Poetry Blogs (mythology)
What if the Sabbath weren’t a day
but a state of being
that permeates our earthereal Eden?
What would you keep holy?
Sunday 29th March 2020 3:00 pm
the fire is for You a beloved magic
which You are easy able to give to the people like gold
the love of the people is an overjoyed day-dreaming
dear Titan You like the people against Zeus deeply
the human-being made from tears and clay is admiring You
the eternal dreamer and the cloudy rider so delicately
thanks to humane skills – we know them anyway
with Apollon You go on a j...
Thursday 21st November 2019 7:40 am
Under the yellow-green of sunlit beech
between banks of bluebells' hazy blue
where supple crosiers of new fern reach
over verdant moss still damp with dew
a grassy lane runs beside the river
In the mystic quiet of a leafy dome
of grey bark ash, beech and mighty oak
a far cuckoo calls the dryads home
but we pass unseen by woodland folk
'til tylwyth teg w...
Monday 4th June 2018 9:31 am
Between the dark Ystwyth and the angry sea
We walked the cold stone beach
From the swirling river mouth
To the striated rocks beneath the southern cliff
Their upended strata pointing the way across Tan y Bwlch
Beyond the town beneath its northern cliffs
A Celtic god watches and menaces
Black Lugus on Pen ddinas Maelor:
We brave his fierce storms which shade our day
Thursday 1st March 2018 3:29 pm
Semper animus libera
O Thou that watches over all
And marks the good in man
Unnamed Godhead of all the thronging spirits
Who guard thy mortal worlds -
When skies darken and the plunging waves roil through
When the mountains themselves spit ruddy fire
And melt into valleys or crash steaming into the ocean deeps -
To keep thy people safe in those mortal li...
Friday 12th January 2018 1:55 pm
he met a force
it held him
... and wonder drained the world of substance
re-arranged the pages of his book to give more radiant a reading.
The light of new possibilities
pressed down on time.
The girl sang to him "You can hear the boats go by". He
Saturday 16th September 2017 6:06 pm
Lost in transition
Your words carried like a brief encounter
Emotion is the monster hiding outside the walls
Gangreen in suburbia and skinned alive
With donkey ears! Good Gods!
Occupations occupy stations on the wall
Barrymore paints the myths of time
To hang in Manchester as a quiet man
Tells of lost love.
Sonnets to art leave us lost
Tuesday 14th February 2017 12:20 am
M A T C H S T I C K
“And to his rock be bound eternal; forever gifting man all that is infernal.
Bound by chain, suffering as the eagle’s meal; freedom bought by the one who shall steal.
Unto the eagle’s beak his blood be lash; to control he who shall become our man of ash.”
There is always blood flowing down Prometheus’ mountaintop. He who had delivered to human...
Monday 29th August 2016 8:35 pm
We both know he doesn’t love you.
Catching the venom meant for his eye,
silent even though he should cry
out in fury at your meddling.
Even the serpent laughs at you.
I’d think your body was through
even if your heart was still into
an idiot’s errand that no one would rue.
The end ...
Wednesday 2nd March 2016 10:08 am
~~Orphan phantom all alone
Within reach from dusk till dawn
Scuttling limbs of Arthropods
Play the harmonious earthly cords
Bitter velvet in water’s core
Chanting monks, four by four
Angelic screams jogs the storm
As hounding harps rabbits their form
Burning icebergs cremating ghoul
Ecstatic mermaids make love to fools
Travellers boat, companion Charon
Spring has lost to Persophone
Wednesday 22nd July 2015 4:29 pm
It speaks, says they
In a form of perish
She sleeps purely
to only start waving
to them and their
little deformed spirits
Come closer, hence –
Wednesday 22nd July 2015 4:26 pm
All seeing eyes
Guardian of the gate,
the stairway of skins.
with satyr hair.
Counting the days,
ticking them off
in a parchment book
with a pen on a string
twined with spider thread.
Sits in the sunlight
and watches the workers
to-ing and fro-ing
like ants on a hill
with their own little tasks,
while he has no legs,
just sits in a chair
Thursday 19th February 2015 9:30 pm
The Walkin’ Man
For Pete Seeger (May 3rd 1919 – January 27th 2014)
Serendipity Spangle was a walkin’ man -
of that, there is no doubt,
he walked across great continents
and was seen round here about.
With his low slung jeans and guitar,
he had no need for fancy suits,
he just roamed the great blue yonder
in his worn down cowboy boots .
Those who were there at his birth
Tuesday 4th February 2014 1:13 pm
I believe that all things cosmic are bloody and symbolic
Nothing more to life than to eat and breeding movement
Myth and the endless devil
Remembering and passing on to sacred mixing and ritual use
A fifth of unity
Fall rain and long dead forms
A world of silly limbed animals
Burn grey open female desert and lush excess
Each to the other a lowly genesi...
Thursday 10th May 2012 11:26 am