Friday, 24 June 2016

The sea stallions


The air swept down from the sea and a salty tang hung in the breeze. The sun shone brightly on the maze of entangled vines and shrub that led to the desolate coastline, where the only sound was the faint murmur of the waves splashing against the golden sand.

A forlorn cottage stood alone on a grassy hill above the beach.  The sea spread out below it like long line of thread travelling far into the distance beyond the line of sight of a human eye. Just outside the cottage a young fair haired girl – Rebecca - stood alone. Her plain yellow dress hung loosely around her waist as she reached forward to pick an elegant morning glory to add to the bunch of flowers held firmly in her hand. She looked out to sea for the first time that day and suddenly she felt a longing to go there. She wished more than anything to visit the crystal blue waves but she knew her mother had forbidden it.

That evening, as the moon cast its white shimmering light, Rebecca crept out of her warm cosy bed and slipped out of the door in her bare feet. The mixture of vegetation around her covered the floor in a carpet of different shades of green; a long silky grass snake slithered out of a nearby bush, the light bouncing off its scales like ripples in a lake.
Rebecca hurried on, anxious not to be too long. As she neared the waves, the sounds of the sea working its magic filled her ears and she felt a thrill to be out in the wild world alone and free with nature. The noise of the waves crashing against the shore in full power hammered against her eardrums blending with the rustle of the wind throwing the sand across the beach like a dog playing with a ball.

Suddenly another sound joined them: the faraway neigh of a horse. Rebecca rubbed her ears thinking she was dreaming, but the neighs only got louder as though a herd of horses was approaching. She had not realised that she had been staring at the sea all this time, but now - as the white foam on the edge of the waves began to change shape - she realised her eyes had been transfixed on the ocean.  A storm was brewing far out at sea and now Rebecca could clearly hear thunder as jets of lightning struck from the sky. The white foam morphed and crystallised until out of the dark water galloped a herd of gleaming white stallions.

Rebecca gasped in delight as they cantered into the distance and slowly faded from view. She longed to follow them but she found her feet planted firmly on the ground. As quickly as it had come, the storm rolled away and the sound of hooves faded to nothing.  

Stumbling home, a neigh reached her ears and she sighed contentedly, her secret encounter hidden safely in her heart forever. 

Monday, 20 June 2016

The Bird

In the dead of night,
With the crow that calls
In the marzipan glow that still hung in the air,
Stood a creature of feathers and sky.
Falling light could not penetrate
But dark wings absorb
For the creature of the dark could not die
Despite all the world’s good.

Loneliness


Alone

I walk these empty streets again
Stained with this hurt:
This hurt of neglect
That seeps through inside;
The pain that tarnishes this road
 Of happiness and gold.
 Now time has passed
And the people I was once with
Are lost in my heart.



The wanderer

My body is young, but my mind is old
Older than the flowering birch.
And in this forgotten youth
I still search far and wide
To find the place that once was lost:
Lost in fear and dread,
The place of secrets forever untold
And magic that hides at will.
 When my search has ended, I will be lost in that world
And forgotten because of this.
Lost for all eternity

And will ever be.


When

When your love dies,
When my life falls,
When the world gives up,
I do not cry.
I do not scream.
Instead I stay where I am
Alone and unforgiven
And watch as the world falls apart
Underneath my feet
whilst I stand unfaltering
Staring into the deep. 

Wednesday, 6 April 2016

Elements



The fire of life
The wings of flame;
The wings of life:
A world’s hope in dying embers.
The life that engulfs;
The life that gives:
The burning light remains.


A world of sin
The world of darkness;
The world of hate:
Where hatred speaks for everything.
An envy of life.
An envy of power.
A darkness of evil,
Of fear, of hate
Reaching out to the last stone heart.


Fruit of death
The fruit of sin.
The fruit that takes.
Cold as stone, frozen as ice
As it takes the breaths of the world.


 The fire
The fire that destroys and kills
The fire that spreads fear
Searing and engulfing life
Burning till there’s life no more.

Monday, 15 February 2016

Though I am


Though I am old
I still search
In this world of doors.
Though I am young
I still search
In this maze of secrets,
In this undecided world. 

Saturday, 30 January 2016

The garden

As I walk up the crumbling tarmac drive, the frosty morning chill rushes up from the north like an Arctic Skua coming in to nest.

The early day smells come wafting around my nose, entangling it in a bundle of rose pollen and dew-smothered grass. Turning to the right to escape the overpowering sea of smells, I notice for the first time the towering fern dominating the landscape. Its delicate leaves spread over the squirrel-trodden ground like feathers. Behind it, glinting with dew, lies an overgrown huddle of spiny bushes reaching like tentacles over the rotten fence. Situated to its left, is a pillar-like tree pointing proudly towards the sun. In the middle of the tree rests a large hole and I half expect a midnight-black woodpecker to come flying through the undergrowth towards it at any moment.

The search


Long we have searched these high mountain tops covered in snow,
While the wind is strong and currents are slow;
High peaks rest here among the domes,
In what is now our icy home.
Through rough and calm we’ve endured long on our own,
Impatient for the time that goes,
And for how long can only the watchers know,

To wait, to search, to find the hope.

Moonrise. Chapter 1.

The faint murmur of rustling leaves ran through the forest like an arrow as Goldenfur raced through the trees to Barchwood Willow.

The sound of voices suddenly filled the air as she neared the ancient patterned door. The door was open slightly on a hinge and a bluster of noise poured out of the room. Goldenfur slowly took a step forward towards the door before turning, looking back at the forest behind her, then strolling in. It was like walking into a firework display and sound was everywhere. Goldenfur quickly reacted and folded over her long rabbit ears to defend them from the noise. Just at that moment a clap rang out through the crowd of animals and all was immediately quiet.

The sea

The sea is what it wants to be: a calm friend, a hungry wolf.
For the sea has power beyond us that we can only dream.
The sea can be a howling lonely scavenger or a joyful happy pup,
But whatever it is, it is a powerful force.