sky kissed land

In my dreams I always find myself there

Where the sky meets the earth

Mountains flowing up the heavens

The Rivers frozen in place

Ancient pine trees reaching up to the sky and beyond

Seat of the gods

High above to watch over all

Living in my thought, a fragment of my imagination

Giving it life and all its meaning

I long to be there some day

I long to be there some day

Caged

Looking into his eyes
I can feel the pain
The loneliness of pacing up and down
The growl unaswered
The thrill of the hunt long forgotten
No matter how big the cage
It is not his home
the fence the barbed wire
that's all that he has known
the elephant grass long gone
the feel of the soft moist grass
smell of a fresh kill but a distant dream
waiting for the next meal
waiting as a slave
I can feel his pain, the frustration
If there is a hell then this is it
A free spirit trapped in a cage.

The land of magical river

The towering mountains flanking me

The winding river moving to her own rhythm

Basking muggers with their evil grin

The silent rumble of the Tusker

The leopardess moving like the morning mist unheard

I lived here.... the wind screaming freedom

Eagle watching over all from their lofty towers

The white backs circling riding the thermals patiently waiting

We were searching for the mighty beast

We felt his presence more often than not

He was watching us unseen unknown

In his land I was 

I lived here..... Breathing sweating

I lived here...... Coz he let me.  

in the land of the magical river...

The Elephant Song

My Karl Cullen my friend and my brother left this earth On Monday morning 20 May 2013, to continue on his journey. This blog entry is dedicated to him in loving memory.

“In one of the stars I shall be living. In one of them I shall be laughing. And so it will be as if all the stars were laughing, when you look at the sky at night… you– only you– will have stars that can laugh!”

And he laughed again.

“And when your sorrow is comforted (time soothes all sorrows) you will be content that you have known me. You will always be my friend. You will want to laugh with me. And you will sometimes open your window, so, for that pleasure… and your friends will be properly astonished to see you laughing as you look up at the sky! Then you will say to them, ‘Yes, the stars always make me laugh!’ And they will think you are crazy. It will be a very shabby trick that I shall have played on you…”

And he laughed again.

“It will be as if, in place of the stars, I had given you a great number of little bells that knew how to laugh…”



~ the Little Prince

And her name was Love...

She came broken twisted

weighed down by who she was forced to be

by who she thought she was

she sought comfort I gave her courage

she was looking for shelter I threw her to the elements

she grew I loved her for it

with her, on her road to self discovery I found joy

I got to know myself better

I lost her in the end but kept the moments

she gained freedom I found insight

fleeting though the moments with her she gave me all

the joy a story the laughter over a shared smoke

I welcomed her in to my world

but she had to leave early

the story ended the Magik remained

My Road to Ithaca

shoes are worn out

will last they said

backpack straps are digging into my shoulder

Rubbing it raw till the skin starts to peel

sun is bright, bright and intense, hurting my eye

hot sand picked up by the wind is hurling into my face

pricking it, bruising it

lips chaffed, dry, bright crimson drops starts to show through the cracks

Finishing of the last few drops of water

To quench the thirst, to ease the pain in my parched throat

still have miles to go

Before I reach my Ithaca

when I land on her shores, bruised I might be

But would have learnt all that there is 

experienced life as it is meant to be.....

Endless Drifters

The wind carrying the resonance of the gong

Ethereal sound of the conch enveloping

Moving

soul freed, gently drifts away

The crying the pain the loss all fading away

Sound of distant rumble, thunder rolling

monotonous bang of the pile driver

honking and the bickering

cremation workers haggling for a few tenners more

Nothing can drown out the truth

That our stories too have an end! 

wake-up

Morning coffee peeling away my sleep
Sun is just starting to peek ever so subtly
Over the distant tree tops
fully woken up by the sound of jostling trains
and vendors hawking myriad things
My day has started on railway platform
In some nondescript station.
The journey continues...

Sutured-Up

I took a needle and threaded it with truth

And started to sew the pieces together,

Every flaw, every mistake.

I sew them all together

Like a patch work quilt

Every good every attribute

I started taking shape

All the nuances and the imperfections

Complete and perfect

I didn't make me to be judged

But to be tested, to be tempered

By the elements of my world

By chance and by my free will

I am a work in progress

Always will be

Every fall; every flight

Just an event in this endless

Discontinuous experience

That which I call life

My life and I hold no one else

 Man or god responsible for it