Posts tagged snowdonia

The Stone Circle

Nantlle Ridge - Snowdonia, North Wales

Nantlle Ridge – Snowdonia, North Wales

The key hangs from my neck
It swings with every step, an unborn
Fire lights my heart
That keeps the path from dark.

With great mystery about my mind
A trail of whispering seeds I find,
Only to walk on through burnt heather
That marks the struggle of mankind.

Cold winds on my cheek
Awaken, the clouds that
Play with light;
That toy with shadows
That distinguish the distant
Edges of my life.

The floating raven marks the line,
Calling to the old land below.
Behold; in every rock a face
And each stone a soul.

The soft moss underground,
Lichen hints of colours to be found,
Which cushion the sound of speaking hills,
A blanket for a burial mound.

There is a broken egg shell
By the wild flower grave
And an old man whistles in the day
For his friends now further on.

A white cottage stands out
Like a pimple on this place,
Soils humming gently
A tune
Of other times lived in grace.

I am carried by these paths,
Lines drawn
Deep in my soul
Forming patterns within shapes
That one day I may call

Settling into pristine solitude
With the scent of
Broken earth
Still lingering in my vision
Of greater hands at work.

For the veil of darkness
Falls too quickly to
A full moon that lights
One day lived without sunset.

Nantlle Ridge, Snowdonia, North Wales

Nantlle Ridge, Snowdonia, North Wales


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Fallen Arrow


A view from Nantlle Ridge, Snowdonia, Wales

As a fallen arrow I am embedded
Lacking the force to pierce the sky whole;
Plumage all frayed and plucked,
The worm tangles the mind knot.

Greatest being the obstacle of not seeing
The night in the day, universally shifting
In unimagined shapes, afraid to engage my true potential;
Ignite my power, my wick is dampened by
The steam lies in my breath, panting cold against
School windows.

Thoughts heavy like breeze-blocks, too heavy to carry around
This room, body weak to endure much more
Youth and foolishness; skeleton still
Soft at the core.
Listless mass cloaked in stardust and
The ambiguity of potential and weak ankles lifting.

Terrible blizzards; I am the veil that filters the light white,
Unlimited; I must initiate emptiness,
Progress quelled by bickering flames,
Both rise together to fork in tree houses
Counting leaves turning and summer skirts.

Twilights wine; inescapably you return to my arms,
Drink me in whole, wine runs red rum cold;
Each step taken, a contradiction comes rising.
The trees grow fiercely and I am too quickly aging,
Too fast to see them fall into dust.
The mountains mellow in the shade, the cats are sleeping
Beneath chairs and waves break freely.
There is mould in this old house,
Mould in the drawn airs.

Sitting in the throne of infinite freedom,
Speak in the chest for truth, ribs dangling wind chimes
And seams of rare minerals expose my flesh;
Look in my eyes for love and watch them dance to you.

Take skipping steps in time towards a truth sublime
By letting go of the lie,
Trusting nature sublime and the rutting deers.
Eyes open to invisible nature, to you mystical, serene
And too familiar to bare,
The shadows in life that scent my dreams
With suggestions of other;
That mimic my simplicity,
In writing these words.


Looking towards Snowdon, Nantlle Valley, Snowdonia

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Beautiful Snowdonia, Wales – Part 2

Black Pony and the Nantlle Valley

From Portmeirion Peninsula

The Snowdon Range

Billowing Clouds

In magic glade

Looking Up

A warning before Mynedd Mawr (Big Mountain)

On the Blaenau Ffestiniog Railway Steamer

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The Way of Zen

Sunset, Dinas Dinlle

You light the fire;

I’ll show you something nice –

A great ball of snow!


The long night;

The sound of the water

Says what I think.



The stars on the pond;

Again the winter shower

Ruffles the water.


How admirable,

He who thinks not, ‘Life is fleeting,’

When he sees the lightning!



The shattered mirror will reflect no more;

The fallen flower will hardly rise to the branch.



The theif

Left it behind –

The moon at the window.


The wind brings 

Fallen leaves enough

To make a fire.


Mountain on a garden

No thought, no reflection, no analysis,

No cultivation, no intention;

Let it settle itself. 

Tibetan Tilopa

Nantlle Valley, Snowdonia

‘In this moment there is nothing which comes to be.  In this moment there is nothing which ceases to be. Thus there is no birth-and-death to be brought to be brought to an end. Wherefore the absolute tranquility (of nirvana) is this present moment.  Though it is at this moment there is no limit to this moment, and herein is eternal delight.’
T’an Ching

‘If the mind is not overlaid with the wind and waves, you will always be living among blue mountains and green trees.  If your true nature has the creative force of Nature itself, wherever you may go, you will see fishes leaping and geese flying.’ 

Hung Tzu-ch’eng


From ‘The Way of Zen’ by Alan W. Watts

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Images of Snowdonia, Wales, 23rd October 2011

The first lake to Snowdon, Pen-y-pass

Newborough Beach, Angelsey

The botanical beat forest

Nanttle Lake and Valley from the Beach House Hill

The Beach House


Second lake to Snowdon and Jane

Log moss

Llanberis Lake

Sunset local beach chippy and Jane

Sunset local beach chippy and Jane

Lovers peninsula, lighthouse, Angelsey

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