Martin Shone's Blog, page 45
February 1, 2015
What she gave me
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https://agapintheclouds.files.wordpress.com/2015/02/what-she-gave-me.mp3
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It was such a long time ago
she gave me a gift
I didn’t know what it meant
perhaps I still don’t
and yet
Time is a distant memory
and it was a very long time ago
but, so is now
and we have so little of it
looking back
I see I can fold time
and see her, but not see her
This memory thing we have
this prophetic voice inside us
tells us things we remember
and we use these things to prophesize our lives
all because of time
and our running out of it
and so we believe in something, ghostly
and so we trust in something, distant from our understanding
and so we live, not ourselves but our memories of time
and yet within us, knowledge exists
and so we listen … to the teachers
but are they the right
or the wrong
It was such a long time ago
is it any wonder our memories are corrupted
January 29, 2015
of silence
to feel the silence of your kiss
as it, reaches into the deepness of my wishes
as of a song, sung from the heart of a watching butterfly
whose tears perhaps last longer than its own life
to feel the very breath of your mouth
as it, touches the skin of my intoxication
as of a song, sung from hearts of the forest’s hidden folk
whose enlightened smiles only shine when they dance
to feel the silken touch of your eyes
as they, bleed such love upon my raggedness
as of a song, sung from the hearts of the watching Atman
whose light rises from the depths of darkness
to feel, anything but this empty winter
as it, seeps from the sky to burn my soul
as of a song, sung from the hearts of phantom wishes
whose fragile dusts become lost in the winds of silence
January 28, 2015
Fascination
***
we weave the impossible
to bring about the possible
knowing all along
how it is
all simply a chaos of dreams
***
January 26, 2015
The shadow of love’s touch
evening shade of memory
drifts across the flowers
and in time the rains will fall
to perhaps encourage the seeds of tomorrow
a little star, such a little star
begins to be afraid of the night sky
as it feels the suffocating deep expanse of space
and so looks to shine, regardless of its minority
glass, snowflaked and laced
encroaches upon the reader’s fingertips
a subtle kind of imagination’s cunning
where only a softness of crystal thoughts grow
oh gentle pains of time-ridden travels
how you teach one’s memory to believe
where once, where once all was nothing but a glance
of the shadow of love’s touch
Time
***
Lasting thoughts reveal
the immense problem of time
Fragile universe
***
A short note. I’m still off work with the injury to my leg, hoping to go back on Wednesday. Also I’m surrounded by boxes packed and more boxes waiting to be packed as I shall hopefully be moving to a new apartment this coming weekend. And thinking of time, we always seem to want more and when we have it, it’s gone in a procrastination of ponderings!
January 19, 2015
Love’s willow
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Imagine if you will
but then I know not where from these words descend
perhaps into the beauty of thine shining light
from whence comes
but then I know not where from these words end
only in thine smile there is chance of time
of time, it appears, of time
to reveal in revelations of happiness
burning away in destructions of heart
the glowing flower of love’s willow
from where and from beneath and from within
from within, from within oh from within
but then I know not where from these words begin
and yet there lives in tender touches of soft spoken tears
such breath, such deep inhales of thought, yes of thought
of longing to be, oh for one moment of sight
as from the sun, risen in all its splendour, how it shines because of
but then I know not where from these words arrive, I know not
only this I know, only this thing here within me, this ache of turmoil
beating as it does to sound of, to the echo of … of … of
such things I cannot hear, I cannot bear, I cannot live until
we kiss the sunrise, while itself kisses the glowing flower of love’s willow
but then I know not where from these words descend
I know not
I know not why my fingers tremble as I write
I know not why the beat of me slowly fades in moonlit sanctuary of night
from whence the solitude of light blankets in soft spoken tears of whispering
only to be birthed again in redolent fervour of thine breast
rising and falling, singing passionate arias of desire
as from within there is thine pure heart sobbing sobbing
for the glowing flower of love’s willow
but then I know not where from these words belong
for I am silent in mine
January 18, 2015
There are shadows (novel update #6)
‘So the spider hangs’ is moving along at a gentle pace. It has reach a little over 6,000 words and I have merged the three previous chapters into one beginning. Today I wrote two more pages in my notebook which ended with this little paragraph.
Even in the dark there are shadows, as there is always a brighter light in the blink of an eye of song from the feathers of reality than in the noon-day sun as it burns away the eclipses of time, and so there is always a bouquet of possibilities ready to bloom into existence.
I shall be putting this aside for a short time while I give my short Young Adult novel a final edit before setting it free. I’ve been writing it on and off since 1999 so I think it deserves my full attention. I’ve set myself a target to have it self-published with Lulu before the end of April.
Also there is a move to a new apartment in the pipeline, so in the next few weeks I might be a bit quiet.
January 15, 2015
Fragile is the glass
The shadows of the crumbs of the bite of time
fracture against the rock face of the rhythmic dance of life
Wherein, there lies the mystery
Why is it we fall
Why is it we dance
Why is it we think we are not ghosts, not shadows, nor blemishes on the fragrance
Why is it, we love
Fragile is the glass to be drunk from
Why is it we feel
Why is it we love
Why is it we think we are ghosts, shadows, or fragrant
Why is it, we hurt
The light of the stars of the kiss of time
envelops the rock face of the empyrean dance of life
Wherein, there lies the enigmatic reflection of ourselves
Fragile is the glass, empty, yet to be filled
Why is it we taste
Why is it we hunger
Why is it we think there are ghosts, shadows, or fragrances
Why is it, we dream
The wild woods of the composer of the breath of time
climb the rock face of the impossible dance of life
Wherein, there lies the tempest
Fragile is the glass
Fragile …
January 14, 2015
Win a copy of my book Silence Happens
Would you like to own a copy of my book Silence Happens: Little Thoughts of Life, Nature, Peace, Freedom & Love?
It just so happens I am giving away one copy to one lucky winner, all you need to do is visit my Goodreads giveaway page and click Enter to Win. If you’re not yet a member of Goodreads, it’s free to join.
The giveaway is open until 13th February 2015, so Good Luck :)
Here is the five star review from my lovely friend Diane who’s website can be found here.
The “little thoughts of life, nature, peace, freedom and love” in this collection are like whispers in the ear, not from any human source but from the sensory and spiritual rhythms of nature and the Universe. The title is perfect, for this is as close as words can be to silence, happening as they will, without any intellectualizing or reaching for meaning. This is a miniature book of Zen that anyone can practice just by reading it through or opening it randomly to be calmed, connected to the intuition, and reminded that beauty, peace and love are always available. It offers a place in which to be safe and encouraged. The reflections in this book are hypnotic—even as one reads, like closing the eyes and breathing in their promptings to observe, experience, imagine and believe.
Martin Shone is a poet who knows that …
“Poetry doesn’t have to be words
Poetry can be your dreams
your memories
your future
Poetry lives within your soul
Poetry is you”
Silence Happens is a lovely book to give yourself, or anyone else, and treasure for its spontaneity, simplicity, sublimity and, not least, the quietness of its poetry.
January 11, 2015
The beautiful poetry of touch
for the moment I acquiesce
because the moments are here to be lived
and so I allow these feelings of sorcery
to bleed into me
and so I feel
the extraordinarily mythic rhythms of your pained magic
waiting to curse me with your beating passion
and so I release
to become
the choir of your soul
and we shall sing for all eternity
the beautiful poetry of touch
… burning the words as we imbibe
before they chance to kiss the page
