This page contains some of my other poetry, the poetry that wasn’t about performance but the simple snippets of life, the moments felt and caught in words, often then left in a book or scrap of paper until found again! And so these are some of those that have been found and bought back to life in a new way.
And its such an honour to be able to weave the poetics of life through the beautiful melodies and heartfelt words being sung, as theres something so magical about sharing the stage with your friends! Usually we play in the long grasses and around the fire, the best stage anyone could ever want for, but when the tents and stage beckons, we shine like flames in the night before returning home to the fire where we do it all again!
The Thinking Tree
When I was little, I used to have a thinking tree.
I’d climb out the mould grown window
of bedroom boredom,
down the ivy ladder
and off into the wild.
The brook ran just behind the train track
of our cul-de-sac house,
in a sleepy village setting
where chemical trails in bright blue skies,
still held the innocence of freedom
through childhood eyes.
I would always climb over the knotted gate,
with third rung sprung from its socket,
despite the open catch.
Excitement always picked up the pace of footsteps
walking the familiar path of meadow grass
where chirps of the sky chorus
trickled and rippled over gentle currents.
Now my tree was not a grand tree,
but there was one branch that leaned over the stream,
whilst the rest stood tall and proud
blowing in the breeze.
I’d lie back on the cushioned arm of friendship,
watch the birds and breathe….
Hours could pass
gazing into crystal tipped ripples,
drifting into the flowing reflections
that came before me in silent wonder.
But the years past.
Eyes grew tired with the ambiguity of life.
Neither in nor out
cat and mouse chase,
enough to dishearten
the most patient of saints
river bank grass grew taller,
as reflections faded in the clouded undercurrent
of stumbling rocks that muddied waters.
No longer clear stream thinking,
just broken flows of empty hope
and before we could say goodbye,
your branches were replaced
by streetlights and fag packets
cementing new foundations
over ancient roots.
So its funny that I should think of you today.
Lying flat over tree branch streams
reflecting back on all I saw
from childhood dreams,
knowing our time spent together
was a good thing.
As you may not be there anymore
but the roots we shared
help me to breath
the reflections of all I see.
Growing in rippling hope
of my own crystal tipped river.
Flowing forevermore, eternally engrained in the rings of our ancient core.
We drove through the night to greet you.
You met us with the sound of silent trumpets as you rose to our eye.
You were magnificent! majestic!
clouds suspended in orange blooms
as your fullness lit the sky.
Life giving energy soaking into skin,
as we sang, spoke poetry,
making new friends upon the hill.
We played our parts spectacularly.
Now I lie here basking in the glory of us before you slowly begin to wane.
So thank you for all that you are, your blessings a plenty
as you shine upon us, standing still for the longest time.
Summer Solstice Divine.
I sat on a bench overlooking the pool and thought of you.
I half expected you to walk by and greet me
with your sunny smile as you once would.
Then a man came and stood directly in front of my view.
Of all the places he could of chose,
he stood right there, where I could no longer see the ducks.
But the two o’clock song chimed from the spires to disturb my irritation,
and as he stared out across the ripples,
I sensed that he too could be lost in the reflection of thought.
So I let it go and thought,
‘What would you do?’
After a short pause, I silently shimmied down the bench
where together, we could watch the ducks.
The Goddess Sings
Deep in ancient caves, I hear the Goddess sing
It drifts in upon the waves as these walls whisper the secrets of a million years
They tell me what they’ve seen
How many flowers have grown upon them
The voices that have stretched the seas
And I hear her, I hear her sing
She sings for this land
She sings for me
She sings for you
And she sings for the seas
She sings for the hills and the skies up above
She is pure, she is bright, she is
And thought these stories surround us, they won’t always be told
They are still to be found, they are yet to unfold
But if we listen in close enough, you can hear those words sung
For the Goddess she brings them, to where we begun
The Stripy Box
….and then there’s the stripy box I bought
to wrap the belt I dressed in tissue paper
before it tightened his waist
But after the SQueeZE
became too much
I took it back like a surreptitious Indian
gift that shook the hand of an earlier prophecy
As now it holds sympathy cards
and Interflora notes, that greet the most
beautiful picture I treasure
I love my stripy box and the purple pot
that wouldn’t fit in but sits neatly by its side
Cos it holds the remains of a day
where I stood on the river rock
and scattered the ashes
of our incompatibility away
But I didn’t check the wind as I stood there uncertain
before letting him go into the water of my eyes
and all I could do was smile in the bitter sweet taste
‘It doesn’t happen like this in the movies’
But I was glad that it did
The Sea was cold, but I was shore
The waves were steadier than thought
So I waded in, slowly giving thanks for the release
Prayer spoken the moment came to submerge
Diving beneath the horizon into the deep.
Exhilarating! Fresh Breath, taking screams of delight
Laughter of shivers before the warmth set in
Floating with hope
Breast stroke forward
Embrace the poetics of life and always live your dreams.