Posts tagged love

The Earth is Shaking

The earthquake in Nepal has devastated a part of the world that is close to my heart.  There are so many tragedies unfolding across the earth, it is easy to feel distant and detached.  But there is also so much to be hopeful and proud of, the way we react to difficulties, the way we come together.  I have heard of so many moving stories of kindness and compassion, bravery and beautiful humanity.  This poem was written for the people of Nepal and all beings suffering at this present time:

It started with a tremble, the earth is cracking!

Shaking,

 

Hell is risen, hope lies buried

And we are falling and weeping.

 

There seems no end to pain and night,

We are cold here, left out in the rain.

 

We pray in tears for relief but find only disillusion

And grief, our candles flicker without belief.

 

Death is all around, suffering is deeply woven

Into this human tale.

 

No pure water flows, our homes are rubble,

Raised to the ground.

 

There remains a light for us to share, the light

Of love and togetherness, of union beyond fear.

 

May we do our best, to kindle only love and

Deeper compassion for our fellow beings;

Do little things, for a greater good.

 

Find live information on the Red Cross and the FPMT websites.

 

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Believe in your own heart – Gautama Buddha

Do not believe anything
because it is said by an authority,
or if it is said to come from angels,
or from gods,
or from an inspired source.

Believe it only if you have explored it
in your own heart
and mind and body
and found it to be true.

Work out your own path,
through diligence.

~ Gautama Buddha

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Moss Banks and Fading Heather

Summers Coming!

Summers Coming!

This poem is a gift to all those still living through winter, summer is ever on the way!x

The steaming moss banks and fading heather,
The land gently sloping away;
The call of sky larks hung in morning splendour
Breaking through the new day haze.

The lightening greens of summer promise,
The aching wait for the first fair day;
The coming of the heat wave and ice creams,
The loosening of our island ways.

The startled sheep as trains pass by,
Smoke clouds cloak holiday makers and sighs,
The people clutching hold of valleys,
Carving paradise into the hills.

The quietening of the countryside,
The wind is seldom raised to a breeze;
The snoozing in meadows and riverbanks,
The laughter over a picnic tea.

The dark water marks of winter recede,
The light comes pouring through;
Stride emboldened over dip and dale,
Deep in forests along new found trails.

There is a palpable ease
When the trees sway listless under brightened leaves;
There is a sense of inner peace
When the sun kisses our milky skins.

There is a rising of our dreams
As we are ironing this crease,
Where nature is a friend not foe
And each life a legend to behold.

May we harvest the essence of these times,
Store its energy as precious seeds inside;
Mark this very day as the tidal reverse,
A chorus springing straight from the heart.

We are arm in arm enraptured
By these early summer chapters,
Devoid of precious, sullied fears,
At this blessed time of year.

P1070363

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Live It

Live it loud,
Live it free,
Live it opposed to the powers that be…….

Live it in love,
Live it in sorrow,
Live it because there is no tomorrow……..

Live it in words,
Live it in song,
Live it your way, but not for long…….

Live it to enjoy,
Live it with style,
Live it with passion and well worn smiles………

Live it alone,
Live it in groups,
Live it embraced in the quest for truth………

Live it to dream,
Live it to dance,
Live it like this is your very first chance……

Live it resist,
Live it relax,
Live it in moments not tied to the past………….

Live it in celebration,
Live it in doubt,
Live it still curious, open and proud………

Live it, live it, live it………

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All Tomorrow’s Parties

I
Give me a thick coat to keep out the howling winds;
From those eyes, blood drained hate, mortal rust never
Sleeps alone.

Melancholia knew a boy blindsided,
I’d never seen the needle of death coming,
Skipped misery as a flaw.

How strange that happy words won’t turn the
Dissolving soul.

Young dreams now darker in the corner, bodies revolving
Towards the earth and heavens.

II
The way I remember your bed, may it never change.
In that morning light when I was not grey or tinned.
Potential, in skins; in the darkest blue of night
(the ecstatic fizz)
I still find you shining and fraying, twisted at the summit,
Drowned in concoctions of beauty and sacral liquid.

Step out with me on the feathered roads,
Spreading like nerves endings into the flesh of continents,
Where the winds map our backs and whip our necks into shape;
Dancing hair and minds invoke true love games tied in writhing knots.

Weave blankets over sinning dark rivers of doubt that flush the belly
Of freedom and potential; a familiar seasick feeling en masse.
Driftwood, our damned and splintered edges,
Finds soft lake lands beneath zero, shores of smoothed vermillion stones,
Wear this weariness like fur, easing away to hibernation.

The open road is no place for a closed book.

III
How long has this ghost lived here?
The heroes overseas with their own abstract endings to burden,
Hang on the free-winged as the horizon erupts like angry volcanoes.
The road is dug shallow, we reach for real but feelings soon fade
And muddy.

Excuses for religions blot ages and revolutions topple paper idols
Whilst the culprits lie low with serpentine illness;
Smoking balls of wool, laps lined with golden tweed
And seditious cocktails of hatred.

Never found a hometown, never settle down,
Never laid down rocks or rules, never cared for those odds;

The silhouetted condor picks at stars, tears through constellations,
Across the railroad track and I’m one way headed, no back ward steps.

Toothpicks and broken glass by the lazy stones not expecting
To find a penny in the mire or hands to hold.

IV
Back in our bed, I lay with your wholeness, wrapped up against icy climes;
36 and still young, just tender. Dreaming up names on the crumbling walls
Where rats raid our sleep.

Still nothing done, no words remain, no meaning-less
Than before, no scam that elegant, no ruse unique.
Alcohol still makes me burn and ruminate.

I hear the rain lashing down, renewing Turkish soil and the roses of the garden,
Tearing the dead leaves from the gutters, falling on the wolves of the forest,
Etching natural mandalas across the wilderness plains.

Show it to me again in dawn’s first blush, perfection breaks the hallowed canopies
Of the smoking village elders.

V
Maybe I’ll start wearing hats, take a vow of some sort;
Turn the grist in the internal grind, draw the white line engrained
Too far in timelessness;
Trace these migratory routes over rolls of red tape and wire fences,
To surely witness the making of an angel without crimson needles,
Dripping mania.

You can’t read about Picasso, take one snowflake at a time.

VI
When it’s your time you won’t feel the pain and your father will fall
Silently on one knee. Freedom falls beyond deaths shadows,
Where young hearts forever roam imperious.

Old sun, richer; sweet morning quality of being,
I’m drifting still in melted mind puddle.
No thoughts in my cave, buried alive by mundanity,
This material mutiny must be crushed.

Pictures behind closed eyes tell me more,
First real talk with my inner child, first time I loved there.
There’s fighting to be done, a war at our door,
No peace to be found until the last doubt fades
And the oak groves reclaim this island paradise;

A green revival trickles steady, drawn from the truth seams,
Scrawled jagged, ancestral, blackened minerals of fossilised wisdom.

For upstairs, wild mountain; in all tomorrows parties freedom comes,
In perfumed silence over purple heather clutches,
No one can live right steeped in senses.

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Caught in Bliss

Old Town Bikaner, Rajasthan - January '15

Old Town Bikaner, Rajasthan, India – January ’15

The layout of my life seems creased,

When the universe breathes

I release.

The twisting rhyme and song of the

Wandering Celtic minstrel

Is what loosens my ties and leads me

Deeper.

The look in the eye of the lonely desert guru

Leaves me captivated and bereft of reasons to ignore

The call

And shirk my weary self.

The battle lines are drawn in sand caught up

In a peace profound

And falling face down into bliss seems the only way

To land.

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Should I Fall For You?

Should I fall for you?
When all we share is heartbeats.
Shall I speak your name?
I’m all caught up in words.

Where are you in the night?
When the spirits tap my soul.
Where are you in the night?
When I fall into my wounds.

My mind, it rattles like a train;
Are you there at all?

Things are not infinite on this day of days,
The colours are draining out of love.

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