Arrival
We berthed in Madelena on her feast day -
She who'd washed Jesus' feet with tears
And dried them long hair that had been touched
By countless men, she who'd been delivered of seven devils
The waves were high and mist hid the volcano
While the shearwaters hugged the foam white topes
She'd been first to see, after crucifixion, Him -
A gardener risen from the earth
Will you allow us in now Magdalena
Can we find new life in you again?
As we pollute the seas can you heal
Our disease - if not, what on earth shall we do?
Levels
Beneath the sky
The peak
Beneath the peak
The volcano
Beneath the volcano
The spring
Inside the spring
The cloud
Inside the cloud
The peak
Inside the peak
The volcano
Atlantis Dream
Atlas shrugged
And rose, the summit of the gods
With sometime help from Hercules
Here arose Atlantis
Where cobbled squares were paved
With wisdom until inundated
She sank,
in prophetic catastrophe
The dolphins forsook squares
For sea,
And only a volcanic
Reminder remains
Rainbow journey
A rainbow's end at dawn
Glittered here, high on this cliff top
Ready for take off
Gold leaf shimmering at our feet
A crocus bloomed
Silver sparkled on the ocean
Azure sky beckoning us to leap
Onto this bridge of fractured light
Into the future
Another resurrection
It was a place
Where bees and bats
Were blown out to sea off course
Accidentally seeking out
The sweetest, not the sour
One bat, more than half-drowned
Was found and,
Being brought back to land
Was hospitalled in a towel
In a bucket in a bedroom
And fed all night on sugared milk.
Next day
As the other bats flew at noon
And I took down a breakfast dead fly,
She showed me the captive creature
And as it tired to feed, it climbed
Blind as if in panic, out
Of the towel, onto her hand,
Then suddenly
It took to the air in flight
Full and whole again like the Magdalene's
Brother, but bolder, high and further
Spiralling up and out of sight in the bright noonday
Seeking to be lost again.
Dolphin swimming
The deep blue,
Bluer than blue,
Azure cathedral
With stained glass
Light spiraling up
From the abyss
Bringing with you
Dolphins, dolphin
Upon dolphin
Cascading as many
As you could see
That filled the eye
As many as you
Could hear, that filled
The ear with songs
And clicked in
Mackerel balls,
Sonaring us, seeing
Through us, and beyond
And then, were gone
Blue Void
When You go
Only the blue void remains
Filling it with our imagination
We grow afraid
With infinite dread
Mystic whale
I saw You in the
Whale's eye
In the dolphin's leap
In the fish's flight
Moth-like over
The glittering, limpid waves
I lost You
In the whale's dive
As her twenty tons
Slipped gently beneath
Our boat, no ripple
Or splash, phluke fluming
Her silent farewell
I knew You in the whale's goodbye.
Distant visitor
Turtle
Touched ten
Thousand miles
Sharp beak
Here, shore to shore
You dived in
Reckless, unlike, but
Like
Yourself:
Following unto
The ends of earth
Seeing sirens
Diving,
Diving
I could not follow
Though you
Impelled me
Each time
Coming as close
As you, or perhaps
I dared
Then going on,
Looking back
At my clumsy
Trials to
Go deep, stay
Deep, until, seeing
New clouds in the
Blue skies too far
Beneath the waters
I sensed
That in going on
There would be no going back
And so I turned
And returned
To my world
Refusing you, wondering
What might have been
Perhaps not yet ready
For the final void.
Plankton
One day the sea
Was filled with plankton
A thick green soup
Rich in food for whales
But no whales came; instead
A turtle, upturned coracle or grail
We dived in, evacuating the safety of the boat
Forsaking Maria's beauty
Thirsting for an oracle
That would never speak.
Octopus
Drifting by the shore
Swimming together
In the shoaling mass of fish
Fleeing the dolphins' lure
He saw her, found her
Guiding me there
I could barely see
His youth, my eyes
His freedom, my
Accoutrements
Confusing in blurred
Underwater vision
The path to freedom
Lajes
The little town
Once home to whaling fleets
Boats of ten men guided by the flags of the Virgin
Wrestling 70 ton of whale
With wooden spears
Giving way in time to factory ships and exploding harpoons
That, across the world, gave no quarter
To Job's Leviathan
Until in conscience, and fear of extinction,
The whaling stopped
Or pretended to be stopped
Whilst Japan, Norway and Iceland carried on,
Little Pico abided by the rule
And slaughter turned to tourism
So that those of us mesmerised
By the haunting beauty
Of the biggest mammals ever to have lived
Can watch in wonder
And seek to understand
As the once wealthy town slumbers in poverty
Beneath rumbling Pico
Warm and uncertain
Waiting for Atlantis
Tuesday, 29 May 2007
MISCELLANIES
CRUCIFIX
See the hill at evening - see the sky.
Feel the stars slip silently over
your lips in the night.
See the hill at evening - feel the wood.
Nails in a plank of twilight,
taste the blood.
See the city of shivering
light; children softly
dispensing hearts, while we
shift unseeing by. Be ready
for death in the morning, be
ready for the child will be
our executioner.
See the hill at eveing, see the sky;
feel the earth's pain spinning
towards a glimmer at dawn.
Feel our bodies lying here
like seeds upon the floor; but
what life will our love be making,
will the cross be on the wind ?
See the hill at evening -see the sky;
feel the stars slip silently over
the earth's pain in your eyes;
see the hill at evening,
red the wood. Nails
in a cross of twilight
taste our blood.
WAYLAND
In his circle of trees on the Ridgeway
he shod his white horse and went away
Fire in his breath, hammer in hand:
dark master of iron from the womb of the land.
his laugh is windswept, vague is his hue;
but the earth rejoices at his craft ever new.
Now as the corn grows or cracks in the sun
or the gold in the leaves tells of autumn begun:
as the green springs in the lengthened daylight
or white lady moon lights the winter snows bright
Old Wayland goes riding or making alone
on his white horse of power by his blood and his bone.
Now as the land's crushed beneath concrete and cars
or forests are felled for the supermarket wars
or as the springs bleed and drain without tears
or new homes are needed and the river disappears
Is Wayland on his horse, guarding his fire
or running on empty, burnt out of desire ?
THE BALLAD OF STARION FAIRCHILD
She was born on a planet a long way from here
where the nightime was as long as a year
She was tiny and golden beautiful and wild
her name it waas simply Starion Fairchild
She was carried away one day by a dream
and when she looked back her world was a-gleam
She landed in a place of deep green and dew
it was a world which had been made new
She dreamed again her dream took her far
by galaxies cloud gases by nova and star
To a world that was dying which needed her bliss
she shared it and passed by, leaving with a kiss
By the Great Spiral Nebula by hunter and belt
she moved in her wonder whither as she felt
To Omega and Alpha Centauri she came
and any who saw her were warmed by her flame
By Pluto, Uranus by the Mounts of the Moon
you know she is coming she might be here soon
( chorus: Starion, Starion, Starion Fairchild - beautiful woman, innocent child )
MIDWINTER POEM
No sleep
5 am
A battalion of angels
In the corner of my eye
Not for me, surely?!
Crying, somewhere in the house
6 am
Searching, screeching outside
Cats? Or a murdered woman?
My scorched hand
A wormhole in time to you,
Bound, and through you
As ever
To Eternity and Heaven
As in darkness
I wrestle with no-thing
And shadows
Daring not to disturb
The universe
By calling upon angels
See the hill at evening - see the sky.
Feel the stars slip silently over
your lips in the night.
See the hill at evening - feel the wood.
Nails in a plank of twilight,
taste the blood.
See the city of shivering
light; children softly
dispensing hearts, while we
shift unseeing by. Be ready
for death in the morning, be
ready for the child will be
our executioner.
See the hill at eveing, see the sky;
feel the earth's pain spinning
towards a glimmer at dawn.
Feel our bodies lying here
like seeds upon the floor; but
what life will our love be making,
will the cross be on the wind ?
See the hill at evening -see the sky;
feel the stars slip silently over
the earth's pain in your eyes;
see the hill at evening,
red the wood. Nails
in a cross of twilight
taste our blood.
WAYLAND
In his circle of trees on the Ridgeway
he shod his white horse and went away
Fire in his breath, hammer in hand:
dark master of iron from the womb of the land.
his laugh is windswept, vague is his hue;
but the earth rejoices at his craft ever new.
Now as the corn grows or cracks in the sun
or the gold in the leaves tells of autumn begun:
as the green springs in the lengthened daylight
or white lady moon lights the winter snows bright
Old Wayland goes riding or making alone
on his white horse of power by his blood and his bone.
Now as the land's crushed beneath concrete and cars
or forests are felled for the supermarket wars
or as the springs bleed and drain without tears
or new homes are needed and the river disappears
Is Wayland on his horse, guarding his fire
or running on empty, burnt out of desire ?
THE BALLAD OF STARION FAIRCHILD
She was born on a planet a long way from here
where the nightime was as long as a year
She was tiny and golden beautiful and wild
her name it waas simply Starion Fairchild
She was carried away one day by a dream
and when she looked back her world was a-gleam
She landed in a place of deep green and dew
it was a world which had been made new
She dreamed again her dream took her far
by galaxies cloud gases by nova and star
To a world that was dying which needed her bliss
she shared it and passed by, leaving with a kiss
By the Great Spiral Nebula by hunter and belt
she moved in her wonder whither as she felt
To Omega and Alpha Centauri she came
and any who saw her were warmed by her flame
By Pluto, Uranus by the Mounts of the Moon
you know she is coming she might be here soon
( chorus: Starion, Starion, Starion Fairchild - beautiful woman, innocent child )
MIDWINTER POEM
No sleep
5 am
A battalion of angels
In the corner of my eye
Not for me, surely?!
Crying, somewhere in the house
6 am
Searching, screeching outside
Cats? Or a murdered woman?
My scorched hand
A wormhole in time to you,
Bound, and through you
As ever
To Eternity and Heaven
As in darkness
I wrestle with no-thing
And shadows
Daring not to disturb
The universe
By calling upon angels
POND POEMS
POND POEMS
High summer
In summer we become hermits
Semi-nocturnal, coming to water
At dawn or dusk, whenever
The sun-seekers have dispersed
Or cannot see us
Only as glimpsed shadows
Flickering amongst the glades
Disappearing, almost before
We have begun
Autumn swim
We were grasping
For the last gasps of summer’s
Leavings. Bits of leaf,
Sticks, a wonder-full
Lily-leaf, huge and
Juiced, with all the
Season’s stock.
Not many of us left
Now. Dribs and drabs
Daring the coming cold,
Foretelling of life’s loss
As wind and light dooms us all
Late Autumn
Entering, the cold chill
Pricks the skin
Penetrates
Into my bones
Lungs gasp for oxygen wealth.
Light, green, brown
Silver glimmerings
Tease my eyes
Death lurks
The deep shadows.
Kingfisher
Usually skittish, elusive
Dropping slivers of gold,
Silver, turquoise
Like a Native American jewel
Skimming across the pond
But today, a standing stone,
A totem dolmen
Upon the willow
You allow me to drift
Silently in prayer beneath
On Missing A Swim
The golden field, green, red,
Watered by the sun
Turned every shade of light
You might imagine
There, lurks no shadow
Only promise; no regrets
Only potential. Life is more
Than poetry tell, or music score
Green Cave
Switch off
Shut down
What cannot be
Obtained, does not
Exist. If I shut
My eyes, you don’t
Exist. Go away.
Shut out
Shut in
The world
A million miles away
This universe is soundless
The water closes in
No second chance
We waited, sitting in the car
In the rain. Too wet
To get out. No umbrellas
The plum grey skies
Made it clear that
Exit was impossible
The Heath, too muddy
for your delicate feet
Barred the way today
Daily hangover
No voice
Only what You speak
No ears
Only what You hear
No sight
Only what You see
No touch
Only Yours
No smell
Only Your scent
No I
Only You
The Prisoner
Be seeing you
Down by the old straight track
Follow that star to the ley-line
Meet you again
By Boudicca’s grave
Save me a seat
At the back.
High summer
In summer we become hermits
Semi-nocturnal, coming to water
At dawn or dusk, whenever
The sun-seekers have dispersed
Or cannot see us
Only as glimpsed shadows
Flickering amongst the glades
Disappearing, almost before
We have begun
Autumn swim
We were grasping
For the last gasps of summer’s
Leavings. Bits of leaf,
Sticks, a wonder-full
Lily-leaf, huge and
Juiced, with all the
Season’s stock.
Not many of us left
Now. Dribs and drabs
Daring the coming cold,
Foretelling of life’s loss
As wind and light dooms us all
Late Autumn
Entering, the cold chill
Pricks the skin
Penetrates
Into my bones
Lungs gasp for oxygen wealth.
Light, green, brown
Silver glimmerings
Tease my eyes
Death lurks
The deep shadows.
Kingfisher
Usually skittish, elusive
Dropping slivers of gold,
Silver, turquoise
Like a Native American jewel
Skimming across the pond
But today, a standing stone,
A totem dolmen
Upon the willow
You allow me to drift
Silently in prayer beneath
On Missing A Swim
The golden field, green, red,
Watered by the sun
Turned every shade of light
You might imagine
There, lurks no shadow
Only promise; no regrets
Only potential. Life is more
Than poetry tell, or music score
Green Cave
Switch off
Shut down
What cannot be
Obtained, does not
Exist. If I shut
My eyes, you don’t
Exist. Go away.
Shut out
Shut in
The world
A million miles away
This universe is soundless
The water closes in
No second chance
We waited, sitting in the car
In the rain. Too wet
To get out. No umbrellas
The plum grey skies
Made it clear that
Exit was impossible
The Heath, too muddy
for your delicate feet
Barred the way today
Daily hangover
No voice
Only what You speak
No ears
Only what You hear
No sight
Only what You see
No touch
Only Yours
No smell
Only Your scent
No I
Only You
The Prisoner
Be seeing you
Down by the old straight track
Follow that star to the ley-line
Meet you again
By Boudicca’s grave
Save me a seat
At the back.
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