Poems

 

So honesty

So tired of whorls,
darkness of the opposite
thoughts that spin with
fern-like qualities.
Hunter green reaches for
seafoam

Apologies.
We ask AI what a lie is
and you smile.
A tiny decibel at the root
of likeness
grows loud,
light unfurling it,

And your teeth gapped
take the freshness in
and beg for a beginning.

 

Life lessons from a wild flower

Who plucked out sky’s eye
And turned it blind?
Paper disc of silvered moon
Reflect, mirror like, each lunar phase
On slender stems of bleached bird bone
A talisman to modern gods
Alternate years your crop will fail
Store silver dollars
Of witch spurned weed
To shield against feigned fears foretold
Complicit now in guarded greed
That simple slice
Its name unsaid
Don’t reminisce on modest times
Join clatter screech of magpie things
Feathered life - your hoarded pile
Throw out your store of humble seed
Translucent to the worlds demands
Sow circles of simplicity

 

Honesty

I was only five years old.
Entrusted with the separation,
Rubbing each gently
between thumb and forefinger;
Outer discs softly falling
Duller, browner,
Than the perfect one revealed.
Loosed seeds gathered up
In used brown envelope
For future sowing.

The rattle and clack
Of the ball in the spray paint -
Gilding the teasels.
Cutting holly from Bluewater
Ivy from Four Acres;
Fresh mixed with dried
In a festive arrangement.
Christmas was so simple then
Gifts of garden, field, hedgerow -
My mother's creativity.

I learned my love for nature
At her knee.

To Honesty
(Also known as Moonwort, Moon Pennies, Lunaria)

In Springtime, row after row
of loosely clad forms rise up slowly

from soft, green kneelers,
inclining their many purple heads.

By Summer, I’ll be blessed
by a gardenful of Saints,

sagely nodding and genuflecting,
their days spent slowly fading

from vellum to parchment,
and at night they startle the dark,

reflecting eponymous light
in a fragile, fleeting frieze.

Then I must turn iconoclast,
smite them with secateurs,

decimate their serried ranks,
march away with my haul

of shaking paper haloes, then
condemn them to a slow, untidy

martyrdom, hanging upside down.
My shed becomes their reliquary.

By Autumn, I find their depleted congregation
prostrate on the leaf-strewn lawn

beneath stripped-bare vaults of hawthorn,
now open to the heavens.

Come Winter, I’m left with an ossuary
of sticks, all hollowed out, and topped

by flattened gaping skulls,
with seeds for eye-sockets.

Elsewhere, unseen, the faithful few
who fled into hiding, deep

within the empathy of earth,
wait to perform their biennial miracle.

And when the Cold Moon rises,
full and round, the wind is heard
lamenting through the chantry

of their forebears’ pale remains:
‘Lunaria, La Luna, La Lune’.

H ere, the
O neness of our wondrous wow-full
N atural world displayed, we are
E ntranced. With wings and owlrise,
S piral, shadow, spider and the
T hisness of twisted trees Phil paints our
Y ou-niverse.

Fairy Gold

Silver dollar
seed pods start to spiral,
spinning gold,

but just for a moment,
only until dreams fade—

the honest light of day.

Its glowing embers
And delicate paper leaves
Fragile life elates

Spiral Thinking

I leapt out of bed
In corkscrew-like fashion,
Flung open the curtains.
Almost spun my head
On the glass canvas view;
Snowflakes
Outside,
Tiny bespoke patterning,
Each and everyone one
Swirling  and swishing, 
Motion without reason
Whilst I have many to move.
Tick tock
I’m off,
Along the road, turning
This way and that
Onto straight metal tracks.
Head over heels
In decreasing circles for years;
On the
Inside.
My life, cyclical repetitions
Until
Today.
Here is my self
As a beautiful snowflake,
Spinning  through space
Across minuscule points,
In a spiral galaxy 

Nature Spell - Full Moon in Yurt

 

Drumming with the sounds of nature

calling the day to a close.

Tree spirit dances to the beat of my drum

I trance with her rhythm

Tree spirit, drum spirit, my spirit

In harmony, in flow, in perfection.

 

I hear Water spirit

calling from the stream

Her potent vibration flowing through dusk’s chill.

And then

a bright golden glow, Grandmother Moon sensuously   

Rises- up through skeleton trees.

She shines her radiance

I sigh, settle into moon gazing

 

Somewhere in time, the kettle begins to gently whistle on the stove.

In a while, not too soon

I will go and pick mint from the wild cherry orchard.

Spiral of Honesty

Sometimes I am dishonest.
The outer spiral shows only the shiny stuff.
Carefully arranged in the best light to give the right effect.
I was well schooled in not giving myself away.
Because people don't really want to know how you are.
But I could never quite hold my reserve.
My face would not belie me.
My feelings etched plain for all to see.
If you dare to travel to the inner spiral
you'll find the moments of doubt.
The worries and fears.
Because underneath it all
we are so many things.
Flowers.
Seed cases.
Paper thin.
Fragile.
Delicate.
Mortal.
Ashes flung into the air.
Blown away by the wind.

Sunflower Heads

I look down from my window
on the sunflower heads
which open up in September
splaying yellow petals
round a widening microphone
of seeds -

into this brightness
an angel announces:
you are too worried
about everything, Gerald,
the cold is not yet winter,
the cloud is not so low -                               

 beyond the sunflower heads
the petal stretches
out through the lawn to our shed,
I watch the angel hopscotching
to the eucalyptus tree
concentrating on a smile -                                      

 she is reminding me to be happy

Spiral Of Honesty

Spiralling in
Absorbing the light,
The lessons, the sufferings, the achievements.

Gathering in
The hope, the inspirations,
The dreams, the battles won, the grievings.

Shaking out
Panning for gold with the honesty spiral
Sifting with insights and integrity.

Circling down
With the nuggets
Into soft, dark earth, decaying compost of life.

Resting up
To nourish new phases of being.
All experiences welcome in the mulch.

Regenerating on
Recycle the stories into something wonderful.
Nothing is wasted by the wheel.

Spiralling out
Unfurling slowly sunwards,
Dancing light and free

Lunaria Haiku

Moonpennies cast light
in shady corners, membranes
never wane or tear.

Ground with pestle, mixed
in fat with henbane, mandrake
giving witches wings

offspring of Luna
grown in full sun, Honesty,
brings prosperity

Moonpennies, Chinese
coins, money-in-both-pockets,
purchasing power

 

When In Pursuit of Honesty

do not 

    let the dark

deceive you

   nor the light

blind your eye