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Aug 2020 · 85
Dragging me down
Encased in iron
How will I move?
My will is held.
"Save me from this fate
You who hear and can help.
Save me from this misery of non-being,
Non contact,
Non life..."

...I walk within
To the shadow lands...
What do I find?

"Shhhh, shhh go to sleep...
We will rip out your heart
And you will feel nothing.
Like a gloved hand you will feel nothing.
Numb to existence
You will be safe!
This will be my gift to you."

"But I do not want this gift!
The price is too high
What safety is this, free from life?
I do not choose it.
Perhaps some time ago it was chosen
But now not.
I wish for life,
For feeling and emotion
For contact and depth.
Yes, it is not safe
But it is life
And I wish for it
Aug 2020 · 103
I have a new idea,
It's called...
"D O  A N Y T H I N G"
The concept is simple.
Any task is worthy.
Just do it.
Then do something else.
I will start it now....
Aug 2020 · 175
Locked in...
I'm locked in again
Not paralysed but stuck.
Not sure what to do.
Each task appears barbed
Like it will pierce my heart.
I could make a piece of jewellery
Write my story
Make an animation
Or tidy up?
Any would do...
But instead I sit here
Not sure how to proceed.
It's like the other things that I woudn't do
Stop me doing any of the other things that I could do.
D-E-C-I-D-E from the latin
To cut off!
To seperate!

Okay, jewellery it is,
I will check the van...
Jul 2020 · 176
Oblivion calls me
Beings of light how shall I make this day?
Oblivion calls me
But i do not wish for it.
Can you free me from its grasp?
What ways shall I find that will spare me from it?
What can I do to sway its force?
Can you give me a sign?
Or a means?
That I might stay whole this day...
Jul 2020 · 122
west winds
The westerly gale blows
Deep into my soul.
Lifting the slates
And rubbing the trees
Against the walls of my mind.
A seagull flies by
Against the undulating horizon,
Indelicately buffeted by the wind.
Every thing is in balance
Jul 2020 · 355
Water Dance
I dance with her,
She moves through me,
Merging in movement, in spirit,
A creative offering.
On this land sacred for the Native Americans,
I recollect old memories, nature secrets
Written on an arizona road trip
Jul 2020 · 50
Dear Soul
Wandering hither and thither,
Here and there,
What is it you seek?
What do you hope to find
Under the stones you upturn?
Have you found it yet?
Or anything that seems like it?

My question is simple....
What was it that gave you the thought
That you were looking in the right way?
In the right place?
Did you not just follow all the others
Who although not finding, were turning stones too?
I wrote this in February. February was a tough month but has led to a lot of soul  searching.
Jul 2020 · 140
The Ghost
I am a ghost
Do you see me?
I hide in the shadows
I fear you.
My essence is cold
The heart of steel.
Fear rages within me
Drawing me in with its astringent pull.
Fear is my home
I abide there
Like a shadow in the cupboard beneath the stairs
Long lost.
What hope is there
In dispair?
In the cold dead of night I wander
Feeling the kinship of the dark.
Slipping past trees and alleys I taste fragments of life,
A wrapper that once contained chocolate...
Or something sweet
They draw me to them and I inhale that which once was.
What is left for me
But the night?
I wanted to give some air to a dark mood a few days ago and wrote this...
Jul 2020 · 325
Hello my friend
I am glad you are here
We have much to discuss!
I have missed you
While you were away
It is hard to be
When the spirit is elsewhere
Jul 2020 · 302
Night Walker
I walk where I fear to tread
I bathe in the darkness
Surrender to its cold embrace
And find home in its arms

Will you follow me?
You, who lives in the sun
Who walks in joy
And relishes the dawn

We are One
Two sides of the same coin
Joined but facing away
United in experience

Bring your joy into the night
As I bring my calm to the day
We are One you and I
We bathe in the same pool
inspired by Rumi's night travellers.
Jul 2020 · 326
the bus
I left home
Aged 10
Put on a bus and away I went
Gone to oblivion
Into the void
Mum standing on the platform
Growing smaller as the bus drove away
Already gone.
Now a man, I return to that bus
Where that boy should have never been.
I take him in my arms
And hold him,
I will not let him go!
He can come home to me,
Stay with me in my home-heart.
We can be together, friends, brothers, partners, companions at arms.
You are safe now with me my boy!
I will not let you go.
Jul 2020 · 115
Into the fire...
Hello, my name is fear,
Can you hear me?
Hello, I am despair,
I have a message...
I am rage,
I wish to tell you something...
Are you listening?
If you listen carefully
I will whisper a secret to you
Which no one on this world knows.
But you must listen.
To do this, find stillness in yourself
Find the eye of the storm
Find the courage not to run
To distraction or pleasure
But to sit
Or stand
Or walk
Into the raging inferno of your being
With your eyes open,
Your heart open,
Full of curiosity!
And wonder...
"Who made this?"
Apr 2018 · 178
the forest
Today I stood for a hour beneath a tree
The rain steadily falling
Cascading. Bouncing through the leaf canopy
Of golden ocher
Leaves fell
Rain fell
And I was at peace

Stillness that I have not felt for... Many months

I awake to a cool splash on my nose
It runs down my fave and I wipe it away
The forest sings to me
A gentle pitter patter melody
Leaves greet the earth
And I am still

A leaf lands on my arm
Jun 2016 · 445
Holled up
Holled up
I will not leave the house today.
as if you need to ask
it is
well ....
I have no answer.
Something may happen!
what you ask
something ,  that would be bad
So you are scared you ask
Yes I am scared
but scared is not the word
encased in fear would say it better
it sits in my stomach like a black ball
clouds my mind like a fog
the surf is good today. I could go to the beach
but it is outside
and something might happen
I wrote this a couple of years ago when I was suffering from anxiety. I have done a lot of good things since then and just got back from travelling through mexico. Different times but I wanted to share
Jun 2016 · 1.7k
The Principal
"Keep quiet because you might be seen,
Keep quiet because you may not be known!
Be quiet
Stay silent
Say nothing,
Or little as is safe.
Do nothing or you may be noticed.
Do nothing or you may be counted,
Lit by the spotlight of community.
Stay safe,
Stay hidden,
Above all do not rock the boat,
Neither yours or anothers.

Keep your head down
and remain."

This was my advice to you,
It worked.
Was it good advice?
Did you survive?
Are you not here surviving?

But where are you now?
Have you escaped that institution?
You are still there.
Locked inside that prison tomb until death takes you on its sweet ride to freedom...
or not.

I am here now and so are you
I am the one which emerged,
You are the one who hid,
And remained hidden.
And continues to hide.
I do not much care for you,
And you are too scared to challenge my place in our life
And too scared to meet the world from which you hid.
Yet we together are not happy.

I am...
what is the word?
a shadow?
Relying on others fleeting glances to function.
Like a magicians illusion,
Aware that a true gaze will reveal me,
Undo me
And see you.

Who are you?
We do not know
You so rarely show yourself.
You seek solitude.
And so do not discover your self which  
May only be known through others.
Through the sword or pillow play of true interaction
Of vulnerability, conflict and loss.
Through life, adventure and the longing of the soul.
Like a rock falling from a cliff,
Leaving its home of a thousand thousand years
To emerge into a sunlit day
And be worn,
Tossed by the sea,
Ground smooth by natures abrasion.
To reveal and polish
Those fossils,
Those relics of the past,
So that they may be beautifully displayed
Not hidden.
Showing its path through time and space.
I wrote this in march 2013 I think
Apr 2016 · 1.3k
A different world
Sat trying to process
This new world
Without my Nan

It looks the same
But it feels different
As if there is cotton in my ears
To my gran who I have just seen
Who is old
and can't remember things
Who is kind
and asks me the same questions
Who lies in bed
and drinks tea
Who has bought up
four children
And has seven
grand children
And seven
great grandchildren
It was so lovely
to see you.

We had a good chat;
You asked me
where I was going next
about a hundred times
And I loved answering
every time.
We drank tea
And looked at photos.
I bought you a soft toy
And you liked him
"A sweet little fellow"
You said
"It's a shame He doesn't squeak"
You said
Squeezing him.
And you put him on your lap
While I showed you photos
Of your great grandson
And we laughed
About things.

When I left
we caught eyes
I said "bless you"
And bowed to you.
You said "take care of yourself"
And I saw you
And you saw me
And that is where we met.
In the eyes
And in the soul.
That is what I came for
What I hoped for
That moment
When we met.
I took your hand
And said
"it's been lovely to see you"
And then I left
Wanting To say more
Wanting to say thank you for everything
Thank you for knitting me the duck
When I was a boy
Thank you for being a pillar
In my life
That even though
I havn't seen you much
You've been so important
To me.
Just knowing you were there
Has helped me
To be strong.
I wanted to stay
and say goodbye
Just in case...
But I didn't
I got you a blanket
Because you looked cold
And I left
Because Stuart was waiting
In the car park
And I had a train to catch.
And I was worried it might disorientated you
Because we had had a lovely time together.
And I wanted to leave you happy.

I looked back
Through the ward window
And you looked
so alone

And now I'm on the train
To Liverpool street
And I miss you
I think of you
Lying there
And I want to sit by you
And show you more pictures
And get you tea
And make sure your warm
And look after you
Because your so frail
And vulnerable
And I feel sad
The tragedy of life,
That we must part
From everyone.
But I'm happy too
My bones
feel full
And my heart
feels Warm
And I feel my right
To stand up on this earth.
With a warm heart
And wet cheeks
I wrote this some time ago when I visited my Gran in hospital but I wanted to post it today as I just heard that she died this morning.
If anyone has any spare prayers, please remember my Gran today, her name was Eileen.
The poem is a sequel to another poem "Nannie D8 31" I wrote on the way to see her the same day.
Feb 2016 · 1.1k
Nannie D8 31
Waiting on. The train to see you
Bored, **** coffee and a bacon roll
There is something hollow. Empty.
Like the Starbucks take out mug.
Of course I loved you, love you.
But we lived so far away.
Sweden, Ireland, Switzerland
And then when we were close
I was at my uninterested awkward years
When you don't want to visit your Gran
Now I see this precious woman
Whom I have not often seen.
She is old, frail, and may not know me
I am a man with a life and business.
Where do we connect?
In the bones? In the skin or in the eyes?
I'll show you photos, I hope you will be interested.
What do you say to an old woman
Who you barely know,
but has played a key role in your existence?
Who you feel a connection to like the  seabed between two islands.
But you know precious little about.
Eileen, yes that is your name.
You used to like Black Magic chocolates,
But apparently you don't these days.
Your hip is broken
But hopefully getting better.
And you knitted me a duck when I was small.
I was the youngest, thats why. People said.
You were my Nannie, my precious Gran
And I have come to give you some love and pay some respect.
I wrote this a few years ago but decided to share after reading today's amazing daily poem. Grandma, by Ber
Dec 2015 · 659
The Wanderer
I have traveled so far
And for so long
That none could conceive it possible.

My Journey of aeons and lifetimes
Has taken me through
Crystal palaces of exquisite splendor
Where I played with courtesans
The likes of which this world
Has never seen.

I have led armies into battle
Been slain and conquered a million times.

I have ridden ******* on mythical beasts
Exploring worlds of unimaginable beauty.
I've bathed in enchanted pools under cooling moonlight
And lived with the nymphs who dwell in those places.

I have dived to the depths of oceans
And fought with the mighty beasts
Who dwell in the deep.

I have explored the four corners of space,
Spent lifetimes in silent ecstasy
Breathing in and out with the stars.

I have fallen through the earth
And been held captive in the most cruel of places.
I have been cut and tormented,
Had my life ripped away
And been revived in places of daggers and pain.

I have been swept along in rivers of molten flame,
Burned until I could no longer recognize
Even my own body.
Fought, fought and fought,
Killed and been killed
Spending aeons in fear, rage and fury.

I have taken animal form,
Run with the wolves
And howled at the moon in the depths of night.

I have been killed a million, million times,
Loved and lost through bitter heart ache
As my love left me for another life
More times than I care to recall.

I have had Sons, Daughters,
Wives, Husbands, Harems.

I have lived through the greed of owning one million palaces
The hatred of murdering one million men
The love of devoting myself entirely to a precious few.

The self obsession of the inglorious "I".

Misery, torment, abandonment,
Fear, loneliness, isolation, grief... joy.
I have lived through them all
I have lived in them all!

There is not one place in this entire universe I have not visited,
Or one thing I have not owned...
And yet,
I stand here before you
Empty handed and alone.
An old man at the end of his travels,
Weary of adventure
And seeking peace...

A place to call home.

The road is not less traveled!
We play this mighty game of life and death
Never stopping to question
Or pause to think...

The question is not "When will it stop?".
The question is "When will we stop?".
When will we search for home?
Listen to that quiet, quiet voice
Which tells us to be still.
To awaken.
To see that,
From the highest palace,
To the deepest hell.
It has all been  - but a dream

We have been dreaming.

*Wake up my friends
and find peace.
I wrote this in a forest while on retreat.
I have been moved to share it by Tea's extraordinary poem called Reincarnation
Oct 2015 · 423
The Moth Man
The moth likes to hide,
He stays in the dark,
When it's light outside,
He'll blend with some bark.

Moth loves the light,
He may be obsessive.
When the sky is dark,
he can be possessive.

He flies through the night
With sensory perception,
His world is alight
Through the power of detection.

He is contained and discreet,
He doesn't like to be seen.
He's happiest when still
And abiding serene.

He's sensitive to touch
And easily hurt.
He's gloriously brown,
The colour of dirt.

He has no extra
Airs and graces
But you may not see him
Because you are too impatient

He is there,
Hidden, in magnificent ochre,
Obscured in plain sight
The moth playing poker.

Would you like to know this man
In the life mask?
He will tell you his truth,
You just need to ask.
Oct 2015 · 1.3k
Van Diemen's Land
This happy land of Diemens, dogs and bush-walks,
Creative flurries, chats over beer, spag bol and chocolate.
Van trip, scoot down the coast,
Wander along the beach.

Talk of this and that, laugh
And put the world to rights.
Thrash out ideas, share some thoughts,
Wonder if living could be easier?

Two friends who shared a trip to the Beach twenty years back take stock;

And find that from start they had more in common than they knew.
Now seperated by ten thousand miles, A thousand quid and two days flying,
They're closer than they were
sat facing front in that old escort van.

Another chapter ends
Or begins
Or begins and ends.

I awake and think of boarding,
My plane.
I hadn't realised how simple it was
To just be,
To just exist side by side
With an old friend who you connect with.

No need for the usual preambles
Just straight to the core.
Don't waste time, because 20 years fit badly into five days.
And What happens if you click cancel....

before the download has finished?

I'm so reluctant to leave.
These days have been so easy and fun and blessed.
Brotherhood is hard to find
And when will I return?

A red light shines through my window
And appears on the wall across the room.
It blinks yellow and moves as the people opposite
Reverse from their drive
And head off to work.

The daylight outside is growing,
The rumble in the air is not traffic
But waves breaking on the shore
About fifty meters away.

Soon I'll get up, make tea
And we'll all go for a walk.
Me, my frind Toby, Pablo the happy staffie
And Ava the lucky foster dog,
Wandering care free along the beach
as the waves break around our feet.

A plane flies overhead. *******.
Okay I know!
All things come to an end.
And this too shall pass.
It's just I haven't often wanted to stay this much.
It's so fun here,
And life outside can be a bit full on.
Sep 2015 · 2.1k


                                                        ­  WORD





                               C O N N E C T I O N


                     ­            LIKE
                      ­           LOVE

                              ­                       DAD


HARDER                                          ­TO

                        ­         OT


                               C O N T
                                    G     I
                                    N I N




like a flowing river



                   TO THE  S O U L

                            OF A MAN
So often misunderstood
Sep 2015 · 3.5k
Forest peace
Shrouded in mist you come for me
From the silence, from the cold.  
Waiting, watching has been your game.
Now you find me alone,
Hypnotised by the stillness,
Mesmerised by moments of sublime beauty as yet unseen.
I am helpless to resist.

What melody to find in silence,
What comfort in the earth!
Raindrops falling through trees echo through the forest.
A lone web hangs wet with dew.
A mushroom sits heavy with moisture on a tree stump.

The forest knows how to be in stillness
And make it's presence felt.
I wrote this while on retreat in the forests north of Berlin
Sep 2015 · 399
Struck was I
By the sudden thought
Of my fathers love!
Denied so long ago
But there
Like my nose;
Clearly presented
Yet somehow overlooked!
Right there
For the world to see

Like a letter not received
Or a cheque not cashed
Sat on the dresser
But still potent

To be heard

I heard
And the backlog of father love flowed, deluged

And I feel
Sep 2015 · 938
Forest dreaming II
As soon as the forest surrounds me I feel it;
Enclosed, safe.
The softness of nature envelops me.
The sound of my mind quietens
And the forest noises come alive.
Birds calling, droplets of rain pattering on leaves,
a click or a shuffle.
Leaves fall like snow
Softening the heart of the weary.
I dare not move
But with the forest exhale
And acknowledge myself as one amongst the trees.
Would that I could sink my limbs into the earth
And join this silent gathering
Change with the seasons
And know my place on the Earth.
I wrote this while on silent retreat in the forests north of Berlin.
He; inexhaustible yet exhausting,
Ruthlessly efficient yet demanding,
Hard working yet withholding,
Yet deemed necessary.
Protecting that which
Long ago was made sacred;
The heart, the hearth, the home,
None may touch that hallowed ground.
Defence was needed
Safety paramount
And then...

The years passed...

This ninja warrior endured
Sliced, hacked, diverted, whirled in endless pirouettes
Of engaged battles
Of mesmerising movement
Of unrelenting actions
Of no consequence
For the mighty goal of protecting
Was now all but forgotten.

So effective was his defence
Of the thing called 'home'
That it was hidden from all view
Beneath his whirling dexterity of projects and activities.

The years passed...

And there was no home.

Never did the warrior stop to question his task
That old old command.
He simply obeyed
As a warrior should
And continue
Until his death
To protect the property of his master

The result
a hollow, busy, lonely life,
Punctuated by exhaustion
And the question....
"What's missing? "

But so complete was his defense
So skillful his guard
That none saw what lay beneath.
Too mesmerised by his motions to see that
He was but a distraction
A diversion
From the question which would strike such fear into his masters heart
"What will happen if I stop?"
Perhaps this will strike a chord with others who work too hard
Aug 2015 · 423
The veil
In your dinghy with your back turned
You sail away
I stand ashore, alone
You move slowly away, never turning

I see now that you are willing me
Willing me to shout "stop"
Willing me to beg you to turn
To say "please let's try just one more time"
But I do not.

I cannot
I am a child
A boy of ten watching his mother dissappear
As the coach pulls away
And takes him to oblivion

Powerless he felt
With no
His soul
Abandoned on the platform

Now I watch my life
Through a veil of indifference
A passive malaise
Through with which I cannot engage
I am here but not fully amongst the living
I am the abdicated king

But I am shouting my love
only in another world
In another dimension seperAted from body
My soul cries out
And tears stream down my fAce
I am on my knees on the sand
Begging you to return

But you do not hear
You cannot hear

So I Watch my life, my love sail away
And wonder if I may ever love again
If I may ever find the strength
To connect with another
With my heart broken so
Heartbroken again
Jul 2015 · 584
The alchemy of relationship
Do you want to sketch all your life
Or learn to paint a master piece?

Do we not sketch to learn, to develop, to grow?

So why do you still sketch?
What more do you hope to learn?
That people are vulnerable?
That you can hurt them?
That you can leave them?  

Are you not tired of sketching outlines?
Don't you long for tonal quality?
For careful composition and a considered pallet?

I know your secret!
That the canvas scares you, terrifies you even.
All that you will be revealed on that unforgiving scape.
That expanse of white which must be filled and not by charcoal and line.
You will be revealed, exposed and displayed for all to see.
You will be revealed in the shading,
In the sensitivity you give to light and to contrast.
Yes, you will be revealed...
But in it you will be filled in.  
You will have no freedom to remain as an outline of a man,
With all hidden in fine graphite lines and hastily hatched shadow.
You will have to mature as a man, as an artist of the soul
And set yourself free on a canvas with confidence and brush!
What a liberation!

Will the first canvas be a masterpiece?
In all likelihood no!
But it will be a beginning
And how can you consider yourself an artist if you never paint!
How many sunflowers did Van Gough paint? How many chapels?
Was he satisfied with any of them?
And was each of them worthwhile?

Paint my friend, take up your brush and paint.
Use colour boldly,
Reserve fear and reservation for other pursuits
Or better still leave them from your pallet altogether.
Be sensitive and subtle with your treatment of the subject,
frame her well, carefully
But be bold.

There is little point in holding back.
Do you want your canvas to scream, "Hesitation!"?
Paint or don't, but if you choose not to, declare it to the world!
Do not act like a painter, talk like a painter and look like a painter,
If you do not paint!
Declare "I like to sketch"
And sketch until you bear no longer to leave a subject unexplored in a monochromatic if artistic hiatus.
Be true, be bold, be clear and when you feel the time is right paint with the same honesty and boldness with which you sketched.
Then it will be a true training,
Not the pontification a of a trainee conjurer working above his station.
Complete your apprenticeship, graduate,
And step forth into the world.
Confident, upright, paint brush in hand.
blimey bit of an epic this one... And another one which is hard to share :-/
Jul 2015 · 249
Be happy... a note to self
Wait ! What is it that you have forgotten?
You have forgotten to be mindful
You have forgotten yourself.

Try to remember what it was like to be you.
To laugh and smile and to remember your homework.

What will happen if you return
To that place where all smiles vanished.
To where innocence was lost,
Buried beneath grief and fear.

Smile my friend and remember
Remember to smile,
Remember To laugh.
All is not lost, there is much to be had.

Be at peace my friend
because you have much to enjoy x
I wrote this some time ago 17th May 2014. It was a difficult time for sure and Im glad to say that I have moved into a happier place since then :) The poem speaks of returning - something which Im proud to say I have been doing while healing the past. blessings to all x
Jul 2015 · 3.7k
The Bored Gazelle
I stand here poised
Like a bored gazelle about to leap
Not in the Serengeti
But leaning against a bin
Near Frankfurt
It is a wrought iron bin
Of fine craftsmanship
But all I can smell is ****
The **** of a thousand dogs
Over one hundread years
Marking their patch
And having no thought
For this man
Who would have his senses offended
By their ammonia picket fence.
Perhapse I will move
I wrote this one day when I was waiting for someone who I was going to be photographing.
Jul 2015 · 760
Man Mountain
For Keith, that man mountain of towering spirit,
That weaver of emotion, standing proud in his truth.
I wish to be like you;
An artist of the heart, of genuine expression,
A facilitator of truth,
A provider of safety,
Like a harbor for small ships caught in a storm.
You offer a home to those who have none,
A space of healing wrapped in acceptance and silence,
An inn to rest for the night,
So we may continue our journey refreshed.

But how did you find this goodness?
Was it given to you as a gift at birth?
You wrestled it from your soul
With awareness, unflinching courage and tears.
Keith is awesome, the poem says it all.
Jul 2015 · 506
Goddess of the Earth
Thea, the goddess of the earth
Sits like a rock in her chamber of woven light.
The fortunate who enter here
Are blessed and tormented and burned and held.

They arrive knowing that they must make a sacrifice;
They do not pay in money but in tears,
In truth wrenched from the soul,
In accountability and naked raw awareness.

None who arrive do so lightly
But all who come leave lighter.
Their confusion unraveled through skilful enquiry,
Cut by a sharp silver sword of truth and knowing.

Enter - but do so with reverence and respect.
This is a place of healing!
Men and women are unmade and made here.
This is a poem I wrote about a healer I visit occasionally. It is always an extraordinary experience.
We are dancers of the soul,
Fencing with lauguage
To exorcise our truth,
Our passion,
Our pain.

We are bent over
Retching words from the darkest corners of our souls,
We are laying on cold concrete,
Cheeks pressed to old news print as our truth bleeds out,
Rages out!
Spews forth with the bile of
Words never spoken, not honored or even fully felt,
Yet there
in truth

Contained no longer,
They burst through
And like a mob unseating a dynasty,
They chant and sweat and rage and dance
Until their cause is heard and seen.
Until the News at Ten reports
That "the world is NOT AT ******* PEACE!"
That our own kingdoms will not tolerate suppression
And that our souls will be held down no longer.
That we WILL be heard!
We will no longer sit and do as dictated through years and decades and lifetimes of docile abdication.
But with our spines straight
We will rise up and
be heard,
And fight with our poetry,
With our ink or keyboard
For the goal of freeing what we know in the depths of our hearts to be...
Our truth

Bless us!
Or is that just me? Ha ha, no really, this piece is a homage to Hellopoetry and the brave souls who bare their truths to the internet.
Jul 2015 · 692
There were days when he drew crimson across the landscape,
Painted life's already incandescent colours,
With a patchwork of his own joy and creativity,
The stars were a small reach above his head and the moon was his good friend,
He would dive into oceans and explore their depths,
Swim miles beneath the surface where  the world seemed safe and calm,

Then it stopped.

The world stopped...
With life.
And colour with it.

He stopped too and his world was no more.

Like a grey


Without the things he loved





And as time went on...

he forgot,

that he once was happy...

but he knew

somewhere deep down

in some small place in his soul

that he had lost something...

Someone? maybe....

something precious


and that there was a longing inside

a longing

for life

it was like a tiny thread

which one day

he felt





It took him

The inspiration for this poem came from some words from an extraordinary poem
For me, my poem is about life before being sent off to boarding school and and the struggle to refund life and joy since. I hope though that it may resonate with people's own different life experiences with similar threads and provide some hope and inspiration to find courage and follow the thread of longing for life
Jul 2015 · 1.5k
Forest Dreaming
I stand in the forest unaware of myself...
I wish the forest would hold me,
Would take me,
Maybe it is...

Can I stand like a tree in a forest;
My feet like roots into the earth,
My arms like branches,
My fingers leaves,
Moving in the breeze...

Can I unite with the Earths as one with my surround?
Become earth and wood and branch and leaf
And live my life here in peace?

Allow me to bend in the wind,
To grow in spring
And turn my faces to the sun,
Let me drink it's warmth
And feel it awaken my heart!

Let me pass the seasons here,
Watch the moons come and go,
The days grow long and short once more,
Till even I must fade and fall...
Written 4 may 2014 after completing a long building project I went to the woods to reconnect.
Jul 2015 · 608
Veins of the Earth
Here the veins of the earth trickle  between moss and rock,
Their passage held by soil and stone.
Who sees it? who is there to witness?
Who even cares?
The earth knows and turns.

Listen... what will you hear but the birds,
The sounds of running water
And your breath?
What will you feel but the earth beneath your feet?
How dare you think
When nature takes you into her womb.

Why do you sit here friend
And worry about this and that?
Go to the forest and walk.
Watch the trees and the birds.
They will take your cares away
And ease your troubles.
Writen in Scottland April 2014. This was one of the first poems I ever wrote. I was in Scottland in the middle of nowhere and there was the most beautiful stream I ever saw. Probably very few people will ever see it but it's just there!
Jul 2015 · 1.1k
That Ancient Church
How many mouths whispered silent prayer
And sat in these halls wishing for god.
How many lives were celebrated and mourned here.
Unions made and broken.
The family, the hearth, spirit, life and death.
All flowed through here.
Now it stands proud and open to the heavens.
Holding the glory of what has been and is now.

Stone upon stone,
Piece by piece until it was made
That church that castle of the soul
It stood, it stands, a monument to man, toil, sweat and reverence.
Time honours it, blesses it.
Now it is part with the land
As it was always.  

Do not look upon it for you may not see it's glory
And a shame to miss and pass by
and to not think what things happened here.
What joys and sadnesses,
What moments and sorrows it witnessed.
Do not pass by but do not look either
For we cannot imagine. To know
The stories it holds and the memories it keeps.
I wrote this about an ancient church which stood in a Scottish valley with no roof.  The roof had been gone for at least a century.
Jul 2015 · 266
To you my love
To you my love
Whose hand I have just let go
Who now walks in a direction
Unknown to me
And whose fair touch and soft voice
May take repose with
Jun 2015 · 850
Shout "Yes!" and reach for the sky my Brother,
Shout "Yes!" and call your name out in Joy!
You have triumphed!
You are here!
You are alive!
And  the world is here before you.

It will embrace you
For you only exist in thought,
It's arms open in eternal patience.
There is plenty of time
But every moment counts.

What will you do?
Like a canvas unpainted it waits...
Your palette; imagination, courage, unknowing .
You must go to it,
You must run to it!
You must leap!
Bury your head in it's chest and cry "embrace me!"

Do not stand and stare open mouthed
And let the white expanse defeat you.
Now is not the time for hesitation my Brother
You are more than this, you are better than this,
You are the king, the magician, the lover, the master of your world!

You must leap!

You must pick up a brush or knife or better still plunge you palm into colours and paint!
Smear your desire and passion onto the blank expanse.
Reduce the white to bold streaks of vermillion, cobalt and burnt sienna.
How long must we wait!
Seize your passion and make your mark.
First written 24 august 2014 and edited into it's current form 29th June 2015
Jun 2015 · 331
Infantile defence
And so he sat,
Afraid and alone
Waiting for her
To come back to him.
Waiting for her to finish her shower
And walk through the door
in her towel
And say to him,
"Its your turn now",
In her kind loving voice
And he would have a shower too
And it would be okay
written 17 January 2015 18:58
why is it so hard to share a poem sometimes?
Jun 2015 · 197
Creeping silently I advance
Unsure of my destination.
I know my place of beginning;
It is my soul,
My nutrition,
My **** ridden fertile pasture.
From which I must grow,
Move forward,
Be sustained,
And know
I come from
The earth
And that I will survive
And be strong.
written 28th march 2015 07:46
Don't take life so seriously,
Its not like your going to get out alive.
So why wait and wonder
And sit and ponder
At the things which keep you awake at night?

Don't take life so seriously
Because you will not make it out the door.
Sit here and enjoy what you will,
Where you are and what you do
Because it and you will not be here for long!

Don't take life so seriously
Because today may be your last!
Your last song, your last dance,
Your last kiss or love.
Play and sing like you may never again.

Don't take life so seriously
Because the survival rate is nil,
And a shame to watch and wait
And sit and wonder
And never do the things which make your soul sing.

Don't take life so seriously
Because we are here alone
Spinning through space
To a destination unknown
Stuck to a beautiful mass of rock.

Life is the joke, we are the canvas!
We were meant to be painters
And paint our lives into a medley of colour,
Choose a bright colour for today
And do not think that it may be wrong.

Dip your hand in the pallet and paint!
I wrote this some time ago, maybe a year or two. I think it has a nice message so Ill share it. For some reason poems aren't coming to me so much at the moment.
Jun 2015 · 531
The Bells
It is my time of day when I must breathe.
Anxiety knocks at my door
Calling me to prayer
Like the bells of an old steeple.
Chanting slowly again and again
"Oh ****, oh ****, oh ****!"
Reminding me that I need my god.

*Breathe and go inside my friend
Be still amidst this storm.
Breathe and let your soul be nourished
By the free flowing waters of faith,
Clarity and peace
I love the notion that my anxiety is a reminder for me to find God
Jun 2015 · 788
Mindful Touch
Alone I am touched.
My core, rock.
"Do not breathe"
but I cannot not!
Presence touches me,
the twine loosens.
My belly fills like the surging in of the tide.
Light floods in,
colour, humanity.
And i am alone
but present with the world,
feeling my veins
my breath
my nose...

What trepidation
these first few breaths,
as I step from the shuttle
into this new world.
The atmosphere tickles my skin
and i look around at my new home...

Who is this person who sits here?
I will like to know!
There is joy inside
and excited fear too.
I feel a whole man
newly woken from sleep
skin recently shed
eyes newly open
emerging from his rock
walking into the light
blurry eyed
but alive
I wrote this in response to the daily poem a few days ago called "Please" by Denholm Forrest Thornton I strongly identified with the poem and wanted to share and express a part of my journey with mindfulness and in particular bringing mindfulness with the breath into my body and feelings. I hope the poem is not too out there to be enjoyed or understood.
Jun 2015 · 624
voyage of the breath
tell me why
I am sat here again.
encased in glass
with my ear to the window
wondering what will happen next

tell me why I am here sat
unable to move
barely breathing
for fear of life
sat eternally emotionless
unable to face my fear

tell me why
i am still here
my tasks are not simple
but neither are they overtaxing
tell me why I  cannot engage

listen my friend
this is why
you are not ready
you are not capable
you are not right

you are too small
for this world
it will swamp and envelop you
if you dare
to brush past it

so stay here with me
safe and sound
in this quiet solemn place
we call home
and be at peace

let me breathe, i will breathe
my breath takes me through the glass
breathing deeply into my belly
I will let my prana carry me beyond the limits
set by myself long ago.

The breath will engage me
enlighten me
nourish me
give me food
and safety

I will try to find a home there
I love to have this space to share things  and to reconnect with myself.  many thanks
Jun 2015 · 787
Sweet Temptation of Regrets
Chasing rainbows on a sunny French afternoon
Gritty sand dried between my toes.
Spoke over lunch of salad and bread.
Harsh reflections in my head;
Memories of times gone by,
Regrets brush past me like a lullabye.
Soothing me away from life
Drawing me into their own sweet strife.

Lest i make my stand Ill fall,
Swirl like so many into that dark pool.
Decend and spend my whole sweet life
Choked by thoughts which cut like a knife.
Did I do right or did i do wrong?
Who will say when all is done?
But did I live I will ask myself
at the end when all is to dust.
Jun 2015 · 440
Secondary life
Here I sit
Astride my computer
Held in its gaze
Unable to draw away
For fear
That i may miss
Some small titilation
Or item of interest.

I sit here
And feel
And more like
My screen.
A souless avatar,
A mindless hologram
Composed of
Ones and zeros

I commune
With my
Digital peers.
Empty as
A jar
Which once held
Homemade jam.
I feel incomplete.
Jun 2015 · 274
in the face of it
Silently I sit
A little closer
To myself.
Covered with
Emotions scars
And battered
Jun 2015 · 1.7k
In the ash
Burnt pit of despair
I find my fear
Dipped in the blood of my ancestors
My blade greets me
I am whole
a man
amongst men
My bones echo back through the centuries
Through the earth,
Carrying the spirit of the land
To rejoin the souls of old
With those now standing tall.
A robin sings
and moves from branch to ground
Arisen from ash
written after a mens weekend in Dartmoor
Does Calski love Calski?
Sometimes I think no.
Confusion, addiction and destruction are his friends. Or his enemies. Or his lovers. Or his employers. Or tormentors

Choose peace my good friend and come home.
Sit by the fire of life and put up your feet.
The fire will burn but it warms too.
It makes bread and consumes what is given to it.

Stay by the fire of life my friend
And do not run away
Because outside it is cold
And you will be lost!

Sit by the fire of life.
Let it warm your heart,
Let yourself remember love
And let kindness take root.

Sit by the fire my friend,
Let it burn away your sadness,
Let it consumer your grief as you gaze into its flames.
Sit by the fire and weep, let your eyes sting from the heat.

Sit by the fire my friend
And let it make you whole.
Let it bake you into a wholegrain loaf of a man
(and remember that this cannot happen without discomfort).

Sit by the fire my friend
And do not worry if it seems too hot.
The fire of life burns bright near vibrant souls like yours,
Nothing is destroyed, only transformed.

So sit by the fire and stay. Where else will you go?
What will you find there?
It will not be life but something else!
And we have baking to do.
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