One January, I saw the Spring outside, with a pickaxe in her hand. She stood there in her Boticelli gownIndustrial gloves pulled onHands on hipsLong handled axe hung down at side And she surveyed the sceneWith piercing eye. “Those trunks need scrubbing;And the frost from every boughAnd leaf must be scraped off.. No slacking now!…
This reed pen is joy,traversing water and stone, trailing destiny. How can the dark dustLearn the Holy Tongue and speakOf our ecstasy? Faith in the bright wordsRadiant without gold or wealthBurns us to cinder. Sarah de Nordwall 2010
Even the explosion of an atom bombMakes no impact on a mind that’s closed. When it’s locked on the inside,Fastened in fear,The thoughts that you’ve proposed,Sound wild and vicious as the force 9 galeThat blows down the turretsAnd sweeps in the hail. So when you hear the hollow shockAnd a breathless gasp as you gently…
Walking in the fields,You find the way. No pathBut here an almond treeThe nut-shell greenAnd soft like cheap velour. Delightful But the taste is bitter. The amazing factThat here, yes, in this very fieldA shepherd boyWith a single sling-shotKilled Goliath Philistine insurmountable,The terror of the Jews. Walking through the orchardWhere the furrowed soil is dryYou…
Grief and sorrow like a long sword slew the dragon The blade removed No mark was left behind Like a bloodless sacrifice Stillness at the death of the monster of the deep And the sea returns to wholeness The patient walks again Grief and sorrow have Destroyed in me The whirlwind of the day One…
The true drama is not this surface tension. It lies beyond within the Calm below Where life and Glory Await Immersion Exploration and the capacity to Receive a never-ending Joy. Delight is the True Drama. January 14th 2011
A man on a goat farm in Israel had told me About a rabbi Who knew everything about the 12 levels of being. I sensed they were badly needed here in London. So when he went to the Holy land again I asked him to bring them back for me. He was worried about getting…
Once upon a time the Bard or court poet was worth the King’s ransom. His commission was to speak truth without fear, and to entertain everyone from the peasant to the King. To make this task easier, in 8th Century Ireland, they had Bard Schools – to teach the poets to be as astute as…
This is my new blog. Here you will find a new poem every single day, so do follow along and receive what I hope will inspire you to reflect, enjoy and create for yourself. I’m looking forward to hearing your thoughts and responses, poems and questions. Leo & Claire are my web designers(you can see their portfolio…
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