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Dec 2018 · 291
Finding My Way Home
jeremy wyatt Dec 2018
Quietest in the white expanse of winter,
Waiting, watching, the landscape open to my sharp eyes.
A pin dropped in snow would make more noise
Than my perfect, crouching form.
I mark the crows as they flit across the sky,
Warm memories of summer stalking in the hedgerow.
My ears flicker to a distant voice,
As you walk up towards the farm.
I will glide over the crisp snow to rub around your legs,
You and I, both finding our way home.

Jeremy Wyatt.
This poem goes with a large acrylic painting that my Wife Lucia sold for me yesterday. Margaret, who bought it , wanted to hear the story behind the paint.
Feb 2015 · 4.3k
Roses Grow Within You
jeremy wyatt Feb 2015
Warm as soil beneath spring sun
banishing memories of januarys frost
time has not dulled your light
my skin heals
my scars soften
your flowers bloom again each spring
as nesting birds begin to sing
Roses grow within you
Birds are singing outside our windowon a beautiful morning. Nests are being repared and the plants are flexing themselves
Aug 2014 · 2.7k
43 With Your Name
jeremy wyatt Aug 2014
We drifted through the grey stones,
Looking left.
Looking right.
Always looking wrong.
43 women with your name lie here,
amongst the trim green grass and dried, bunched flowers.
43 women who share a name.....
Do you all begin to blur in memories,
as time blurs days of childhood ?
Or are you still sharp in someones mind, as you are sharp in the picture in my hand.
All those women who shared your name,
and we could find only two.
And neither of them was you.
Still looking for his Mothers resting place.
Jul 2014 · 6.4k
Flying Through Orchids
jeremy wyatt Jul 2014
Flying bloom to bloom,
but no mere dance this faultless path.
You favour puple,
so it seems.
Clover, thistle, orchid, no dream-like drift this bustling  march.
In each quick kiss no flower touched twice,
no frantic frenzy,
"keep on, keep on" your gentle buzzing seems to say.
Until, pushing through an orchids sweet embrace,
head buried in the blooms,
Your tiny heart
to beat...
Saw the wee deid bee.....but the photo is quite beautiful.
Jun 2014 · 2.1k
A Good Shower.
jeremy wyatt Jun 2014
The thing is Boy,
Yes, YES! I did need a shower this morning, and ****** lovely it was.
Aye cracking........
Let me tell you three things I got just right with my shower this morning.
First of it was HOT.
Not warm, definitely not lukers, as you said when you where a lad, but ****** lovely and hot.
Like the shower after a shift in The Pit.
Now, notice the capitals there, on The Pit.
Not to make it a loud word, I am simply showing due respect to The Pit.
I spent enough years down that colliery to show it that due respect.
The Pit indeed.

Secondly, there was enough water.
In my shower, not the mine now, pay attention!
It can be hard for folk to hang on to my words, I digress so much, hanging on to my words is like trying to grab a slimy mackerel on a sunny day at Porthcawl Pier.
Now that is a ditry pier, due to littering.
And fishing.
Speaking as a fisherman, with you will notice, a  SMALL f, as I do not profess a great degree of skill in that area, but speaking as a fisherman, I will admit that there is an occasional tendency towards the dropping of litter.
On the pier, that is.
Quite likely elsewhere as well, but then I only fish the pier, see.

Anyway, yes, water.
Enough of it.
Not a ****** half-hearted trickle, an apologetic drip, but a deluge!
Fair flooded me out, it did.
****** marvellous.

Now, there was a third good thing.....
Ahh. THAT was it..
Someone to scrub my back.
Very important indeed.
You see, in The Pit, or at least, in the colliery shower, after a shift, we had good showers.
Hot, they were. Hot and wet, and we would stand there, warming ourselves under the water.
By Christ, my arms were sore after a day on my side with a pick.
And the soap was hard too, like a ruddy brick.
But the water helped see, took the pain away, it did.
Aye, and all the Boys, we would wash each others backs.
That was the way then.
In the showers.
I new my mate's backs better than my missus'
Thirty years scrubbing them.
"Whiter than white" I would say.
When they asked me.
"How is my back Bryn?"
"Whiter than white".
Good days.

Now this shower.
A ****** good one too, It was today.
The Girl who comes in got it just right.
Halfway between five and five and a quarter.
Bang on.
And she washed my back.
Not as hard as the boys would have done,
but good enough for a youngster.
Not bad at all.

All in all, a good shower.
And that means a good day.
I can wheel my chair to look out the front later.

You'll pardon me for going now,
but I have to go to the bathroom see.
A big ****** task for me now.
Still, no-one in till teatime, and I can manage,
if I take it slow.

And thursday I get another shower.
And I will tell you about the days in The Pit again.
Meant to be read in a Welsh accent.
As in Pontrhydyfen.
Not like Richard Burton, who was from Pontrhydyfen, but in the accent the rest of the folk speak.
****** lovely it is too.
Apr 2014 · 700
Hell in The Belly of a Flea
jeremy wyatt Apr 2014
You carried me,
fed me,
but no debt I owe.
Centuries cradled,
King of your dank filth, bearing upon me the power to change a world.
And then came the day I raised my eyes to see your nations quail amidst the ruin of your flesh.
Perhaps one day again I'll bring to thee
Hell carried long in the belly of a flea...
As told to me by a wee rat
Feb 2014 · 2.2k
Osprey Flight
jeremy wyatt Feb 2014
Old stones weep in the rain
their darkling gaze unblinking
Glowering with ancient pain
of distant glories thinking

Preening Lords arrogant in imagined might
would quail could they perceive
The majesty of osprey flight
True rulers still of Threave
Written two years ago after a dreamy day at Threave Castle viewing a Welsh osprey who moved to Scotland (via Africa)
Feb 2014 · 1.7k
The Wrath of Amaryllis
jeremy wyatt Feb 2014
Fierce falls the rain
Summer's spite.
Beats down my wheat
and steals the light.
Like the raging wind
which bends and breaks the tree
The wrath of Amaryllis is to me.
Feb 2014 · 877
Torments of the North
jeremy wyatt Feb 2014
Of all the torments of the north
I hold the wind most grim
Scything the very hope from my heart
tears of ice thrown raging back
to scour my soul
folorn curses fail and falter
till mute I quail before its barren ire
eye imploring mercy
from uncaring natures might
are blinded by its savagery
As it tears away my sight
Of all the torments of the North
I hold the wind most grim
Feb 2014 · 648
The Town
jeremy wyatt Feb 2014
What can I show you in this town..
The drear of horizons blocked,
tired light slumping over callous concrete cubes.
The background smell of estuary mud,
God forbid we scratch the surface, let the stench out.
Broken men in stained trousers walk their dogs
House, shop, cigarettes, cider.
Wind , trying to carry the scent of green, merely stirs the dead hopes that writhe drily in the gutter, earthworms caught in the sun .
Women sit, brightness long faded, waiting for daylight to cough its way through misery stained-glass.
Cathedrals of emptiness echo hollow, as the wait for nothing to happen drags by.
Not about This Town but about That Town....
Aug 2013 · 1.6k
Beauty of the Morning
jeremy wyatt Aug 2013
She wears the beauty of the morning
like a meadow gently dew-clad
sighs of springs fair breeze
play against my cheek
as we walk through chalk-rooted meadows
She hugs the stones
like a child holds her mother
then departs their grasp smiling eyed
Weaving around stones
Weaving between worlds
We are two strands of this ancient thread
sewing and binding us together through timeless ages
life and love
land and lore
And when we pass beyond these sacred days
the blooms that climb anew each spring
Will carry in their scented flower
the memory of we lover's power
Jul 2013 · 807
The Clouds are Mine
jeremy wyatt Jul 2013
Build your nests of red bricks and stone
Dig your holes and bend the world to your will
The wind carries the scent of your folly to me

I may choose to dwell amongst the untrodden ways
or perch upon your spired vanity
but cherish not with pride the beloved ways of man
for what you make or take richens my domain

You may abide my enemies
but my triumph is centuries long
I have danced in the clouds with the souls of dead poets
and marked the long leagues
from the mountains to the sea

The skies are mine
My joy you never see
Tied to the earth
Forever burdened be
Jul 2013 · 1.4k
Eluned Cyfeiliog
jeremy wyatt Jul 2013
I am Miss Eluned Cyfeiliog the Warm
lonely in my life
my blue eyes look for distant mountains
where no choirs or trumpets sound
In Llwnypia I am oppressed by grief
At Mynnydd Du melancholy stalks me
I sought the bishops and the holy men
but winter is cold and the ocean grey
I loved the forests quiet glades
Pity the maiden who lingers in such courts
Jul 2013 · 808
Towton Tall
jeremy wyatt Jul 2013
Towton Tall

A blanket is my castle this night
clay smear walls
Tears freeze my face to my arm
I crave a wound
to feel hot blood's warming flow
Deer nest in the deep ferns
curling tight and still
but this dawn death coils
around each snow-scrape

Light comes
Skies sicken

Those who live
Awake and rouse
Today snow will blanket the Rose
As we stand Towton Tall
jeremy wyatt Jun 2013
Aye that's what I'd say
eclipses are good for sunstroke
"Do you write left aligned?"
Me........ A **** socialist?
And here I am again
Crawling back to my poetry
Like a dog crawls back to lick it's own *****
That was written 1400 years ago
Thanks Gregory
If You Don't Know me By Now
Banging out from my hi-fi
while she quietly snores
And dribbles on my shoulder
If I shut my eyes
there is still a white square
No matter how hard I try
There will always be
One more white square
Jun 2013 · 609
Gap in the Clouds
jeremy wyatt Jun 2013
I know the tiresome emptiness off loss
Whispered prayers wind around me
tight as a linen sheet
I would rather hear the gale raging through the oak
than hear such words
I farm a gap in the clouds
My own father would make fierce account
of how my dreams aged him before his time
though the rocks whisper he was ruined
by long harsh years behind the plough
My mother dreamed winds from temperate lands
might blow across his brow
but rain and stone and sickly beasts filled his mind
Drab were the mourners in Horeb
who saw him fade into the earth
The only light was in the eyes
of those he will curse no more
Jun 2013 · 383
What Flies To Grey
jeremy wyatt Jun 2013
My joy is worn thin as are my fine clothes
I still recall their colour
like the scent of sweet days
A dove might fly to a white house
but what flies to grey and grim
Forgive me if too long I lingered
where the swan glides and poets dream
I would awake and seek a weaver of cloth and words
and the house that remembers warm and kind
but the stones and walls
were broken in the clamours of the earth
and the loom lies stilled
Jun 2013 · 458
What Flies To Grey
jeremy wyatt Jun 2013
My joy is worn thin as are my fine clothes
I still recall their colour
like the scent of sweet days
A dove might fly to a white house
but what flies to grey and grim
Forgive me if too long I lingered
where the swan glides and poets dream
I would awake and seek a weaver of cloth and words
and the house that remembers warm and kind
but the stones and walls
were broken in the clamours of the earth
and the loom lies stilled
Jun 2013 · 396
What Flies To Grey
jeremy wyatt Jun 2013
My joy is worn thin as are my fine clothes
I still recall their colour
like the scent of sweet days
A dove might fly to a white house
but what flies to grey and grim
Forgive me if too long I lingered
where the swan glides and poets dream
I would awake and seek a weaver of cloth and words
and the house that remembers warm and kind
but the stones and walls
were broken in the clamours of the earth
and the loom lies stilled
Jun 2013 · 471
What Flies To Grey
jeremy wyatt Jun 2013
My joy is worn thin as are my fine clothes
I still recall their colour
like the scent of sweet days
A dove might fly to a white house
but what flies to grey and grim
Forgive me if too long I lingered
where the swan glides and poets dream
I would awake and seek a weaver of cloth and words
and the house that remembers warm and kind
but the stones and walls
were broken in the clamours of the earth
and the loom lies stilled
Jun 2013 · 593
Yesterday The Sun Shone
jeremy wyatt Jun 2013
Yesterday the sun shone
I saw shadows on my wall
They opened the blinds for a little while
and took away my shawl
The window was opened just a crack
to let some fresh air in
but the smokers gather around the back
so fresh air cannot win
I dream of gardens warm and sweet
of glowing summer sky
but yesterday the sun shone
and still it passed me by
Jan 2013 · 484
Crow's Wisdom
jeremy wyatt Jan 2013
The sun and moon rise together
The morning's herald crows and claps his wings
He would have you know
that goats climb the cliffs of rock and promontories
even when they are as wet as fresh dug graves
He would tell you that the weak and worn of heart
Cannot abide long the ire of north-winds
And blow like leaves before her wreak
Nov 2012 · 618
jeremy wyatt Nov 2012
Dark grey
sea-smoothed relic
of an ancient summer's day
two children ran together
while you walked side by side
watching as they played
amongst birch and marsh
two more tides
and you will fade into silt
but I saw your footprints
and I saw you
Written about visiting the very early footprints that uncover on the foreshore, east of Newport in Wales, towards the Severn Crossings.  Palaeolithic, and tantalisingly ephemeral.
Nov 2012 · 1.6k
Beggars Well
jeremy wyatt Nov 2012
There is damp in the earth of Beggars Well
cool soil marks your passing
smiling oaks ease their feet
fences are folly where butterflies glide
Jun 2012 · 774
Heart of the Land
jeremy wyatt Jun 2012
Beating steady beating fast
ancient rhythym of Albion's Green
dweller in earth and lair and field
lying close in grey and green
Your tunnels are like winding veins
that thread this land and never rest
eternal footsteps mark your path
wrought deeply into Gaia's breast
Jun 2012 · 696
Red Ghost
jeremy wyatt Jun 2012
Glancing spirit red-ghost wraith
passing like a feather
carried silent on starlight
jewel-eyed mistress
fears no Hunter's Moon
Jun 2012 · 766
Watching Fox
jeremy wyatt Jun 2012
I was here amongst the birches
when the forest first grew tall
A witness to your coming
I heard your first loud call
I sat and watched you hunting
from the tall grass in the mire
then silently I fed my cubs
from the ashes of your fire
You can hunt and shoot and trap me
You will never break my will
And when the last Man fades away
I'll sit here watching still
Jun 2012 · 2.1k
Monmouth Raven
jeremy wyatt Jun 2012
I went down to Monmouth fair
a sword and pistol to buy there
I thought to go a'soldiering
for the gold and glory it would bring

I saw a Maiden dark and sweet
a Raven played around her feet
a gleaming pistol she did hold
of fine rosewood and chased with gold

"Wear this pistol at your side
a spirit dwells here deep inside
half your silver this will buy
it's bark will be your battle-cry"

I proudly set it in my belt
the comfort of it keenly felt
then set to search for a sharp blade
then I espied the Raven and the Maid

A yard of steel was in her hands
ancient and blue from spirit-lands
graven runes were on the side
and I sang fell songs as I swung it wide

Alone now silver spent at last
I headed homeward tired and fast
but standing there amongst a crowd
the Maiden crying out aloud

"Who will save my Raven fair
and set him free into the air
these men have taken him to ****
they torture him my heart is chilled"

A group of drunken soldier's swayed
and with the girl's dear pet they played
their evil mouths called curses dire
as they pushed the bird towards the fire

"What cost it's life?" I called out loud
those preening King's-Men vain and proud
"A bag of silver" they replied
"Or those fine weaons at your side"

Moved by pity for the crying child
the captured bird that should fly wild
I gave the weapons with a curse
though they cost me deeply in the purse

The bird we tended all the night
come day it was returned to flight
it gazed deeply into my eyes
then soared up strong to freedom skies

So to the battles I did go
my heart for glory all aglow
but all that I did learn from war
a soldier's life is cheap and poor

Twenty years of war and strife
I lie here clinging to my life
a sword cut deep  into my chest
a great bird lights upon my breast

A raven old still strong and ****
gazing at my wounds so raw
recognition in it's eyes
this King of woeful battle's skies

"I well recall your sacrifice
the pistol fair and battle knife
so now I will repay to you
My debts I pay my heart is true"

"No crow or bird will feast this day
the wolves that slink I'll drive away
To watch and guard you till you die
and see your spirit soar on high"

"And when  your body they do lay
beneath the soil of this spring day
I'll mourn forevermore the loss
and watch your grave from yew and cross"

And now that place is swathed in green
A Lady fair there can be seen
Her ancient raven  watches still
that lonely graveside on the hill.
Really this is a folk song, but would need us to trim it . Makes a nice reading poem I hope x
May 2012 · 638
jeremy wyatt May 2012
Mother rises
The world greens and grows
with her every stride
Ageless youth carves stone
with her finger tip
Cup and ring
Sit and sing
listen as her heartbeat
turns the seasons
May 2012 · 1.0k
Angel Sweet
jeremy wyatt May 2012
Angel sweet
angel bright
wrap me in
your arms tonight

a man reborn
a new life starts
your breath my soul
my beating heart
May 2012 · 741
The Boots You Wore
jeremy wyatt May 2012
They looked so tired
resigned to bearing their burden
I wore them so rarely
boxed tissue crinkle
still a new suede smell
proud to give you what the Army couldn't
9 medium
free to a lad off to a hard war
You wore them in your email
smiling stood on his shattered back
He looked like someone's Dad
blood on a kind face
blood on my old boots
Happy Christmas from Helmand Province....
Oct 2011 · 767
Gaia Rising
jeremy wyatt Oct 2011
Green carpet rises to greet her
forest floor swells sea-like
a  wake of new growth marks her track
flowered footprints dance spring through the meadows
Gaia rising shapes all things
Oct 2011 · 882
Drying your hair
jeremy wyatt Oct 2011
Drying your hair
next to me
all the glory I need to see
blue wrapped angel
warm and safe
you make our home
a blessed place
Oct 2011 · 761
She lies suspicious
jeremy wyatt Oct 2011
She lies still her eyes so black
confusion whispers under her breath
she is trying to will the cobwebs away
while memories blister dry and fade

"Are you my husband?" for the third time this shift
breathing quietly I stand and speak
tell he is long dead and gone
honesty counts when all is said and done

Will she cry out loud this time and yell
an angry shout for the truth I tell
she ponders with a relieved smile
"I'm glad" she says "the ******* gave me fifty years of hell"
Oct 2011 · 1.2k
New Rose
jeremy wyatt Oct 2011
New rose
new road
no time to think
just stride ahead
and wonder
at the chance
we took
all from one look
april showers
feed april flowers
Jul 2011 · 1.5k
I'll Carry You No More
jeremy wyatt Jul 2011

Now the rain hammered down And the waters did rise

And the drunk at the Inn Looked his wife in the eyes

Then he looked at his boots Of soft leather so new

and he saw her strong back Then he chose what to do

"The river is deep and it's running in spate

I'll not get a dousing and I'll not be late

So you'll take me across woman just you alone

Or by God you will suffer when we both get home"

You're a cold-hearted ******* without any charm

You've broken my heart like you once broke my arm

But I'll carry you out through the deep and the flood

Thought the water is almost as cold as your blood

So they walked to the banks of the river so fast

And he clung to her shoulders a man foul and vast

She strode forward with dignity into the flow

Stopped sharp took a breath singing as she let go

"You're cold-hearted ******* your drunk breath on my neck

You've beaten me down to grey broken wreck

Now I'm stood in the river and I need a rest

So I'll stand here a while with both feet on your chest"

So he struggled a little and then he was still

While she sang with new freedom enjoying the thrill

She knows if the magistrate says she must swing

She will still feel the freedom and still she will sing

"You're a cold -hearted ******* without any charm

but I'll wear a smile now I've done you such harm

now you're dead in the river amongst the dark stones

and the trout and the weeds dance amongst your cold bones"
Jul 2011 · 493
Away from you
jeremy wyatt Jul 2011
Away from you
my life is hard
I'm not complete
a broken shard
begruding time
it passes slow
you're the place
I yearn to go
when your feet
sound on the stair
I feel your warmth
I smell your hair
then I know
for that short time
I'm here with you
and life is fine
Jul 2011 · 834
Flower of Summer
jeremy wyatt Jul 2011
A flower of summer
Plucked and held in the hand
Is soon lost as a footprint
Washes out of the sand
Jul 2011 · 1.7k
Weave Me
jeremy wyatt Jul 2011
Will you weave me a basket of willow she asked
Or one made with Hazel so strong, firm and fast
Would you make it with love and with skill and with care
Would you weave a strong basket for your lady fair

I will weave you a basket of willow she smiled
And another of hazel from great forests wild
I will weave them with love and I'll weave them with care
As I weave I will dream I weave gold in your hair

Will you help me to fill them she asked smiling back
And then carry them for me on the homeward track
Yes I'll fill them with fruit and I'll fill them with love
From the field and the garden and trees up above

I will carry your baskets for all I am worth
I would carry you through to the ends of the earth
I'll weave for us alone with my heart and my soul
When we're woven together then we will be whole
A song lyric G Am D C G
Jun 2011 · 609
Soft Green
jeremy wyatt Jun 2011
The soft green calls quietly
lie in me......lie with me
hear the burn sing breath and sigh
as sweet summer waters brush on by

The cold of the winter
the warm hope of May
the burn that flows steady
bringing colour to grey

So we'll lie in the grass
and we'll sleep in the ferns
and we'll join in the song
of the sweet Kennick Burn
Jun 2011 · 713
Right to Roam
jeremy wyatt Jun 2011
Catch her if you can
but do you need
to marr this beast
of grace and speed
no call to hurt or bother her
on the purple moor
left alone
the right to roam
then springtime calls her down
to run and box
and come so close
as playful as a clown
Jun 2011 · 1.5k
jeremy wyatt Jun 2011

With you I voyage into places
I never dreamed could exist
you journey through my heart and soul
healing my fears and making me whole
in ways I didn't know possible
I never realised what it was to love so deeply
so desperately and so completely
and with a depth and compassion
that is so intense that I can stand and cry
at just the thought of you and our shared love
Jun 2011 · 528
Healing and Changing
jeremy wyatt Jun 2011
I was lost and floating in despair's wind
not free like a seed
shackeled by loneliness

You felt me drifting and called me in
the freedom of your smile
the warmth of your touch
the passion of the love we share

Healing and changing

Gaia heals the land as I flower
beneath your hands

You're the Mother of the Earth
and I am your True Man
May 2011 · 629
Slipstreams of Angels
jeremy wyatt May 2011
Slipstreams of Angels

Without your smile I cannot fly
Without your touch I cannot cry
but beneath your gaze I soar with joy
and rising draughts of love draw forth
the courage now to love and rise
resplendent in the shining skies
and then together we will watch
and stretch our hands to try to touch
the passing grace we honour so
great lights that shine on hearts below
Slipstreams of angels undertake
to draw we lovers in their wake
May 2011 · 1.0k
Done and Dusted
jeremy wyatt May 2011
The elections are done and dusted
the results are all squared up
the cliched media champagne shots
while you drink from the victory cup

So a pretty good vote for the SNP
and a chance to pick a path
a referendum for Scotland's New Age
Cameron thinks you're having a laugh

But could an independent Scottish state
flourish North of the border
For Downing Street it would really grate
causing anguish and disorder

At home in the land of my fathers
our nationalism is awful
jobs for the boys expenses used to buy toys
so much ****** useless waffle

Our status there is lower than yours
oh boy it is such a pity
at least you are a country
not a poor ****** principality

So with hope for a bonny new future
your oil and renewables may help
you need political class and a boot up the ***
If you fail them the voters will yelp

So now you are into the parliament
Southern Scotland is your new domain
I am sure you won't fail to keep hot on the trail
of a future that's bright once again
A wee bit of fun for the New SNP Member for South of Scotland, I read it to her yesterday.
Apr 2011 · 1.9k
Poor Wee Hare
jeremy wyatt Apr 2011
Poor Wee Hare

Poor wee Hare at the side of the road
deid on the side wi yon dirt
ye should be lain on a bed o flooers
as ye faded so awfy hurt

A car must have hit yer  span yer roon
his lichts did blin ye gaze
ye didnae even see yon doom
cut doon frae ye free running days
Apr 2011 · 859
Spring's Dreaming Rush
jeremy wyatt Apr 2011
Spring's dreaming rush unfolds before my eyes
unlooked for light and life's hope all renewed
eager shoots that set their faces to the skies
We strive to climb that bonds may be eschewed

Walk hand-in-hand amongst the breathing green
I begin to grow anew in spring's fresh light
and if I only flourish for a while
I have had a glimpse of something true and bright
Apr 2011 · 1.2k
Nesting Time
jeremy wyatt Apr 2011
Nesting Time

Jackdaws were gathering nest sticks today
excited with beaks full then flying away
Birds  picking the lint that I took from the dryer
with every piece the excitment got higher
Oh what a beautiful and simple sight
the pleasure they take in the joy of their flight
Each of their sticks and the lint is a treasure
I hope one day I can have such simple pleasures
Mar 2011 · 654
Child on the Sand
jeremy wyatt Mar 2011
Child on the Sand

Driven before the scouring wind
feather light and bloodied feet
how can a child fly so far and fast
what dread is it she fears to meet
Soft sand of summer play
now harsh the salt stings hard
but the salt in her tears
stings harder still

Her heart hammers
like the pounding of axes
on the body of her father
her gasps like those of her mother
when they held her down
But what she fears the most
the cold stillness of them all
when she crept back
crying in the dark

No grave or burning for them
left as they died before gloating priest
painted cross on broken doors
carved crosses on dead cold flesh
nails and fingers smashed
no spells left to cast
from her mothers hand
her final effort cast protection
over her youngest child

And now she is running
with the dogs and hunters
raging up from behind
and the white surf horses  
crashing down to her side
sweeping up over the stained sand
and as they surge they listen to her voice


"Horses from the ocean
spirits of the sea
aid me in my time of need
help to keep me free
remember you my mother
all the healing from my kin
how we cared for all that breathed
the love we held within"


The hunting pack is closing now
sharp claws tearing her bloodprint steps
men and beasts as one in their desire
to rend and tear and harm
this small child of peace and care
no hurt was ever in her mind
but now she runs with hollow fear
no mother left to hold her near

From far behind a pounding roar
like the pounding of the waves
but mixed now with the stamp of hooves
that come to chase and save
Whitest horses of the Sea
flying now upon the strand
racing in a mighty line
shake the very land

For all the ancient deeds now done
from this child's  line of old
they come to show their gratitude
to ancient vows they hold
No dogs or men can face such force
flashing hooves and streaming manes
and when the herd has run it's course
there is silence once again

But as the White Herd passes on
returning to the sea
no child now runs upon the sand
just one horse racing free


A Mother waits for coming dawn
and  the white mare from the sea
she watches how it circles her
so proud and strong and free
It stands before her straining
and she strokes and wipes it down
the queen of the Ocean Horses
she needs to bear no crown

And as the daylight comes to them
the horse brings forth new life
a naked form upon the ground
she gathered up from strife
Carried  far with gentleness
to a chosen mother's care
fear and running now are done
for the child born of the mare
Mar 2011 · 1.0k
Deep in Your Eyes
jeremy wyatt Mar 2011
Deep in Your Eyes

Deep in you eyes
is the flame of the west
the strength of a woman
to pass every test
The world has grey faces
a weight on your back
but you brighten dark places
and face any attack
I can only write words
I can't turn your life round
but I see always a smile
in your face will be found
You'll conquer this world
with your love and your light
your white wings unfurled
for those with far sight
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