Category Archives: Poetry
I lie beside the water’s edge.
My eyes are closed
but like one sightless,
I feel the touch
of sand beneath my body…
the taste of salt upon my lips…
the sound of surf,
music within my ears.
Then, in motion,
Sea draws me
into her embrace.
She caresses my naked body
with fingers soft and gentle…
she kisses my lips,
I am swimming now,
begging Sea to take me
as I lie quivering in her arms.
I grasp her with my thighs
but she slips away…
returns to kiss my throat,
She is a teasing lover,
laughing all the while
until she has me arching with delight
like a dolphin in mid flight.
Of all the women I have loved,
Sea is the playful one.
She toys with me
and teases me
until I spin
in rapturous delight.
Let me feel again your urging,
let me come to thee once more.
October 9, 2006
She drifts in from the sea
to wrap herself around me,
a soft cool shroud concealing me
from the world I shun.
She loses me in silver haze
but keeps me safe
from prying eyes
of those who seek to do me harm.
There are times
when she is cruel
as when she caused my ship to founder
upon the rocky shore,
then let me wander aimlessly
into places I should not go.
She can be cold and unforgiving
of the mistakes I might have made.
Will I ever find my way
back to the light of day?
Will I ever lift her veil
and walk into the future
where the sun doth shine
brightly and hopefully?
Alas, like a fly caught in a spider’s web,
I cannot leave her,
my Lady Fog so dear.
I have not the courage
to return from whence I came.
I live instead within her shroud
forever as a ghost
drifting slowly from the sea.
©October 25, 2006
The green goddess of Spring
Slips through the woodland,
Leaves bright splashes of colour
Where her feet have trod
Of new leaves and fronds unfurling.
Petals and buds uncurling of
Bluebells, pale windflowers and golden celandines, pink apple blossom,
Yellow deadnettle, wood sorrel, primroses and violets.
As she weaves her way ‘twixt bush and tree
The birds follow her
In riotous assembly of song
And flashes of colour from breast and wing
As they feast
On caterpillars in the new-burst foliage.
The brook gurgles happily over its bed of stones
Where temple maidens come to gaze in its watery mirrors,
Their long hair trailing in the current.
They listen to the babble of the brook
as it whispers and chatters its tales of things seen and yet to pass.
Shy animals make their way to the edge to drink:
A silent doe with huge, liquid eyes with its nervous fawn.
A quick squirrel, frightened by the sound of a raucous jay
dips in a timid paw and turns to race up a nearby tree.
Testing the morning,
my cat sniffs the air,
gauges the warmth of the sun,
the possibility of rain,
the nearness or absense of danger.
One foot slightly raised,
he listens for human voices,
the twitter of birds,
Only then, curled and waving,
does his tail follow him out the door.
I sit on this stone bench
And I’m glad that for once I have nothing to do
No responsibilities, no duties
I sit here and marvel at the stillness I can create within myself
In the midst of the Abbey’s bustle
I smile because I am just being
The stone bench represents my life as it is in this moment
Unadorned, simple, uncomplicated
The Abbey is a precious sanctuary
Akin to sitting by a peaceful stream
And watching it flow by
Once my peacefulness has returned to me
I can once again
Face anything that life brings
But I need this oasis in order to carry on