Monday 30 June 2014

HELLO:


Hello wind, have you come to tell me secrets?

What about you breeze, come to whisper words of love?

Hello sun, have you come to softly kiss my cheek?

What about you moon, to show me paths yet un-walked?

Hello thunder, have you come to me with messages?

What about you lightening, have you bright lights to show?

Hello rain, have you come to refresh my tired soul?

What about you snow, have you come to mantle me in white?

Hello birds, have you come to serenade me with songs?

What about you trees, have you come to waltz me in dance?

Hello day, have you come to welcome me once again?

What about you night, have you come to take me in your arms?

 

 

HE:


He is of the Welsh Mother Dragon of Cymru,

Daubed with paint of Africa & Sephardic Jew,

He is of Alpha-male wolf from Iberian Spain,

His blood, mixed, stirred, in cauldron of vein.

 

He bears sacred sword of Excalibur´s blade,

He, going forth in life, without being afraid,

Through The Black Mountains & magical Tor,

Over Cantabrian Sierras, seeking always more.

 

Beneath many stars, old suns & ancient moons,

Where lions prowl & wolves howl mournful tunes,

He speaks in many tongues, of magnificent lands,

Holding messages from the Gods within his hands.

 

He, born on this earth, to lead & born to be free,

To sail over oceans & walk under forested trees,

Chosen to awaken men & make them all realize,

You´ll find all answers, deep in his wise old eyes.

 

Sunday 29 June 2014

DARE:


One dares to travel wide, to exquisite far lands,

To lie bedecked in diamonds, upon exotic sands,

To hunt & seek for, love of handsome rich man,

To marry & have children, it´s the normality plan,

To be richly attired & driving the executive car,

Best body, best job, perfect life, raising the bar.

 

Does one dare to travel, deep into one´s soul?

To walk unnoticed & to slip through life´s hole,

Not to dance with the devil, but to garb in robe,

To pray by candlelight, not disco beneath strobe,

To ignore debauchery within dim cloistered walls,

Who dares to walk, down God´s hallowed halls?

 

 

WHEN I GROW UP:


My dear, when I grow up, from child to maid,

I´ll be beautiful, strong & I´ll never feel afraid,

I shall woo great men & I´ll be so free & wild,

And I´ll leave behind that sweet innocent child.

 

My dear, when I grow up, from the maid to mother,

I shall love by babies, but without need to smother,

I shall be the perfect woman & the soft loving wife,

And from those I love, I shall remove all their strife.

 

My dear, when I grow old, from mother to crone,

I shall be mantled in love & will never feel alone,

I shall be the good granny; they all want me to be,

And I´ll know, that because of me, they´ll all be free.

 

My dear, when that day comes, I shall let you know,

Time has flown by so fast, upon far winds that blow,

I´ve been all those great women, so who am I today?

I´m still all those women, who have now gone away.

 

Saturday 28 June 2014

EMOTIONS:


It´s when every word is softly spoken,

Our special feelings, are then all set free,

When, with poetry, the soul has awoken,

It´s then, the reality of Eden, we may see.

 

It´s when all music, is so tenderly played,

Locked doors of souls, are opened wide,

When, with songs, all desire is weighed,

It´s then, with the Gods above, we do abide.

 

It´s when, with caresses, all love is given,

It´s then, emotionally, we become alive,

When, with lover´s breath, we are driven,

It´s then, we know what it is to survive.

 

It´s when kisses are planted on waiting lips,

Our flowering blooms & begins to grow,

When, by tracing on skin, by finger´s tips,

It´s then, we´re free, with winds to blow.

 

It´s when faith knocks, upon doors of hearts,

When suns rise in dawns & thaws cold snows,

When, with soft sighings, all hatred departs,

It´s then & only then, that we will finally know.

SHOWCASE:


Let me showcase my special love for you,

Let me stir you, into my richest cooked stew,

Mix you into cocktail nectar of heady iced drink,

So when the world knows, they´ll wonder & think.

 

Let me highlight you within fabric´s darned stitch,

In every fibre sewn, I´ll show you up beautifully rich,

And in every song I sing, you shall be the main tune,

In my picture painted, you´ll be my sun & full moon.

 

You shall be the red cherry, atop the cake that I bake,

You will be the path, upon the long road that I take,

And in every tale ink-scribed & the poem that I write,

You shall be my hero & at night, my shining bright light.

 

I shall showcase our love, for the whole world to see,

So there´ll be no doubt, that you´re made just for me,

You´ll be the headline, written on page one of my heart,

Until our death upon this earth, from our love´s very start.

 

Friday 27 June 2014

DOO-BEE-DOO-BEE-DOO:


You be doing & I do being,

You do glancing & I be seeing,

You go whizzing & I go gliding,

You think, while I´m deciding,

Doo-bee-doo-bee-doo.

 

You´re always as busy as a bee,

I´m quite happy, being left to be,

You´re ever hither-thither rushing,

I´m quietly content in silent hushing,

Doo-bee-doo-bee-doo.

 

You´re forever filling every tiny space,

While I´m deleting every sign & trace,

You are forever a do/er & I am a be/er,

Complimenting each, without any fear,

Doo-bee-doo-bee-doo.

 

 

AMBITIONS:


Ambitions big, ambitions small,

Ambitions for them, ambitions for her.

 

I have ambitions & they are big ones too,

But I know, they´d be dull ambitions to you,

They´re not of big car, nor luxurious home,

Not of holidays to Madrid, Paris or Rome,

No dancing in clubs, to loud music of bands,

No raucous strange voices, in exotic far lands.

 

I have my ambitions, but not for material things,

I want to listen to birds & spread wide my wings,

I want to watch snowdrops, behind icy glass panes,

I want to whisper with winds & dance under the rain,

I wish to smell the scent of seas & perfume of flowers,

And just sit & reminisce for seconds, minutes & hours.

 

I have my ambitions, now far too many to mention,

As ambitions go, flaunting all accepted conventions,

I wish to taste droplets of lakes, salty oceans & seas,

I want to go travelling to my soul, deep within me,

I want to play again, with the little child I once knew,

And achieving my ambitions, I shall get to know you.

 

 

 

 

Wednesday 25 June 2014

BUTTERFLIES ON HER TOES:


She paddles in cool streams,

Bare-footed in floral dreams,

Skipping through green woods,

Past old Druids in white hoods,

Echoing laughter in silken breeze,

As she sings to birds in olive trees,

The jade forest calls out her name,

And in her eyes, all beasts are tame,

Tripping over cold river´s icy stones,

She never completely feels alone,

Behind small ear, she wears a rose,

And butterflies play upon dainty toes.

 

THE CARER:


I used to be your lover; I used to be your wife,

Now I change & feed you & alleviate your strife,

I used to wear my finery & once I curled my hair,

Now I wear an overall & push you in your chair.

 

You once sung me love songs & whispered in my ear,

Now you look past me & my words you never hear,

You once stroked my breasts & looked into my eyes,

Now you don´t touch me, yet your eyes question why.

 

Now I´m just your carer, but once I was your friend,

Now I stroke your cheek, knowing you´ll not mend,

Today you do not know me, not even know my name,

I may be just your carer, but I love you just the same.

 

I vowed, “for richer or for poorer, in illness or in health,”

I´m a carer, here for love & not for any given wealth,

Lovers will always care & good friends are carers too,

So I shall stay by your side & forever, I´ll care for you.

 

OCEAN´S GARDEN:


Little pink sea salt slugs,

Small light & floating bugs,

Transparent & jellied fish,

Tentacles, splash & splish,

Wee shells, scales & shiny fins,

Thorny, smooth, satin skins,

Not just big & not just mighty,

But also tiny & drifting, flighty.

Ocean´s mine of precious metals,

Sea´s garden of coloured petals.

Tuesday 24 June 2014

NO TIME FOR LOVE:


With a baby in her belly & one on her back,

Firewood upon her head, tied up in old sack,

Bare corned feet, plodding burning hot sand,

Walking miles for water, across hard cruel land,

She has no time for love.

 

Bending, kneeling & digging, old deadened weeds,

Up, down, beneath the sun, planting dried up seeds,

Washing worn out clothe, by the stones in the river,

Protecting frightened babies, at night as they shiver,

She has no time for love.

 

Gathering roots & herbs, for medicine & scarce food,

Tending the eternal fire & ever lightening the mood,

Stirring black cauldron, for the men-folk coming home,

Never daring to ask them, from where did they all roam?

She has no time for love.

 

She´s the backbone of the continent, nation & the village,

She´s the first to fall as victim, to all abuse, rape & pillage,

She´s the fountain of all life, of the future, present & past,

Yet in the big plan of men, she´s forever considered the last,

She has no time for love.

 

She has heard of gentle caresses, the touches & the kiss,

But what she has never known, she can never really miss,

She doesn´t believe in kindly words, spoken in soft voice,

As a woman in her place, she has never heard of choice,

She has no time for love.

 

THE DREAM HUNTERS:


Remember those days, when as children, we´d play?

Under the warm sunshine or rain, outside every day,

We´d climb slippery old anthills, to be close to the sky,

Trying to catch rainbows, which were always too high.

 

And when at night, on porches, we would sit in the dark,

Hugging, we´d listen to hyenas, as they prowled & barked,

Ever hoping that shooting stars, would fall into our pockets,

And aliens would visit us, in the bright shiny green rockets.

 

We would search under bushes, for imps, fairies & elves,

Always believing in dreams & magic, but just for ourselves,

We´d go looking for dragons in brown crocodile streams,

We were two little girls then, always hunting for dreams.

 

Our dry African veldt, became the land of dreamt wishes,

Where antelopes flew, birds swam & lions became fishes,

Where the sand sung old songs of their lost oceans & seas,

Do you remember my friend, when you once played with me?

 

 

Monday 23 June 2014

BLOW MY ASHES:


My ashes you hold, between your fingers, soft shifting,

Lifting upon the breath of breezes, away & now drifting,

That is not me, I´m no longer here & I´m no longer there,

I’m no longer of flesh, of bone, of blood, of nail & long hair.

 

Please blow my ashes, upon your sweet whispers of love,

So they may float free, upon winds to blue heavens above,

Please listen to them singing, their freedom´s sweet song,

And through their soft hymns, I shall make you feel strong.

 

Blow my old ashes over hills, mountains & spring fields,

That they may settle in rich soil, for harvest´s ripe yields,

Just listen to the poetry; they wax to curling dark roots,

And know that my ashes, shall bring forth all new fruits.

 

Please blow my sweet ashes, over oceans & far distant seas,

So they may dance upon winds & waltz gently in breeze,

Listen how they’re laughing, as they fly free with the birds,

Now dry your sad tears, there is no need for more words.

 

Please blow my last ashes, towards the rivers & streams,

So when you deep slumber, you shall see me in dreams,

Now please listen to the wisdom, of my ashes on earth,

And know that ashes to ashes, always nurtures new birth.

 

DISTANCES:


The wending paths of life are paved with far distances,

Slipping through fingers of time, in memory´s instances,

Between conception & birth, when flung from life´s womb,

From the winding road of childhood, till darkness of tomb.

 

Clinging to intimacy, with heart´s desperate sad grasping,

Calling back lost closeness, with voices, sorry & grasping,

The distance between war & peace, the hate & the love,

Is closer by far, than earth from the stars, way up above.

 

The “Once Upon A Time”, of all our loved ones now gone,

Separated by night, from places where sun had once shone,

Across the distant great oceans & all the river´s dry beds,

I hear the echoing voices, of the distant & deep buried dead.

 

THE RED FEZ:


I saw him sitting in the shade under the old baobab tree. His skin shone ebony, his smile was as beautiful as the African sunshine & he wore a red fez, the type worn by men with responsible jobs.

“Good-morning Sir”, I said to him. He smiled & greeted me in turn. I then asked him, “What are you doing under the tree? I always see you here every day & every night, each time I pass this way you are sitting under this old baobab tree.”

He answered me, “Sir I am working, I am the guardian of this grand old tree & I am here to look after it.”

“Nice job you have sitting in the shade every day, but you are always here, do you never have a day off?” He smiled his wide grin & said, “Yes Sir, tomorrow is my day off.” I bid him farewell & he waved me on my way.

The next day I walked past the old baobab tree & there was the sunny gentleman, sitting under his tree with a big smile on his face. I greeted him once again, “Good-morning Sir, what a surprise, I thought I wouldn’t see you today, as you told me that today was your day off from your job of guarding the tree.”

The man laughed & said, “It is my day off & I am not working today, Can´t you see, I do not wear my red fez? I only wear my red fez when I am on duty, so today I just sit beneath my grand old tree & enjoy my day off.”

Sunday 22 June 2014

IF YOU:


If you want me, you must know every inch of my very core,

If you look at me, look into my eyes with love & so much more,

If you talk to my heart, be it in voice of poetry, & lyrical song,

If you touch me, make it with caresses of plumes, soft & long,

If you want to know me, be it in the journey through my soul.

If you want me, it must be to love me with your very whole.

 

GUARDIAN ANGEL:


She said,

“Give me your little hand & we´ll walk life´s journey together”,

Then as we left our cloud, she dropped a single white feather,

And hand in hand, down the hallway of warm & canalled birth,

We arrived together, for our adventures upon this very earth.

 

She was there,

Through playground capers of blood, scrapes & eyes teared,

Through the loves spurned & the one who became endeared,

As an innocent bride, she stood behind my virginal shoulder,

As mothers & grannies, together we were as strong as boulders.

 

She stayed,

With the passing of years, she always stayed my best friend,

Together since birth, with her, I never had to lie or pretend,

I greyed & got wrinkled, but she always just stayed the same,

She told me gently, “It´s merely your flesh that´s to blame”.

 

She said,

Then the day arrived when she said, “It’s now time to go home,

Our long journey´s now over child”, she said in the softest of tone,

“So give me your old hand now & we´ll walk this tunnel together”,

As we walked to the light, we each dropped a single white feather.

 

Saturday 21 June 2014

I DON´T TAKE NO:


Boy, I don´t take no nonsense from you,

I´ll never listen to the cussing you spew,

I´ll never take no blaspheming bold lip,

There is no way I am taking that trip,

It´s simply because I am a L-A-D-Y.

 

Boy, I don´t take no back-handed slap,

For all your errors, I´ll not take the rap,

I´ll not accept your rudely turned back,

There is no way I´m taking that track,

It´s simply because I am a D-A-M-E.

 

Boy, I don´t take your lies, & old scoring,

I´ll not accept excuses & stunned ignoring,

Your murky stare, I´ll pretend I never saw,

Frankly, your misbehavior I find quite a bore,

It´s simple because I am a W-O-M-A-N.

 

Boy, I don´t take no nonsense from you,

It´s not good for me & not good for you,

Not just because I´m a woman, lady & dame,

If that were the only reason, it´d be a shame,

It´s simply because I´m a H-U-M-A-N/B-E-I-N-G.

Thursday 19 June 2014

BENEATH THE OLD YEW TREE:


Lay me beneath that old yew tree,

The one with the heart of gold,

The one that´s close to the waving sea.

 

Lay me beneath that old yew tree,

The one who holds secrets of old,

The one who has always been there for me.

 

Lay me beneath that old yew tree,

The one with wisdom of all life untold,

The one who is home to the bat & the bee.

 

Lay me beneath that old yew tree,

The one who prays to the God of winds,

The one who kneels upon her old bark knees.

 

Lay me beneath that old yew tree,

The one with the soul of sap-filled life,

The one who´s roots will now set me free.

 

THE ELEGIST:


Tell me Elegist,

Why do you write of such mournful things?

Why do your sentiments fly on ravens wings?

Why do you peer with eyes so very doleful?

Why do you scribe of sentiments woeful?

 

Tell me Elegist,

Why is all your ink, the wept tears of the dying?

Why put your words where Ancestors are lying?

Words rooted & rotted, upon ivy-garbed stones,

Giving life to the flesh, of those buried deep bones.

 

Tell me Elegist,

Why do you scribe of dusty old loves unrequited?

Of corpses dead, doomed & by death deep pitted,

Belying Bishop´s told tales of hell, so sadly infernal,

Lifting from sadness old souls, now free & eternal.

 

Tell me Elegist,

Why wax lyrical of all that is murky dark gloom?

I write of reality beneath bright suns & old moons,

Why write of ills & of all that is merely all strife?

I write only of truth & of death, which is in fact life.

 

 

Wednesday 18 June 2014

THE HEALER AND THE HAG:


The Hag knelt before the healer, pleading his help,

He saw her sad pain & her pitiful plight, he duly felt,

And within the moonlit circle of those Ancient stones,

He whispered to his Gods & tossed his telling bones.

 

Dear old Crone, your crooked feet I may surely heal,

I can mend your knees that may hurt when you kneel,

Your back I may straighten & your eyes I´ll fix to see,

Your old hands I´ll bend to pray, just give them to me.

 

Hag, bent & old, upon cracked knees, praying & kneeling,

Begging the healer for his compassionate good healing,

The healer chanted chants, while stirring strong potions,

Bringing forth magic, in his unguents & mystical lotions.

 

Around the calling-gold-fire, of magic & licking red flames,

Evoking the Ancestors & calling out their known names,

The healer told the old Hag, “That by the sign of the runes,

 Your heart may only be healed, by the blood of old moons”.

 

THE SILVER GOWN:


Is she a fish of glittered-coined fin?

A mermaid with hair coiled in platinum pin?

Is she of waters that mirror mother moon?

No, she´s the Dame in the silver gown of June.

 

Is she a bird of silken feathered wing?

An Angel with voice of crystal as she gaily sings,

Is she of air, where the stars come out to play?

No, she´s the Dame in silver gown of milky-ways.

 

Is she a diamond of faceted brilliant light?

Gem worn around the neck of day & finger of night,

Is she jewel of the earth, from where all comes to be?

No, she´s the Dame in the silver gown, of earth, air & sea.

 

Tuesday 17 June 2014

DO YOU REMEMBER?


Do you remember when we were lovers?

And do you recall when we were friends?

When all our words were written in love,

When we sent our prayers to God above.

 

Do you recall our promises softly made?

When after love, we curled & sleepily laid,

 Secret whispers upon our delicious tongues,

Upon the midnight lyrics of songs once sung.

 

Do you remember when you called my name?

Memories drifting on mists, nothing’s the same,

We clutch at time, through fog, trying to mend,

The memories of beginnings until our very end.

Monday 16 June 2014

TOUCH MY SOUL:


Touch my fingertips, tip by soft tip,

Touch my lips, just in tiny little sips,

Touch my breast, but oh so very slow,

Touch my eyes, till my teardrops flow.

 

Touch my throat, I´ll swallow my pride,

Touch my nape, where my tresses slide,

Touch my womb, where your baby grows,

Touch my brow, where your whisper blows.

 

Touch my heart, with your gentle soft beat,

Touch my core, where we will meld & meet,

Touch my being & you will make me whole,

But touch first the place, where I keep my soul.

Sunday 15 June 2014

TELL IT TO THE WIND:


Mama listen to me, I have something to say,

Tell it to the wind my child,

I have no time to waste & now I cannot stay.

 

Papa stop awhile please & listen now to me,

Tell it to the wind my love,

I am far too busy now, so please leave me be.

 

Friend, please will you stop & listen to my tale?

Tell it to the wind my dear,

I have no need now, to listen to you weep & wail.

 

Sweetheart, will you please listen to my old story?

Tell it to the wind my darling,

I´m off now to seek my fortune & battled glories.

 

My son, would you mind listening to me awhile?

Tell it to the wind mother,

I have to go now, so bless me with your smile.

 

Dearest wind, do you happen to have some time?

Yes dear soul, you may now tell me your all,

Your stories, woes & secrets, shall also be all mine.

 

 

 

 

 

Saturday 14 June 2014

OPEN THE DOOR:


Turning the key, lifting the latch, opening the door,

Ssh, one step at a time, footsteps crossing the floor,

The cracking, the creaking, the sighing of old wood,

Door wide open, sun shining, just where she stood.

 

Breaking open the shell of her hardened sore heart,

On feeling the warmth, not knowing where to start,

But with a mere caress, a kiss & a gentle kind word,

She knows beyond closed door, her voice will be heard.

 

Unwrapping tight layers, around forgotten cold soul,

Revealing the kernel of her being & leaving her whole,

The ice-bound nub of the person she was & used to be,

Thawed by love, now melting & lets her fly away free.

 

Opening the old door, on an old life lived & now gone,

Ridding her being of darkness, where the sun once shone,

Illuminating her hard heart, soul & sad frozen cold being,

With new wings spread, her old life is now away fleeing.