Thirteen Caduceus

Thirteen Caduceus

Thirteen!
Like the moons in a lunar year
That fit together
Without thought
Or effort
Omnipresent, like all things
In creation -
Our time together
A natural progression
Of spiritual growth
Blending with the waft and wend
Of the infinitely-expanding universe
And the realities of our
Individual lives
Which like a caduceus
Interlink and coalesce
To form a solid seal
Of balance, harmony
And communication
Swift on the wings of
Mercurial flight.
Thirteen years!
The magic of the number
Unlucky for some
Luckier for more
Benediction for us
Moving, flowing, inspiring
The love that shimmers like
A sacred spirit between
Two souls linked
Through time and space
Like a beacon
Across the void, beyond all reason,
Circling around, convening
At our door
Omnipresent and divine
The universal bond
That helps to reveal
That love truly does
Live forever!

(Dedicated to Paul on our 13th anniversary. 23 July 2008)

The Woodland Edge

The Woodland Edge

At the edge of the trees
A great force is building
Swirling around
Blowing, gusting, rising
Pulsing through the ground.
The power of the woodland
A hidden secret strength
Is waiting to pounce
Or be gently teased awake
Depending on who may call.
His antlered head
Camouflaged
Between the oak leaves
Stirs and gently moves
At the woodland edge
Things profound
Are surely stirring
From the musky earthen ground
An ancient sound!
The sound of the ground,
From the ancient sovereign mound
The tones of Summer's pleasure
A sacred and majestic awakening -
Yeah, things are rustling and quivering
At the woodland edge.

Trevaylor Woods, May 2008

Detestable Fools

Detestable Fools

I do not understand this world
Where children kill other children
With knives and guns
And where death threats are issued
Because of with whom
One dares to fall in love?
What is wrong with humankind
With their preaching and their rules
Their holy writs -
Those detestable fools.
What has happened to love -
Where has it gone?
And where are all
Those questioners
And the heretics;
Those brave souls who
Dare to speak their truth
Against governments
Who want to control
Abuse or murder in the
Name of democracy
(In both east and west!)
Is a deathly silence
The price we pay?

The Haunted Abbey

The Haunted Abbey

Beside the tidal flowing seeping
Creeping moving muddy sea
By the jetty the silent sailing
Moon-reflecting secrets
From the ancient creek-side abbey, haunted and
Ruinous beside the wandering
Summer-scented lanes where
Ghostly apparitions manifestations
Stay hidden from the modern-day ghost hunters
Bleeping and buzzing
Creating a symphony of noise
That any silent spirits
Nocturnal wanderings may go unnoticed
Because of all the distractions of
Ringing mobile phones
Wifi hotspots and digital cameras!
But when they have all departed from this
Ancient peaceful portal
The haunted abbey becomes haunted once again
With all the ghostly shimmers
The hazy full moon
Languishly rising over the water
Can create!
As her rippling reflection shines
On the incoming muddy tide
And the soothing darkened starry waters
Lapping against the salty shore,
Where hazel and elder thickets grow, occasionally
Trapping the odd Roebuck or two!
Secret wisdom lies hiding here, just out of reach
To all but those who care to look
By the estuarine haunted abbey
Where the bones of the old ones lie
Mysteriously watching those who
Patiently await!

Penglaz

Penglaz

Bobbing and dancing
Through the old cobbled streets
The 'Obby 'Oss Night-Mare
Bewitches us with a steady drum-beat.
The ghostly white face
Of the 'Oss gathers near
Seeking wisdom
Of the creature's skeletal leer!

The crowd gathers round
Tension mounts, as she rears -
Then a commotion assembles
Snaking Serpent Dance cheer!

Writhing and twisting
Through the narrow dark streets
Down to the docks where
Ancient spirit's of 'Oss-Bucca meet.

Then away in the shadows
Of sinister mock-gothic facade
Torchlit dancing processions light the way
By the old bone-yard.

On the feast of St John
Summer Solstice, mid-year
This Golowan spectacle manifesting
So much joy and fear.

This ancient holy festival
Proves such a delight
It goes on and on through
The fatally short summer night
From it's dark folklore roots
From the long distant past
The mid-summer nights dreaming
It is once again ours!

Penglaz: the Solstice 'Obby 'Oss of Penzance
Photographs copyright Alex Langstone 2008