The Last One Knowing
1 January 2017
In owing
Release of the debt
Centuries
Pile old trees
The new orchards growing wild
Garden of the child
The eye sees
Beyond the regret
Unending
Unbending
Flames flickering extending
Uneven hearts fret
We walk slow
In rhythm of glow
Candles light
Ravens flight
Pathways of morrows showing
The Last One Knowing
Reading of the poem:
The Last One – Audiomachine
Of a soul to move with no tear
29-30 October 2016
In between the light and the dark
Where salt melts in the mouth of nuns
That sing to the molding of the suns
Within all creation its spark
The slaughtered trees release their bark
Fall of the mighty the weak stuns
The seeker the Truth never shuns
To wisp of stories listen, hark
Take me to a place that lives tales
Of glorious moments I hear
Of ships’ steadied flight without sails
Of blissful coming to me dear
Of crossing my heart without nails
Of a soul to move with no tear
Reading of the poem:
Rotlaust tre fell – Wardruna
Aquatic
5 September 2016
September
Month of the nine trees
Grows branches
Into skies
The Angels now hear the cries
The deafening tides
Tree trunks float
On rivers of hope
The mind copes
In sawing
The thoughts that pervade clawing
The glimmering leaves
Bark and leaf
Two to a third birth
We pluck them
From the hearth
They grow in wasteland marshes
The city harsh is
Countryside
Landscapes of the fall
Beckon slow
To soul’s call
Finest grass for the reaper
Green is the new black
Oxygen
Failing my two lungs
They gather
Communion
Of pairs they will be but one
Fate of the changeling
Uprising
In waves of morrow
Destiny
Aquatic
They move underground frantic
The stone is their tomb
Reading of the poem:
9 crimes – Damien Rice
Delicate – Damien Rice
I don’t Want to Change You – Damien Rice
The grass was greener
20 August 2016
She looked across the battered fields lying scorched by the heat around her frame in veils. From afar came its glint, shining eerily under the summer sun. So infused with more than just a hint of light she felt she should run towards it for it looked so beautifully green, it was almost lime-like in its iridescent sheen. She imagined the dewdrops painting life-like shadows alongside the blades of grass, twirling with these latter in those meadows a long-forgotten dance. She could almost sense the hum of the grasshoppers, the sound of brass invading her mind with their invitation to prance.
An arm brushing past hers tore her thoughts away from that beautiful island and its mighty sway. The field around her was buzzing in glee with grey-faced workers in neat rows of three attempting so desperately to instill some life back into the withered plants going downhill. The water ran from their giant cans dark, muddy and lifeless, not even a spark. She watched them smother rather than water the field as more sand and dirt was all the cans would yield. Here and there some poppies had survived, their wild nature breaking free revived by the view of the skies from the murky lands ties.
It was the bluebells that withered the most. Their head hung, their face downcast, they looked like this time they would never last. The secular trees of themselves a ghost looked over the horizons, a sight only they could boast and realised that perhaps this was the last year they would play host to the hundreds of bluebirds that on their branches found outpost to watch the first sunrise. Suddenly a ray split the skies and onward came rains of the most frightful might. To the field workers they were though the most beautiful sight as they gathered out of ranks not bothering how offering to the rain their weather-beaten brow as it washed away the mud. The oldest of trees came down with a thud and as the land under it drank the rain a damp and soon mossy stance took over its grounds again and again and again.
She looked across the reddened field to the brink of where her sight would yield. She looked back to the moss growing on that new land. Its glint was known to her not a new brand. Both far and near she could see it so clear.
The grass was greener.
Reading of the short story:
Green…The Colour of Evolution – Yakuro
Uprooted
14 August 2016
Cycles start
Within the days count
Sundays end
In Mondays
Twirling through Fridays tolling
To days of the King
Hidden coins
Treasure my crowning
Golden steel
Shines at heel
Drowning water ankle deep
Weaknesses we keep
Fruit of loins
Baskets plentiful
Chosen few
Green in hue
Ripened by the sun and dew
Morrows promises
They depart
Like the rolling stones
Downhill slide
Left to glide
They carve pathways in waters
Unbridled their ride
Like the tide
Ebb and flow of Love
Wandering
Reaching back
When the storms turn skies pitch black
Sporadic in touch
We juggle
Solitary spoils
Burning coils
Uprooted
When the fires invade trees
Sudden burning frees
Reading of the poem:
Over and over – Rachel Yamagata
Be be your Love – Rachel Yamagata
You Won’t Let Me – Rachel Yamagata
Magnets of compass
11 August 2016
I’ll see you
When summer will end
In landscapes
Of the fall
Into the river that shapes
Rooted trees grow tall
Blow the horn
Water lonely graves
Pick flowers
From the sands
Rose and crystal grow in lands
Of heavenly stance
Seize the chance
The shadows advise
The sun wise
Chooses soul
Relentless of free will’s pole
Magnets of compass
Reading of the poem:
See You Again – Mychael Danna
Withered Time
22 July 2016
Hushed signals
Calling in morse code
Eyes stutter
Melodies
The bark falling off the trees
The cuts spill lather
Clouds gather
Raging thunderbolts
Pointing claws
Clenching jaws
The war is in the dark place
Between Time and Space
Bubbles lift
To lands of seizure
Electric
Eclectic
People of undercurrent
Tastes of the oceans
Kicking shins
Involuntary
Mistakes made
In maps read
The undead rebooting dead
Unearthed Hastiness
Three times three
Violins that cry
Twice the light
Covered sight
Vigil kept in the painting
Of the Queen mother
Nursey rhyme
Reinventing fields
Withered Time
Pantomime
Waking through desert landscapes
Planet of the Apes
Reading of the poem:
Signals – Dreamstate Logic & Protocat
Ad Astra (To the Stars) – Dreamstate Logic
Unknown Future – Dreamstate Logic
Down by the river
10 June 2016
Counting stones
Down by the river
Each pebble
A symbol
Of weight that creased the footstep
When feet were nimble
Walking straight
Aloft the waters
Heaven’s pull
Contrasting
Gravity everlasting
Maintaining balance
Water flows
Endless free motion
No cushion
Commotion
A state of being alive
In expectation
We bear ills
Of every nation
Our hearts fenced
Our minds tight
Shutters barely let in light
Shadows our pittance
There are trees
That grow in the air
When I look
They are there
My mind their only manure
The sky’s tears their food
The world twirls
Dark merry-go-round
Yet I dream
Yes I dream
Images that join stream
Down by the river
Reading of the poem:
Στα σύννεφα – Papercut
My Melody – Papercut
A Dream – Papercut
Paced footsteps
29 May 2016
Lonely times
Gathering instants
Cast battles
Shades of scars
Revisiting lost ventures
In twilight’s shadows
Cancer grows
Where the truth falters
Purity
Forsaken
Foundations of cells shaken
By the rampant lie
Reckoning
The past shielded fruit
Covered space
Brittle lace
Icings falling off a cake
Of mouldy sweetness
Bitter taste
Of stale emptiness
Unresolved
Surging bile
Opposites in mind beguile
The waning sweet smile
Lost a while
In the frenzied pace
Renewal
Of resolve
The tides of rebirth absolve
Every living soul
Scent of space
Time immemorial
Renewed grace
Paced footsteps
Walking down the hedged lane
The trees exhale scents
Reading of the poem:
Song of the Stars – Dead Can Dance
Like a ghost in decay
14 April 2016
Look upon horizon see the trees that will grow
Through the empty playgrounds where the voices holler
They fabricate reason for a token to show
Cinderella makes rounds for midnights to colour
The king tries for treason as the daffodils slow
Fading garland surrounds the beard like a trawler
Flowers out of season smother traces of snow
Flickering net makes grounds for souls to grow taller
You called upon me once like a ghost in decay
The moon shone through your frame like a weeping willow
Head hung facing two suns as three to music sway
For beating heart to tame shoulder to cast pillow
I offered you sun’s bunce web of golden threads’ play
You resumed aging game sliced orphan and widow
Reading of the poem:
Xibalba – Clint Mansell
Not at Home – Clint Mansell
Together we will live forever – Clint Mansell
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