Category: poem

peasblossom redux

peasblossom
audio of text

I came across some peasblossom at the end of my run today… it nearly made me cry… not for any murky sorrows, tho they are forever lurking, but just because it was so gorgeous and enchanting
a vibrant pink magenta in colour, like some Thai Airways orchid… hothouse spoilt… preposterous
an escaped cultivar? slumming it amongst the ruffians of ragwort and briar
petals peeking out here, then THERE, far flung further along… betwixt and between the tendrils submarine submerged somewhere beneath the host bush
louche and sprawled throughout the hedgerow, the flowers, like some 1920’s flapper, partied out, collapsed, draped elegantly across a chaise lounge

when we were young my older sister was peasblossom, one of the fairies in midsummers night dream
she had this beautiful, frivolous, lace and tulle pink garment, topped off with a purple pixie cap
i vaguely recall the performance, outdoors, it went on forever, so it seemed to the 5 year old me, i was sitting under a chair…
late late late, yet still light in the sky, so must indeed have been midsummers eve
solstice the endless languish of light
the costume was a staple of the dressing up box throughout my childhood,
that and dads old biggles-esque leather flying helmet, that he, in turn, had worn as a child, the smell rich, leathery, beautiful
oh and a long blonde wig, which dad had foolishly bought for mum, she always had dark short hair, instantly BANISHED to the dressing up box… whatever her opinion of the wig, the four of us all loved it
a box of possibilities?

oh peasblossom unkempt amongst the hedgerow
as we pass through the world, world is straggle pulled through us

away across the field, a swag uddered cow yet to be milked
the gut clutch of being, churn
the raft of thoughts, ego clod hopper lurches across

yet beyond this, all is golden, in its majesty, brimful, somehow swollen
life is imbued by the gentle quality of our cherishing
steady… with poise… toes uncurled, dear Hobbit, bask in this, the endless, endless torrent of presence

……………..

this the bliss, the blossoming of our perpetual becoming

Jog on
Jaw first.. tilted, forward to the future

70’s a few years later

oak

audio of text

There are few things more glorious than the feeling of being in an oak wood on the cusp of it coming into leaf.
these trees have belonged in my meditations most mornings recently
Oak, old dodderer, lop-limbed, engrained in gnarl, but now the moment of unfurling of fresh leaf flourish
almost ripped asunder by this wyrd meld… ancient, yet erupting in buoyant exuberance… soul alchemy
aw i’ve missed the oak groves of surrrey (ha, people mbe not so much), round here what trees there are, tend to be beeches, at home on the chalk uplands
frugal fagus, a delight in their own right, yet not much grows beneath the dark shaded canopy of a cathedral of beeches
oaks tend to be more generous, sprawling haphazard euphorias of life!
ashtead common is dotted with old old oaks, most of them are ooh 400 years, for the first few centuries they were pollarded (top branches lopped off) so grew portly stout, then immense
since then, with peaceful neglect, huge limbs have grown up… occasionally these collapse from their own preposterous weight, but the oak, harrumphs, just gets on with it, genteel, beautiful dereliction
others, half burnt, in a fire, throw jagged nightmare scare shapes
a mix of woodland and also more open bracken savanna, guess the ruminants keep the young trees in check? pleasantly mixed and diverse
I suprised a Red Deer in a woodland copse, up close, a substantial beast, it startled, rose from its haunches, then, bounding over branches, gallumphed away… proper medieval! tantaloo! soho!
tho not sure in truth which of us was the more suprised?
a strong, benign, warm gold, masculine energy… the deep grooved bark of quercus, bewhiskered oaks, trees which rumble with thunder (oaks are the species most likely struck by lightning)
aw the colours of the new leaves, vibrant lime, yet tinged with oak apple brown, tannin, there to be seen, a unique harmonious blend of hues
ha, enough of my half ruminated on woodland idyll!
[traditional] our lady of the wood, the goddess, she glides, forever out of reach, assembled, in the soul, from this collage of fleeting sensation… a feeling, soft feathered touch, a glimpse of hair, green mantle glides past, wood anemones flower beneath her feet. blessings

kisses

audio of text

tree of stars, tree of kisses, woven from bird song and delight
the humble blackthorn, its majestic explosion, through blossom, into glory
prunus, yes, hmm prunus what? latin genus neglected, for me it shall be: prunus flagrante!
five petalled, eternal symbol of venus aphrodite
the waft of almond and cyanide, underscored by the aroma of Ransoms from the island… fetid, fruity
a dangle-age of catkins, the riverbank is home to alder, hazel, willow
alders still stuck over with last years cones, chameleon prismatic tree, observed from most directions, it is sparrow brown, cheerful, yet something of the dowd
yet, walk close spun around, suddenly it catches the light – pouts purple… a soul which blinks indigo
by the river all is the fresh foam, bubbles, the drift of maya
hazel, quicksilver skittish, ever bright shining
whilst willow, the first in the race to leaf, grass snake medusa green
yes, but poke a willow wand somewhere in the earth, it will leap to leaf, such the regenerative potency
spring is a current, flowing, flowing through the land
and i? why, whilst washing up, mired in thought, my litany of sorrows, the ledgers of resentment, strictly tallied
and yet my body, a swift jitterbug staccato, gyrate, pirouette then body pop!… caught up by cadence and foible… the river of spring flows even here
if you could know music, you would whistle an unheralded tune…
but i glory more in dance … 3 times, i repeat the physical refrain… a spell in sinew, a postulation… this, the importance of acting out
a half smile, my mind dwells momentarily on it, as though following through a chess strategy ‘hoppety knight jostles reluctant bishop?’
then, well, shake it off… shake it off baby!
hunched over desk, mind quagmired in code
yet somewhere, i am walking, this pilgrim stride, onwards, onwards to avalon
brow turned upwards to the light
eyes of stars, eyes of kisses, woven from bird song and delight
it is spring

another, probably better, attempt at reading it!

moon agog!

Look Up! Moon agog!
Clouds on a journey, summoned to the horizon. grey bellied, embark serene, the merge then sunder, a promise that drift is, indeed, a direction?
jigsaw… kaleidoscope… ‘..in the sky with diamonds’
here below, wind skittish ruffles the water, flung up, a pulse that ripple reflects the shine
stubborn barnacles of the heart, that speak of truculence and reluctance, shirk then glide beneath the fathomless water, whale songs of yearning
ha! stumble tongued, enjoy a wallow in the pompous obvious, wake to morning words just that itch the scratch!
clamber up into the arms of an oak, cankour and crevice, traditionally stout, the joy and swollen presence of those which abide

a kinda prose poem i wrote then bunged on facebook… the words garnered a meagre 3 likes (low even by my standards, ha!)… but thinking it would be a good chance to practice a video…. laptop camera… then uploaded to a compression site… its not as easy as it looks! grappled with reading the words… and looking at the camera, with 2 screens… as always flow comes with practice!

and a second attempt!

equinox

audio of text

equinox blessings to one and all, balance and harmony, woken up all autumnal, victorian, celtic twilight lyrical… as you do… shapeshifter, times and loves lost… maudling enough for a wallow with yeats… excerpt from fergus and the druid

audio of poem

‘Take, if you must, this little bag of dreams;
Unloose the cord, and they will wrap you round.
Fergus. I See my life go drifting like a river
From change to change; I have been many things —
A green drop in the surge, a gleam of light
Upon a sword, a fir-tree on a hill,
An old slave grinding at a heavy quern,
A king sitting upon a chair of gold —
And all these things were wonderful and great;
But now I have grown nothing, knowing all.’