Ruminations: No 1

Ruminations: No 1

 

I am come

To burn my thorns

To open my heart

To feel the precious

Acts of kindness

Extended in the hands of others.

 

I am come

To burn my thorns

To open my heart

To hear the joyful laughter

Of you, me and Other

Dancing spirals with the wind.

 

I am come

To burn my thorns

To open my heart

To see the invisible

To hear with eyes wide open

And see with ears allowed.

 

I am come

To burn my thorns

To open my heart

To smell the salty

Swell of ocean waves, kissing

Playful pebbles as they run.

 

I am come

To burn my thorns

To open my heart

To celebrate the wonder

In Beauty’s breathless whisper

Of red full moon at dawn.

The Voyage

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I wrote this poem on a beautiful sunny September morning.  We were at sea and it was in the hours before our last seminar together with Abraham and Esther.  Enjoy 🙂

When heavy skies hang damp and cool

In an English Channel grey

The Silhouette – our ship most fine

Sails ‘midst white horses soaked in brine,

Her gleaming bows cut through with ease

These swollen, choppy, steely seas.

 

It’s far above her waking decks

I find Crow’s quiet, cosy nest,

Astounding views, expanding views

One eighty of the very best

Where sky meets Sea and seagulls soar

I gasp wide-eyed and feel the more.

 

The passage smooth, our course is south

Beyond a blue Atlantic mouth

Where Spanish flare and passions rise

To Lisbon’s ancient castle prize.

A voyage so rich, this journey’s sweet

Exploring, moving, much to meet.

 

Gibraltar’s Straits, her monkeys too

Moroccan peaks, surprising views.

The Silhouette, our ship most fine,

Her crew, the people, cabin – mine!

Momentum grows, quickening pace

Blessed beauty, abundant grace.

 

Laughter’s sails fill with glee

Voyaging the Med, Blue Sapphire’s Sea

Where rests a harbour, jewel of calm

And Roman roads are lined with palms.

There marble paths lead smooth as glass

To ancient ruins, stories past.

 

There’s so much more I wish to say –

The friendships, contrast and the play

My moonlighted cabin bathed in light

Soft Ocean whispers through the night

Until new threshold, day is born

And magic sparkles with the dawn.

October Dawn

Living at the foot of Grabbist in the beautiful medieval village of Dunster is a blessing.  There have been many hours spent enjoying walks exploring woodland, moor, beaches and coastal paths and whilst I am finding it easier to be up in time for dawn, this was the first time I have ventured up through Grabbist’s woods to watch day break over the Quantocks.

Inspiration was at my side.  Images caught, words flowed to become the poem below.  I trust you enjoy and that you may catch a glimpse of how it felt and more …

Happy October everyone!

As new day dawns and wonder breaks

Grabbist’s woodland whispers wake,

Sun, frisky, round – his smile bold

Now risen shining dressed in gold.

Tis rosy pink and misty too

This quiet dawn October view.

The rabbits, blackbirds and the deer

They’re all awake and with me here.

A stag stands guarding peaceful doe

With quiet grace and strong repose

His presence proud, inspiring poise

Live well today and feel Life’s joys.

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For Family, For France

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Sun drops

Tide to time

France rocks in

World’s embrace

Tears shimmer

Seeking grace

Breezes gentle

Stroke thy face

While far below

Land’s Ocean ledge

Ripples flicker

Flames of light

And out of darkness

Path burns bright

Moon rises

Cradles grace

Hurts held

In Love’s embrace.

Two kings, a stag and a dream

Stag

Today is 19th May.  Saint Dunstan’s Day, and I’m following his footsteps back in time to discover this legend…. This is an old story, a Somerset story.  It’s about a young boy who had a dream ….

Long ago, over a thousand years to be exact, deep in the Mendips and in the ancient village of Ballsbury there lived a beautiful baby boy whose name was Dunstan.

His father was a nobleman and his mother a woman of sweet affection and gentle ways.  Dunstan grew into a happy, playful child and wherever he went, he spread warmth and delight with his sparkling blue eyes and bouncing golden curls.

From a tender age he knew what he wanted and so with his parent’s consent, Dunstan’s head was partially shaved, and he went to live amidst Glastonbury’s ruins under the guidance of Irish monks.

Soon Dunstan was mastering his studies whilst fostering eager dreams of restoring the abbey.  Most thought his youthful optimism would come to nothing but in the years to follow Dunstan’s devotions blossomed.  Not only did he become a master silversmith, musician and artist but it was there, amongst the abbey’s remains that his heart found a meeting place.

Dunstan’s fame spread throughout the land, and it wasn’t long before the young monk was summoned to the royal court where he quickly became a trusted favourite of Athelstan.  Athelstan was king; the first Anglo Saxon monarch of the whole of England and King Alfred’s grandson.

But there were some whose hearts grew dark and heavy in the shadows.  They hated Dunstan’s popularity and soon their jealous whispers reached the ears of Athelstan where they planted seeds of treachery, wickedness and deception.

And so under the king’s orders, one autumn night as Dunstan returned from his evening walk he was seized and thrown from Court.  Beyond the palace gates, his enemies were waiting.

With an ugly roar the mob set upon Dunstan.  Their angry bellows and clenched fists filled the quiet night as blow by blow they battered Dunstan until he was bleeding and barely conscious.  Then he was picked up, thrown into a cesspool and left to die.

Somehow Dunstan managed to crawl from that stinking hole to the house of a friend.  After a miraculous recovery, that is a tale unto itself, Dunstan journeyed on until he arrived into the service of his uncle, the Bishop of Winchester.

Dunstan never saw King Athelstan again.  It was only after the king’s death that Dunstan was summoned once more to the royal court – this time to Cheddar to be in service to the new king, Edmund.

Once again Dunstan’s increasing popularity inspired hatred and envy.  More plots were hatched and once more Dunstan’s enemies looked to have succeeded.

The next day the king ordered Dunstan’s exile.  Unsettled by the rumours he had heard Edmund was angry and upset.  Feeling like a fool for trusting Dunstan he stormed from the palace and ordered his attendants to join him for a hunt.  And so it was, mounted on his favourite horse, the hot headed king led the chase deep into Mendip’s misty forest.  Edmund did not care what game was flushed from the undergrowth until he saw the recognisable shape of a stag standing out against the soft afternoon light.

Charging after the noble beast Edmund’s attendants were soon left behind as his horse and hounds galloped at full speed towards the cliff edge.  Blinded by his fury, Edmund could not see the danger ahead as he rode hard, driving his quarry before him.  The stag rushed blindly over the vertical cliff followed by the hounds who hurtled headlong after it dropping like heavy stones into the empty darkness of the silent gorge.

As the ground opened up before him and believing death was imminent, Edmund suddenly remembered his dear friend and trusted advisor Dunstan.  Pulling hard on the reins to stop, the king closed his eyes, “I promise to make amends if I am saved.”

Edmund kept his promise.  After a shaky ride back to the palace, Dunstan was summoned and the two friends were reunited.

The following day they rode to Glastonbury. The king led Dunstan to the abbot’s throne, knelt before him and kissed his hand.

Now, Abbot of Glastonbury, Dunstan set to work on the abbey’s ruins.  At last his youthful dreams would begin to come true.

Sunshine-in, Sunshine-out

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Sun shines … Flowers bloom … Hedgehog stirs … Clouds gather … Darkness looms … Lambs shiver … Rain pours … Water flows … Earth softens … Clouds clear … Sun shines … Clouds gather … Wind bites … Darkness looms … Rain pours … Children run … Water flows …                                                                                               Clouds clear … and the bees are waking up.