Friday, 29 April 2011

Severn Way

Skylarks sing love duets
high above the grassy flood plains.

Suns heat belying early spring
tempered only by deceptive cooling wind.

Haze casts an ethereal vision
of bridges spanning the murky depths.

The constant hum of human intervention
feels locked out of this water's edge oasis.

My soul lifted in peaceful harmony
I feel me, and know this is how it should be.

(NaPoWriMo 2011)

Thursday, 28 April 2011

A Desert Rose

I yearn for understanding and yet I fear, I am further from the answers than ever before.

Was it an illusion I felt? Did the fabric deceive me?  My soul twisted and torn, left almost forlorn, all just a slight of hand.

Did I just misunderstand? when I opened the door offering trust, showing what I am. Was I measured and found lacking?

I feel the Universe is yoked in irony, is this some cruel joke? That yet again I fall on my face, tasting the dirt and blood intermingling.

As I rise from the earth once again, I wish to look in the eyes of he who judged me harshly. I want to react, but it is not in me.

All I have is my affection, the rest left dropped like shoes shed when running in the grass. I wait for the petals to wilt and fall.

But by some damnation, a divine twisted intervention, it lives still. A desert rose in the wilderness of this small moon.

You have no comprehension, understanding or suggestion. Either that, or a blackened soul of midnight coal free of obligation.

Yet still you have a diamond, stuck in the tread of your soul. It cannot be scratched by your endeavours shining still, I smile.

No dream or delusion, free from restrain of searching. Heart, body, mind and soul singing melodies, only wishing you could see.

(Picture kindly provided by Peter Wilkin with grateful thanks)

Cool Comfort gets an airing..

With grateful thanks to Peter Wilkin and Sweet Tweets.

Wednesday, 27 April 2011

Cool Comfort

Cool comfort cast by
cautious caress of the breeze.

Beauty buried beneath her
burnish bronze yet fiery eyes.

Ethereal existence endangered
when evil enterprise strikes the soul.

Shadows stalk Seraphim not
seeking shelter from deep within.

While white waves meander
wild weathered sky, I wonder why.

Monday, 25 April 2011

The Blessing

He died, just like that!  Brutal fact.

A life of action finished finally, trapped immobile, in body passed its sell by.

The timing was not his, but the setting, how he would have wished.

Not for him the rhythmical buzz of the morphine drive.

Nor the metallic taste of death, clinging to the throat, stinging the eyes.

For when the mind grows weak or cynical, weary of this world.

Death is a blessing, bestowed on us all.

(NaPoWriMo 2011)

(Oneshotwednesday 27/04/11)

Sunday, 24 April 2011

The Green Man

The Carver's hand, gnarled like the oak tree
tired with age,  his wisdom a spirit sage.

In the blue and green dappled sun shade
the carpet of his workshop, he works his age old trade.

For he must serve Jack o' the Green, time spent in careful toil,
leaves spilling southward as he speaks, fertility leaping forth.

Trees born six centuries ago still hold his signature
his face set in stone, looks out across timeless land.

After the crops are reaped and livestock safely gathered
harvest is celebrated before first frost rings the moon.

Then, and only then, he may rest his weary head
returning to his winter sleep once more.

(NaPoWriMo 2011)

(With grateful thanks for picture kindly provided by Peter Wilkin)

Friday, 22 April 2011

Wednesday, 20 April 2011

Mystic whisper

How did this begin
when did you come in
feels like forever
the story of never.
Where will it end?

I did not ask
no request made
yet you invade my being
I forgave
and still you taunt my mind.

You are nothing more
than an illusion
a mystic whisper
a shadow soul
a distance voice,
touching my inner space
with soft caress.

Not yet free
both held
within the fabric
on different paths of reality
you don't see me.

The question is

What would make you happy?
What would you like me to do?
or not do.. for you friend.
To be all I can
I need to know what is required?
So I can change this world.
I will be me, but in better form.
Can you see?
Or are you looking past
to your own reflection.
I go about it all wrong
but with the best intentions.
Help me please?
You answer is resounding
ringing in my ears,
but I cannot say it was
what I would choose to hear.

No tears

Cool breeze touches me.
I know what I must do
but oh.. so lonely!
Just the thought
makes me miss you
so bad already.
No tears for fear
has hold of them all.
Trust in truth will not let me fall.
Failure to act is to fail you
the one thing I must not do.
So I will do what must occur
no effort will be spared,
to ensure your welfare
peace of mind and
happiness yours not mine.
Then after all is done
I can curl up for a moment alone
remembering the joy you brought
and quietly wish I had not.

Tuesday, 19 April 2011

Phoenix rising

I feel the power rising from within
she is a mighty yet elegant feeling.
You caught a feather of her tail
as she was rising, she remembers you still.
But what are you to me now?
You who burned so brightly
searing a mark into souls satin
releasing a Pandora reaction.
You who are now different
and yet still unchanged.

As She flies on I look back
I see what I was
then inward at what I am.
I look forward again
to what I am to become.
Burning still I see..
will you fly with me?
For this time I cannot wait for you
for she is carrying me.

Take my hand if you wish
the choice as ever is yours dear one?
Forever is a promise I can't own
but your invitation was
signed in the cool light of day.
Trust is hard earned
but once there
will reward you with
a loyalty without measure.
Will you accept the challenge?

Sunday, 17 April 2011

Sickly Sweet

"She is perfect"
they say, exclaiming with delight.
"Just what we are looking for"
they gush, at first sight.
She is amazing"
they cry, shadows form
behind hooded eyes.
"Just one thing we need you to do"
they plead, eventually.
"You will have to change all that you are"

(NaPoWriMo 2011)

The Paladin

Thoughts swim within
the opaque waters
clustering momentarily
then drifting apart.
Contemplation of art
played back in reverse
immersion in culture
of ages who refused
to be forgotten,
give over.
The Palladian Bridge
joining separate parts
crossing the gap between us
over dark blue of deep water.
Opulence of few
retained by the mob
was this a pure creation?

(NaPoWriMo 2011)


The sharp intrusive
tang of wild garlic,
an always reminder
where I am
where I once was.
Sat miles from the place
my memories belong
transported by a fragrance
through the fabric of space and time
to the wooded edge
of a nameless field.
Part of my heart
remains there still.
That day I sat
down by her side
I kissed her goodbye,
then held her while she died.

(NaPoWriMo 2011)

(posted for Oneshotwednesday on 190411)

Ghost trees

Walking in the dark
I see the ghost trees,
we create this look
with our artificial light.
Eery whiteness looming
out of charcoal shadows,
has all the makings
of stories from days of old.

The river runs along side
this road and path
I wander tonight.
Listening to its song
walking me along
I cannot feel alone.

Saturday, 16 April 2011

Four Poems in one E-Publish today :)

With slight amazement and grateful thanks :)

Secret Island, Two fold, Stone bridge & Secret view get a mention.

Two fold

Sat up on Borrowdale
I can feel a swell of joy.
Can I catch it in a jar
to take it home as well?

To see him happy
is to feed my soul.
This gift I have given
is paying back two fold.

Stone Bridge

Journeys destination found
a jewel among a royal crown.
Mans stone bridge sits proud
above natures patchwork shroud.
Her use of water splits and divides
spreading around for far and wide
leaving spaces to show
carved rocks rising from below
touched with green and gold,
sunlit for me to behold.
Welcome to Ashness bridge
it was foretold.

Secret view

Green throne  sat above
her lake she so loved.
Gazing gently down
she nods to her kings,
they tower above her
across from the shore.
Here she reigns
with views of nature's wonder.
My existence challenged
as I sit close
to the voids edge,
eyes drawn down.

She smiles

Sitting on the rocks
she smiles.
Life unfolds
before her.

Secret Island

Waves lap against the shoreline
setting the score, for more.
Wind now a breeze
coming towards me
sat on driftwood,
viewing secret island.
Trees, lawns, hidden buildings
whose places are these.

I wish I could lend you my eyes

Like mounds of clay
with folds and creases,
some parts pointed
others rounded.
Against the clear blue sky
the purple clad mountains
are painted green and gold
as they meet the skyline.
I wish I could lend you my eyes
for you to see this vision,
this immense creation
would surely fire your imagination.

The magic

Standing below Aira Force falls
I find myself catching rainbows
the magic finds me still.

Crescendo at the last

Only the most loving heart
could contemplate such a work of art.
Crafted with such skill and care
my mind melds into my stare.
Stretched out in a winding walk,
its caress a relaxing thought.
With each set of falls
drawn further into its enthrall,
I wait expectantly
for its final ecstasy
crescendo at the last,
closing with Aira Force.


Looking upon a promised land
its composition perfected nature,
I drink deeply with my eyes
my soul relaxed, leaves a sigh.
Lit by my sun's ecstatic smile
this place now held in my mind,
added to memories choir
holding a candle
burning forever.
If I have not found heaven now,
I would not wish to be there.

Poet's seat

Again we meet
my Poet's seat
my stone cushion
a writers throne.
Aside the river
spread out wide
running shallow above
the scattered rocks.
I watch him play
wading out
half listening
for sudden shout.


The journey began
hunting for waterfalls,
though soon became
me capturing rainbows.
Painting landscapes
in my soul
a myriad of colours,
names unknown.

A revelation in finding
mirrors so large,
no blow to the heart
could ever shatter
such an art.
My love renewed,
I am so much more
than I was before.

Sorrow in a name

At Red Pit, above Brothers water
panoramic view
through mountain pass
the narrow road winds down.
No trees live here
wind scraped rock and grass
mountains outline defined
against the china blue sky.
Sorrow in a name
the brothers lost their lives,
beware the danger then
of stepping out on ice.


Rewarded for our effort
welcomed by the sun
allowed safe passage
into the higher kingdom.
The Divines, the Ancient ones
spirits of mountain climbs
Kings and Queens of rugged land
owners of the fearsome crags
open the gateway today.
for poetic heart to play.
Here I sit, atop Queen Latrigg.


Wind whistles low
in a language I don't know.
For I am just a foreigner
to this valley land.


Warmed by sun
soul revived, revitalized.
Stroked by wind
body soothed, gently.
Soundtrack of birdsong
mellowing the mind.
Sitting up high
a final goodbye
watching the fisher
king and queen.
Viewed by so many
the ospreys are kissing.

Wednesday, 13 April 2011

Beneath the fall

Beneath the fall,
a tangled pile,
of tree boughs,
caught and held,
on green boulders,
water rushes past,
leaving this till last,
it will collect in time,
when floods return, alas.

In the shade

Her name is fern
so watch her burn
in cool shades
of emerald flame.
There is no shame
no one to blame
her life is full of tears.
But these give life
to all her kind
the shade loving dwellers.

Water Music

The stream sings it song,
ever long,
it pays me no heed,
but in doing its deed,
it give me sanctuary.

The Great Wood

Walking on,
she stumbled upon,
stone steps,
of slate stone,
they lead up,
to wooden bridge,
standing high above,
rivers tumbling edge,
she found the fairy's land,
hidden high in the Great Wood.

Waiting for Spring

The wind whips through,
these wild woods, anew,
tall yet slender and slim,
the trees swing to the song,
the wood stands high on side,
the view sweeping and stunning,
the lake is dark and deep,
these trees still sleep,
waiting for spring to dawn.

Tuesday, 12 April 2011

Raging against pain

Undeserving of such contempt,
the urge to vent, overwhelming,
what have I said or done,
or was it an omission,
heartache adds to pain,

I wish I didn't care,
I wish I had a heart of stone,
so hard you could not carve your name,
even with a diamond pen,

I swear these tears,
of poison ink, will be the last,
I pray,   I think,
how to make a lie,
into reality,

What is it, you want from me,
you have all I have to give,
why then torture me,
by leaving me,
in a state, of heightened anxiety,

I confess,
I do not profess, to understand,
only know this feeling,
in my chest,
is slowly,
destroying all I ever held dear.

All the world

I look upon his face,
I find him beautiful,
so full of youth,
talent yet unsung,
he is only one,
but if he were to smile,

All the world is yours,
go forth and find it,
revel in your free spirit,
live it,
if you get time,
save a piece,
for my mind.

Softly now

I love you like the first snowflake
to kiss the frozen ground
on a moonlit winter's night
when no one is around.

I love you like the milky white magnolia bud
atop the highest branch
opening its beauty
for only the sky's eyes.

I love you like the last night star
still hanging in the inky sky.
As the sun starts to rise
I feel you in my heart.

I love you like the fleeting glimpse
of the rainbow's magic appearance
in all its glorious spectrum,
transparently for only me.

I love you like the parched earth
welcoming the summer storm.
Until you came I was sleeping,                  
now new life springs forth.

I love you like the skin soft breeze
that tickles me, whispering sweet words
inspiring me to breathe my own creativity.

I love you in the only way I know, by baring my soul.
I ask for nothing in return, for what I have is joy
to know you are happy. That is all I desire...

Moonlit folly gets picked up

Thanks to the # Poem daily :)

With grateful thanks to Peter and Riprap :)

Monday, 11 April 2011

Moonlit folly

You say to trust lust,
I say, I can never go that way,
it would have me chasing stardust,
wishing on a star, far far away,

If I allow myself,
what delicious dreams I could have,
wandering without a care,
naked in his head,

I could reel, in senses overload,
to feel his skin, hear his words,
feel his lips, drawing me in, what a sin,

To ride astride, a unicorn,
lit only by moonlight,
to hear him whisper my name,
such wicked delight,

To roll within, a passionate embrace,
face to face, like dragons locked in deathly grip,
never letting go, lest he slip away,

No, love is a hard taskmaster,
that is for sure, but lust alone,
is but a shadow, a half measure,
leading me to folly's door.

Sunday, 10 April 2011

On the Bridge

As I wander restfully
I stop on a bridge above a brook.
He is not here, the one so dear
who brings my shine.
So, may I borrow from the past
words and thoughts made to last?
Poets now long dead but
far from forgotten, celebrated for all time.
When I am dead, what will be of mine?

The Price

He smiles on her with sunshine,
he does not explain why,
he gave her such capacity,
he gives no reasons for love,
he does not apologise for,
the subsequent, tearing pain,
he feels she has still gained.

The Circle

Today I see the purple heads of divine
inhabited mountain tops sunlit in full glory,
wind chasing the white grey clouds
like sheep across the land
Surrounded by a giant ring of majestic
mountain kings, each holding its own
a wonder all alone, uncountable stories known.

As I sit quietly within another smaller ring
I do not wonder why, I just look to the sky.
A ring within a ring all magic encompassed here in.
The ancients knew these things so formed Castlerigg Circle,
sculpture still standing. I am enveloped by its aura.

Revised on 27/05/11 - included in the # Poem Daily that same day.
with grateful thanks - The # Poem Daily

A Squirrel's Tale, Atop the Rocks & Can you hear them breathe

Have all been posted in # poem daily recently. With grateful thanks :)

A Squirrel's tale

Rufus the Red and clan,
live happily in Island kingdom,
a world of woodland green,
they were always to be seen,
working way up high, in the canopy,

Then one day came an invader,
young Gerrard the Grey,
he found success was easy,
in so many ways,
his family were large and brave,
breaking all the rules,
not bothering with pine cones,
they scavenged all the day,

The Red clan in disarray,
scattered far and wide,
but such was the Grey's hunger,
no where was safe to hide,
so to the final strongholds,
the Red clan did run,
here at Dodd's wood,
the battle rages on.

Water colour

Painting the picture,
down from the top,
dove grey clouds,
bearing down softly,
on shadowy mountain tops,
black and grey give way,
to murky green and grey,
streaked with earth brown,
lower still a golden yellow,
merges with a grassy green,
patchwork quilt with redden orange,
yew tree green of standing pines,
above steel blue water,
rippled by rain,
rising up on my right,
a hillside of dead red bracken,
lit only by canary yellow,
of the sharp gorse flowers.


Into the Valley

Dropping down now,
into the bowels of the valley,
Dwarf like kingdom appears,
slate scattered everywhere,
left by Sculptor's hand,
as he dragged his fingers,
carving out this land,
rain passing like veiled curtains,
set against the towering crags,
I feel my own insignificance,
my speck like form,
upon this planet's surface.

Honister Pass

Rising up from the pass,
entering the higher plains,
land owned by the Gods,
shaped and hewn,
by wind, rain and storm,
nature clings down low,
holding fast to rock and slate.

Land of cloud and rock,
coloured green and brown,
streams cut silver paths,
escaping always down,
barren vastness, come and view,
but only mountain sheep may stay.


In awe of gravity,
sat by nature's window,
the power of water in motion,
evokes emotions mirror,
we are but visitors,
within this timeless wilderness,
specks of humanity,
crawling on the floor,
of the gods playground.

Friday, 8 April 2011


Crystal clear the water,
view sharp, unhindered,
pebbles, of all shapes and sizes,
lying side by side,
I ask myself why,
somethings, are not,
so very clear,
uneasy in mind's eye,
balance out of kilter,
I am giving more,
but I am out of favour.

April Sun

Sun sets over water,
sliding slowly behind,
purple charcoal horizon,
mountain skyline defined,

As twilight beckons,
silhouette time approaches,
love struck songbirds,
keep up their sonnets,
singing for one last chorus,

Now the air is cooling,
as night encroaches,
bringing final curtain,
on a perfect spring surprise.

Thursday, 7 April 2011

Heaven's mirror

Sat on mirror's edge,
pure calm resides,
the merest hint of ripple,
fades to clear reflection,
the sky blue dips low,
caressing mountain basin,
the framing for my mirror,
heaven shows through,
the surface of Ullswater.

Sun soaked gold

For I have seen with my own eyes,
his golden trumpets all alive,
standing on the shore,
of my looking glass water.

In the mine

Within the slate mine,
world cut from blue grey,
crafted into monolith display,
painted by relentless rain,
clouds close in, taking hold,
hugging close to mountain sides,
shadows in my eyes.

Matters of the heart

For I could not have known,
the raindrops falling down,
were God's tears of sorrow,
shed for our latest trial.

Museless mirth

I wanted to write you a poem,
not just some mere little scribble,
the poem to master all others,
that would set the page on fire,

A poem that would rip you heart out,
and leave it still beating in your mouth,
that would reduce you to tears in a second,
then have you laughing out loud the next,

A poem that would sail a thousand dreams,
then inspire your greatest achievement,
That would aid the performance of your life,
and be thought of tenderly,
in moments of worry and strife,

A poem that would seduce your senses,
setting alight your wildest fantasies,
have you begging to stop, yet yearning for more,
like making love in a thunderstorm,

A poem that, after one reading,
would leave you no doubt,
no other could satisfy your desire,
then would live in your mind forever,

But try as I might, the words won't come right,
and so I am sad to say,
I am sending you this, signed with a kiss,
from my mind to your lips.

Tuesday, 5 April 2011


Just off the winding road,
following the rough shod path,
through boulder strewn woods,
on side of mountain edge,
this world belongs, to Elven Queen,
clothed in every shade of green,
her royal moss coats everything,
Smells of damp earth, quiet yet,
a magical rumble calls me,
further into her fortress,
There lies the source,
the power of Nature's cycle,
rumble turns to deafening roar,
aside magnificent Lodore falls,
raging torrent of white and brown,
a million gallons hurtling down,
a crashing dance over boulders found,
entranced, I am held fast.

The Sculptor

With water, ice, and fire,
he draws on a scale,
we cannot imagine,
then, gently she touches all,
colouring it in,
Nature, working tirelessly,
for him, The Sculptor.

Saturday, 2 April 2011

Atop the rocks

As I sat atop, Crooks Peak rocks,
I surveyed the view across, the sunlit Somerset,
out to the east stand the Tor, the store, of Glastonbury's magic,
moving left, an almost perfect round, Axebridge's glittering blue pond,
Cheddar Gorge nestles close by, just hidden from my eye,
then to the south lies, Brent Knoll, standing alone,
a single rise, above the flattened land,
today above the river, hangs a dirty mist,
mirroring the muddy water, spread vastly out below,
As I watch, the wind is clearing, even this for me,
Sand point now showing, it snakes out westerly,
pointing the way to Wales, Just visible beneath hazy cloud,
the soft rumble of traffic, rises from the M5,
meandering beneath my gaze, it bothers me not,
for my ever companion, the wind, is lively today,
Pulling at my hair, chilling my ears, begging me to come play.

Friday, 1 April 2011

Can you hear them breathe

The spirits of the trees,
they comfort me,
providing support, for my back,
against smooth bark,
standing silently,
tall and mighty,
yet humble to the wind,
lest they fall too soon,

The sounds of the woods,
Soothe pained mind,
breeze gently rustling,
leaves on trees and ground,
an orchestra of birdsong,
greets those who listen,
the melodies sweet and high,
fill my sky for me,

I love these woods,
I know them well,
like old friends,
secrets they hold,
they have witnessed,
my fear, my tears,
my raging anger,
my ultimate bliss,
my stolen kiss,

Today I ask for nothing more,
than for solitude,
a quiet moment,
time to thaw,
to let go, yet know,
my roots are planted firm,
in my beautiful existence.