Everyday Impressions: Gravehill Winter

Pines of scent humble soar
Sky like blue in pieces adore

Over collected woods somewhere far
Bright burned a winter’s day
Whose warmth lay to rest
Fallen angels of silver frost

From crowns, barks, and blades rose
Pine perfume in vapour lore
To early wakers, bills and tits,
Buzzing thicket chirps…

Francolins alarmed and barbet appalls
Cheerful parakeets praise
First walkers of the day

Oil in hair and gleaming eyes
Pair of legs determined climb
Steep stony trails in grey
Some with mules always grace
Fresh morning grass as brace…

Then some loners stroll
Counting photographs at speed
Others always at peace
Who walk on fours at night
Find secrets to hide…

Maybe tomorrow we’ll come early
Or the evening, when they’re empty…

The air now dry
Breezes drift clean
Silence fades in
Glory of gold on brown
Shades of green beam

Quietly at rest on noon
Speeding motors, endless lines
Music mostly thumping bass
Teenage bikers also race
Some laughs and curses
Others sullen and gazes…

Occasionally candles and flowers
Fresh graves are made
But all withdraw begins
Gradual as the sun sinks

Gates keep open
Visitors all day
Fires now and smokes
Spirts in the high
Couples made love
Music made songs
Words made stories

Evening hasn’t yet set in
There’s dying light to hold
Those five women haven’t returned
Surely late today
Martins are out to play

Crimson yellow in biting chill
Denser silence develops
Nobody moves to breezes
Swept clean of sound
This cold winter day

Then a wood hammer struck thrice
Soft brass resonance
Crescendos of sharp bells
The women roll back
Heaps of grass on heads
With murmurs escaping tongues

Prayers at the Parsonage and women
Depart at the same pace
Dead lay Gravehill as sleep
Nothing was heard thereafter
But wise, the moon did see
How silver shone the trees…


Longing to touch

Longing to touch

Perhaps all matters of art spring from a hypnotic longing tending towards touching an inhabitance of sublime in our nurtured presence. Although sublime, by virtue of its differentiation in degrees, shapes itself into forms, that often of its character speak, … Continue reading


Creatures among great and lone
Forest swell in shades so long
As a fire hungry within
Desires to wash again
Eyes forever, in her perfume drenched
To speak questions between tales
For a ship in relational field
Sings somewhat to echo please
In my channels hail odyssey
Wishful upon a moon midnight
And fragrances from stars
Our lips mostly hiss
Wonder after wonder
How beautiful it seems
To be fascinated, yet able
In words of verse and dare
To your heart’s content
And to mine resonance trace
Each of which I breathe in
Repeat and repeat furthermore
As all of you for me chose
A few pictures here and there
Some careless, others full of hate
And the rest conspired in jealously
Spin often quite loud as ever
Churns from centre to spread
In silent nights where I scream
Possibly woken from a dream
Where will you put this shadow?
Under the pillow or tooth fairy?
For yearning reaching skies again
To find us among stars
Dust in our eyes gleam
Perhaps some winter fire
Drums to chanting voices
I hear outside the window
Among them seated, I find
Ponder to wonder all exhausted
Just a guilt sodden head in play
For I am you and you are me
Where do we find a place to be?
Come find me a sacred dream
Where we dance again
Seeded in golden silk
To breeze this heart beats.



From sudden a frail echo
Of the voice in scent once known
Forlorn in heavens speaker roar
As they sat silent in stools made
Finest hairs and glasses fair
Towards sanitised a cultural remain
Of once this scent in woods known
Songs of mist and desire
Lost eternal in speeches
Fire below as curtains stare
For outside our forest blaze
In chapters now tread
One after the other my call
To witness another ear
As the heart might skip a beat
To your eyeless twitch breeze
Then foremost beauty I hold
To speak in devil’s name
My body to its share
Divided in tongues
That often in wines drench
Dancing to the air in a cave
And truth be told before fire
That my chalice forever empty
Full of nothing, always overflow
Down the mountains, waterfalls as such
Lagoons soaked in handkerchiefs
Resonates peace all over again
Then finest a glory shaped today
Folding arms to arms again
None but spirits resume
The fire born now
In a richer perfume…



Fill in the blank(s)

Somewhere in contrast our bodies soar
Journey that had its day made
Available in wishful contention
Another one to the right, forced call
Had been weary of slumber forgotten
Where I refuse to be sane
Your judgements of mushy frame
This picture has a name
In that forest, as intimacy loomed
A textual being in words resume
Of worship and strong purpose
Spatial your breath always consume
Mists and finer curtains
Behind which our formed eyes close
Best kept secrets in darker dwellings
Dancers made of smoke
And angels in water spring
Where lone my griffon hankers
The night in wings made of fire
Screech certain a sound once
Over your ears that escaped
Borrowed again from tradition
What we call religion of shame
Force then to dissolve
As my eyes fixed tremble
In faith that had been
To your echoes, I bend
For night you had contained
In contamination of your will
To pronounce matters as just
I depart the resounding veil
Dry as ever could have been
For that beast you had mentioned
Stung as if from medicine needle
Promising chapters and chapters of health
But beneath strong purpose as taught
Saw seated comfortably again
How smokes to heights expand
Then tired rains welcome doom
Figments of smoke in whole
To the ground desperately thrash
As if prophesying a bright sunny day
If that is how it is meant to be
I don’t see to what decree
Then matters, beyond the frame we choose
Uncomprehended and delightfully new
Wishes our bodies in shape curtail
Rectangles and finer squares
To roots then define
Every step in yonder direction
Spelled out in lustful names
Forget not the griffon soars
Eyeing your worship and prey
To settle its hunger another day.