integrity,
that life may be embraced.
In the silent doings,
being leads the way,
certainty discarded –
path to self is made.

This weekend we're asking for 30 of your own words plus the three following words for a total of 33 words.  
Tether Loft Crown


Friday, September 6, 2013

Before the wet

The day transfixed by humid heat,
Held captive, sullen, stilled;
Disturbed by hum of addled fans
Which brew the moistened air.