Martin Shone's Blog, page 36
December 5, 2015
… and ever on the wanderer toils
~
… and ever on the wanderer toils
to collect the wind-blown mighty spoils
From whence he came
to where he travels
he cannot answer
for his echo, unanswered
He watches with an unfeigned smile
his eyes a-twinkling
his heart on fire
He is the keystone
between light and dark
reading the script
to be the guide and to hark
… and ever on the wanderer roams
to collect the vestiges of broken souls
To sing, dance and fly
are his only wishes
but Earth-bound mortal
his solitude immortal
He speaks of the silent crashing waves
with his spirit and life
with his peaceful malaise
He is the leaf
‘pon which the dusts settle
for his rain of love
gives our rust its mettle
… and ever on the wanderer dreams
to collect the ticket for his own release
December 1, 2015
A lightness of touch
A lightness of touch
can cause the heaviest of passions
… can become the reason to believe
that a lightness of touch
can breathe love
How the feather
pure in its own lightness
settles upon the skin of the Earth
while evening sighs in breaths of gentleness
as the beauty of treetops tinged with a burning splendour of the falling sun
reveals to us that love
is nothing but a turmoil of twisted atoms in the darkness within us
searching for a piece of light without us
searching for love
and yet
love lives in a realm of poetry
where words speak not of love but of being love itself
and so when these words evolve to the page
they smile
and so
it is this impossible division of thought and touch
which invites the question
Why is it that asleep we are joined to the magic
of the hearts and souls of love’s creation,
is it so we can dream of such a creation
and through the dreaming it becomes a reality?
… perhaps
if we look into ourselves
we will see our own feathers
and smile
November 28, 2015
A Winter’s Tale
~
How the moments meander
in eternal wonderlands of winter
where moonlight echoes the frost’s fragile crispness
with its silvern smile
and how these moments
create such silences …
such silences as when the robin
peeps out from the shadows
to see hands being held beneath alchemic smiles
of mystery and apprehension
How the moments meander
in the stillness of a windless cold morn
where skeletons reach to tickle the sky
with their frozen fingertips
and how these moments
create such solitudes …
such solitudes as when one remaining leaf
shivers in its ache to be free
to fall, to be taken by a breeze, to land
to die in her arms, to be loved once more
How the moments meander
within the poet’s eternal darkness
where shards of shadows fall to create an eternity of black ice
with their cold cold smiles
and how these moments
create such fragility …
such fragility as when he looks up
he sees time, nature and the beauty of life – frozen
and so he paints himself a winter’s tale
where passions burn and her soul melts the snows of his loneliness
November 23, 2015
In the beginning
***
In the shadow of our minds
there is a place where stars are born
for in the darkness
beneath the soil of solitude
in the caverns of sorrow and apprehension
there are moments
little feelings
little seedlings of knowledge
waiting to be born
for in the beginning
there was only shadow
and yet
what light shone upon what object
to create the shadow within our minds
where stars are born
There is a place filled with light
eager to seduce the passions of creati0n
into creating
and so, ever and on
this light escapes from its prison of darkness
to shine upon thought and so create imagination
and so create a reality
where stars are born
for in the beginning
there was only shadow
there was only light
and so to create shadow
there was only love
where stars are born
***
November 20, 2015
To find peace
~
The moon was once dust
before it became a light in the dark
before it coalesced into myth
before we gave it its hold upon us
and as I look up now
it becomes mystery
it becomes magical; alchemical
it becomes distant
How a Russian doll is encased in itself
so we have similar traits within us
so we have beatings of this and that
so we have a language which aches to be translated
and here I am distracted
as the trees outside my window, sing
as the sky sends down her music
as the hail reminds me to find peace
and this silence now as the meltings drip
is so much like the moon’s gentle dusting of silken shadows
is so much like a fluttering of wing upon air
is so much like time as it waits to be painted
and so the moon is just dust
as my blood is red frost
as my soul is dark rust
as my smile is untouched
and so to find peace
the silence must become noise
the light must become dark
the song must become silent
and the dance must remain within the moon
until your smile
touches mine
November 17, 2015
Love’s insanity, or the madness of love
How the clouds roil the sky’s calm
with their droplets of chaos
dancing in random madnessess of mythological movement
see how they tumble
how they swirl
how they create substance from separation
how they join the dots once more
only to lose them
to watch them fall
into the arms of Gaia’s embrace
and yet, sometimes they create more beauty
than anything imagined
for what is snow but a tenderness of the impossible
a softness of creation’s kiss
a togetherness of the possible
and a blanket of love’s insanity
for there we see the arena
a white opera performed in silence
waiting for the crunch of applause
waiting for arias to be sung by a midnight’s breeze
waiting for a mystery to unfold
and waiting for moonlight to reveal the elemental truth
of love
for what is love but a moment of snowfall
upon the minds of sanity …
~
~
~
A short note … I wrote this poem after watching an opera tonight by Giovanni Paisiello called “Nina, o sia La Pazza per Amore” (Nina, or the Girl Driven Mad by Love). It has no connection to the opera except for the madness and for love.
November 15, 2015
How bright the call
~
Golden pennies flutter in the breeze
until the wind steals them away
How silent is their fall
as the kiss of death gives freedom
(of a kind)
Some cling on relishing those burning kisses
enjoying the pain, perhaps, between life and death
Those who fall are banked up in the shadows
spent, worthless wet dust
(and yet they give life its meaning)
Soon the stark reality of time upon the path will feast
as the caterpillar feasts, filling its belly with a promise of eternity
The unlit candles wait for the fall of darkness
as church bells once more peal for the light
(searching)
The distance between life and death
is measured in waves of destruction and echoes of love
How the force of beating hearts gives fire to the leaves
as the crushing surf of dark apprehension erodes the roots
(in vain, for love’s seed is strong)
~
How silent the fall
how dark the dance
how bright the call
of life’s romance
November 12, 2015
The love we are meant to be
How the rose petals its way to freedom
by reaching up to creation with its fragrance
and how the sky sends down its thanks
in joyous tears of life
and so the rose blooms
knowing how beautiful life is
and how, regardless of the thorns around her
she is simply free to be a rose
How the tree branches itself in time
in slow movements of its trusting presence
and how the wind speaks its soft thanks
by embracing their roughness
and so the tree grows
knowing how beautiful is the chaos of creation
and how, regardless of the storms around it
the tree is free to be a tree
How this world colours its way to peace
by remembering and creating history
and how tongues and hands paint thanks
by loving the created
and so our spirit evolves
knowing how beautiful is this thing called human(ity)
and how, regardless of the thorns around us
we are free to be
the love we are meant to be
November 9, 2015
Deep within
~
Candles bring with their dance of light
a certain kind of peace in the darkness
and there they create shadows
where the monsters live
and where the pitiful beat of change, aches to escape
The sorcery begins deep within
as the wax slows the ticking screams of time
and there
shadows awaken his soul’s dark remnants, of before
These malevolent madnessess of poetic strangulations
bring a curse upon him
and so he succumbs to the shadows of doubt
and the nakedness of fear
This peace in the darkness
this certain kind of, hope
drips to create patterns on the cold dark of his mind
where the monsters live
and where these creatures are screaming, deep within
and so dear friends
the wind is blowing beyond the window
bringing with it, remnants of tomorrow
where time is catching up with his pen
and where the mirror, reflects the candle flame’s
end
November 7, 2015
Such a moment as this
Such beauty in a raindrop
Such gentleness of sorrow
as each leaf gives up its last smile
Such a caress of her breath
as she kisses the skin of her creation
Such beauty in a raindrop
where within there is the elixir of life
waiting for such a moment as this
for what if life but a moment of joy
of possibilities, of growth
of love, of death
of beauty, of wonderment
of time
Such beauty in a raindrop
Such elegance of flight
as each feather, each wing rides the storm
Such a filigree of expression
as she creates her finest chaos
Such beauty, in moments like this …
