Sunday 26 December 2021

My girl

 The sweet pickle is here with us

my ittle pumpkin

with her melancholic eyes

run down body she arrives battered by a sea wave

slowly gradually reviving

resting and nourishing

sharing moments and rituals

growing pains smoothed away

her eyes sparking like dew drops


The quiet, the slow days, the rain, the cold

the silent tears I hold



Time after time

 Time after time

Sweet autumn breezes by and yet

each day filled with little moments 

precious still life

memories short and sweet

I am the good wife


Time after time 

clear open skies, sunrise flames

cooler winds , charcoal nights

and his breath

heavier and thicker, real life


Time after time

and again my self

inner outer misaligned

time lapse, twilight zone

my flesh and bone

old woman


Time after time

feeling and wanting

praying and dreaming

working and keeping

time lost, tense in the present

tight tension like string

thin yet strong

like spiderweb's thread

I am spider grandmother


Time after time

wise old me, strong

working with inner balacne

so fragile inside

like thousand sharp splinters

above and beyond a parallel dimesion

trying to break the tension


Time after time

I repeat myself 

boredom of the world's ignorance

working hard to disperse fear

time is here, here and now

and soon, just before

the end






https://earth-magick.com/journal/honoring-the-goddess-grandmother-spider/

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Spider_Grandmother


Sunday 1 August 2021

In the woods

 



The distance between

In the woods

The resonance of joyful play

Unseen space

Time and breath

hold still

beyond the trees

beyond the meadow

the sea


where I long to be

not you

just me

Waves

 It comes in waves

they say

I see

the sea

and drown

waves rise up to the surface

while I get dragged by deep currents

my thoughts

my breath

my body

my soul

my self


Sunday 7 February 2021

New every Morning

 ...

Here are the skies all burnished brightly,
Here is the spent earth all re-born,
Here are the tired limbs springing lightly
To face the sun and to share with the morn
In the chrism of dew and the cool of dawn.

Every day is a fresh beginning;
Listen, my soul, to the glad refrain,
And, spite of old sorrow and older sinning,
And puzzles forecasted and possible pain,
Take heart with the day, and begin again.


Susan Coolidge (extract from 'New every morning')




https://www.scottishpoetrylibrary.org.uk/poem/new-every-morning/

Sunday 24 January 2021


The sky
The air
My breath, high
Blow Yours there

Here, I hear
The north wind
You're near



 

Sunday 17 January 2021

 Deep

I am what I am not

In this density

Thick, deep, I forgot

The immensity, the intensity

In her eyes


Beyond the skies and the land

Beside the mundane, the daily tasks

The imprint of her gemtle hand

I carry on my coffee flasks


Empty 

Space, inside and outside

Resonance of her laughter I hear

My heart smiling inside

Bitter sweet she is far and near


Deep 

silently I weep