When the morning does come,
Bright, fitful, luxurious bellows of the Divine glance,
Starting to peek through those leaves,
To have fought for, to see,
Ever blossoming arms of the right
To flee the night,
Into such a morn,
Soaring songbirds blazen the way,
Into a dripping, wet, green, misty, dew-driven day.
Time shall roll,
Laid back in thine eyes to know,
Gentle in the pace, easy does go,
Through the days,
Mellow in the haze,
Peaking at the gaze,
Into the boughs of wilderness bright,
Speaks to thee with all flaming might,
Sure & tender, ripe & Oh the splendour
Dances in the forests with the winged ones so heighty,
Laid back is the laugh of the relaxed ones who go rightly.
For what is it to toil & slave
In a city so full of black & grey?
What is it to hurry so fast about,
When one can instead tickle a trout?
Back to the rolling hillls of love,
Where the skies do fill with dreams high above,
To where the raven peeks a glance through the Oak trees at dusk,
To where the valleys in the morning are filled with mist & musk.
Sleepy daze of the laze,
Peaceful haze of the rays
Of summer to thine soul,
The plumber of the whole,
The tender loving grows,
The more Wales is secretly known.
Chorus of those birds tickles purity in the ears,
Inspiration to the word, joined with tiny peers.
For how could lonely be, encompassed with sweet serenity?
Gentle folk of the hills do brave, so thanking this land for the love brought to me,
For my love is here & lonely I was,
But the loving nature of the land, offered the mighty up
& now there is justice in my heart enlivened so,
For the words are full of wonder,
Wales does truly know.
SAJMRM 12:29pm 2/6/2017
Choice to think.
No thought left.
Blank empty shell of a mind.
What is left?
Choice of a prayer.
An ember, still glowing
Under cascades of rubble.
Wipe away the tears,
And splintered shards,
To gently blow on this speck.
Such a tiny space occupied
So furiously by solitary white remains.
Only focus left,
To nurture the given flame,
Easing just a spark,
To spring into fire once again.
Deeply inhaled the drive of a breath,
Words of Angels,
Soothing my pain.
No choice but to ease this tiny fire,
Finding twigs to build a blaze.
Staying by this only special place,
Shielding the little baby flame.
No point of contact with anyone else,
No words to say,
No choice left.
Only a simple remedy,
By the comfort of this special place,
Grows the sight of a dream.
As the heat of each dancing fork
Shows life to the soul,
The prayer of what was left behind,
To glow mightily once & for all.
Sweet delicate prayer,
For this dream of life to unfold.
Still in a blaze.
Dreams replenished of old.
Quietly slowly in gentle moment,
Time rolling patient growth,
Melting ice of blistered finger,
Rays of summer to the spirit.
Empty shell of brain be twinkled
By the ebbing flow,
Constant tickle to the memory
Of dreams of youth to know.
Pushing flames eating the dry tree,
Fill full with vibrant blaze.
Scorching heat drying tears
Into smiles of peace of the summer haze.
SAJMRM, Conscious Erotica, 2017, including the prospective GCSE in Consciousness, introducing the economical concept of Hollistic Well-Being Hospitals & much spiritual, experiential poetry. Currently being prepared for potential republication.
SAJMRM, Shamanic Elation, 2018. Poetry inspired by ongoing, active shamanic practice. Currently being prepared for potential republication.