Saturday, 22 November 2014

Into my heart







Into my heart

this time of year slips quietly.

The silken fingers of angels

write their hymns of praise

across the morning sky.

Dark

brooding church steeples

injecting the sky into my gaze.

On God's quiet slope,

I rest ~

While

Christmas

comes


Tuesday, 11 November 2014

Softly, softly










Winter has come.

Bracing walks over the

field of hope

kicking leaves and listening to

( dare I say it )

Medieval Carols already.

Planning Christmas in my heart ~

feeling she is like a distant,

absent  mother

who has left me alone in her house

to admire her beauties.

However in the midst of this the
sharp edges of life return
making me long most days

for a quiet Cathedral at dawn
when the chapels are empty
and the chairs are bathed in morning light

and someone,

somewhere,

* long sigh *

singing

The Coventry Carol.

Come , waiting week

I softly, softly ,

turn your pages.






Sunday, 2 November 2014

Come November




Shadows live everywhere

they are the moving shapes

of you ~

of me.

They hide in drawers

and streets with no way out.

Aren't they just beautiful?

They follow us~

watching all the while

from under the beams

of all the pretty houses.

When dusk comes they are there

 they dance their shadowy dance

in the day

saying all the while

Come

November,

come





Sunday, 26 October 2014

Colour me in





Shall we colour this day

with love?

The love I felt in Church yesterday

and 

the quiet feeling of joy

when I waken

to the creaminess of these October mornings.

In my little room of thought

I travel all around the world

places I've been, 

scents that I've smelled.

What a treasure chest the mind is,

an artist's palette

painting and colouring new beauty~

every single day.

The sooty lines of the rooftops

at that time of dusk

when candles flicker 

and once again my heart fills

with gratitude to a loving God.

This endless universe of the stars

and the sky

all in my mind

colouring

colouring

colouring



* Based on Jack Kerouac's * The Lonesome Traveller *

Sunday, 19 October 2014

Star fire











Today,

yesterday,

a week that was.

Season change ~

colder nights

breath on the air

and taking out an old,

weathered copy of Wuthering Heights.

It seems right.

Long hot soaks 
in the bath.

The little luxuries of life.

Your kiss so small
and your touch so warm.

Imagined owl song ,
that  light I love
at dusk
when candles glow
in the room
and street lamps
light
with a strange, hopeful warmth.

I can smell Christmas.
The windows are filling up with sparkle.

Looking towards the sky

I reach my outstretched fingers
and hope to catch

the 

star fire.

Today,

yesterday,

before

the leaves had fallen.




Sunday, 5 October 2014

The distant sea



Lying in bed

surrounded by books

half read

and listening to

the faraway sound

of someone,

going somewhere;

on a moped.

I love that sound so much.

These last few,

lazy days

before returning to work on Monday.

Reality bites.

Someone told me yesterday

I never get a break.


This is why
I spend a lot of my time
dreaming
taking photos ~
singing songs
quietly,
in my heart.

Refusing to take off

my rose tinted glasses

I dream of waking

on  a warm sun soaked hillside

looking down

on a world

for which

I

have

no

words

and far beyond

the distant sea

shining

white


Monday, 29 September 2014

The language of this day






Too much time

on anyone's hands,

is folly.

It allows the language of this day

and waterfalls of words and thoughts

to go coursing through this head.

I'm almost looking forward to getting back to work next week.

These days are filled with anxious thoughts ,

I realise that all the events of the past months

have finally taken their toll on me.

So each day I search for the small joys,

photographs that make me smile ~

words that sink deep into my bones.

I lay out each new day like

a fresh hymn sheet,

praying that

the

right

chords

will

come