Category Archives: Poems

The sky is clear and dark, the air is cool and I am here, waiting in the garden for the earth to turn. Waiting for the light of the sun to creep across the oceans, over the farms and the fields and through the buildings of this city, waiting for it to turn the cloudsContinue reading “Turning”

As usual I woke up feeling sad this morning, now I am in the garden, it’s 5.30am, dark, windy and balmy, and I have thirty delicious minutes all to myself, here in nature, here with God, the only one who knows me well enough to heal me. But it’s not really a healing is it?Continue reading “Healing”

It’s stronger in the night, in the day something else takes over, something more reasonable that knows what must be done for everything and everyone else, but not for me. When I sleep I am newborn, powerless to my Soul, and though ravished and ravaged by turn, my heart knows no fear.

A family of pigeons have made their home on our roof. I watch them from the garden as they fly off in great arcs and return. Somewhere deep down inside I know how to do that, how to fly. I don’t mean that I can imagine it, I mean that I remember it, it’s storedContinue reading “Flight”

Yesterday was hot, in the evening the sunset was the most spectacular I have ever seen around here and this morning the dawn was beautiful. They say that today is going to be even hotter. Inside my breathing is slow and easy and the ocean is calm. The breeze doesn’t stop at my face, itContinue reading “Weather Report”

   I thought that after I had forgiven myself I would fill with love, light or compassion but I didn’t, I filled with emptiness, and all I saw was a hand smoothing a blank sheet of paper on which I could write anew.

It was so quiet in the garden this morning, then the silence was broken by the distant sound of someone gunning a powerful motorcycle through the empty streets. I know how good that feels, I used to be a biker myself, but this morning it sounded like the howl of a dying planet.

One day all this will be gone, you, me, the buildings, the bridges, the paintings, the books and the poetry, it will all be just another seam, compressed deep down in the earth’s crust. Whatever beautiful life forms inhabit the planet then will have long since adapted to whatever we have left behind. As forContinue reading “One Day”

In how many footsteps do I follow? This path, this human path is worn so deep you would think it impossible to stray but so many of us do. I for one. Perhaps by doing so we make the path a little wider for those who come after, or perhaps we are just fools. TheContinue reading “The Way”

  They reflect light too,moonlight, starlight andthe light of the rising sun. Each spring the lightof the late afternoon suncatches the window of a housesome two hundred metres away. For those few minutesmy house isn’t a house anymore,it’s part of a great stone circle.