A shout defies

He cannot be denied.
The hedge, silent as an ancient grave,
waits in anticipation,
shadows stand ready to be cast
the Oaks and Willows
knowingly watch.

He has been bound.

Hemp wrapped wrist prevent his stride,
standing forward
chiseled features
focused ahead,
towards her.

She is hidden.

Placed behind a woven mesh her features masked,
she is powerless to reach him,
instead she touches him with her gentle words
embraces with her sweet voice
loves in her passionate dreams.

A shout defies.

And with sweat and sinew and pain the hemp is snapped
shaking hands reach to the mesh
preparing to rip the veil to shreds
he pauses, totally aware of the woman
will she retreat.

It is time.

Those once hidden in this hedge afar now silently watch
as the mesh is violated, discarded,
and two blind lovers cast virgin sight upon the other
he stands forward to embrace,
and the woman...

Awakening

The restless wind chases spirited fairies
past the briars and bushes,
solemn Willows relax their boughs
gracefully caressing the cool stream,
the Sun's final kiss paints long shadows,
hues shifting from green to gray.

A man alone is silent witness to days passing...

The gathering chorus of nights sweet verse
sings a cappella in melodic sonnet,
they fear not the intruder who now stands as stone
for it is within their dream he has merged,
the distant owl, a questioning sort,
inquires of whom this is that joins their chorus.

Gentle winds cool the tears upon his face...

With curious nods they follow his stride
to rough hewn granite in peaceful rest,
now upon his knee, with shoulders low,
a single hand laid upon the stone,
and whispers are shared
as the darkness grows.

Silent murmurs scatter throughout the night...

The restless wind stirs groggy fairies
awakening upon the lilies in the stream,
stretching Willows reach to soft blue skies,
morning songs ripple from the currents flow,
the Sun's awakening call erases the nights shadows
from the lifeless man prone upon the ground.

Somewhere, a kiss as shared between two lovers, forever now joined..

Do you hear the drums beating

still not the drums
from distant hedge
they call to us
of prose and pen

and gather we
as twilight sighs
no longer but words
but face meeting eyes

and strip from your flesh
your veils of cloth
and naked stand
your passions sought

feel the sweet heat
from cedar ablaze
as sweat pours forth
in this smoky haze

and the drums grow bolder
as the flute joins in
and the dance grows frenzied
in what fools would call sin

we drink from the sweat
of the flesh born of heat
ah a poets nectar
it does taste so sweet

the women of words
who have long graced this corner
now touching their passions
with nothing to fear

and the men who seek them
with bodies now seared
are joined in their passions
as their sweat bear no tears

and the poets do dance
this dance born of years
for a poets pen weeps
of their longing and fears

and as the winds sing
of seasons in change
we have but one dance
in this hedge far away

so still not the drums
from distant hedge
for they call to us all
of prose and the pen

From the mist

She came to me from the mist.
Ah crystalline shroud that hovers ever so delicately,
caressing the most soil
while vaporous waifs are drawn,
tentacle like, towards nights
brilliant orb.

Silent orb that draws the waters
to soil's refuge,
she was as one with the moons mysteries,
timeless fascination upon mans
ignorant eyes.

Cobalt eyes that drew me towards her
hesitant not I gaze unto the radiance
drawn as if from some deep well
where clear, cool, spring water awaited
the touch of my lips.

Her lips met mine for a brief eternity.
forces of tender passion too strong
to relay with the phonetic utterance of tongue,
whirlwinds of colored emotion
sheath us.

To us the stars become as whitened stones upon the stream
and our hearts dance to the flute,
sweet, lilting, notes brush lightly through
her golden hair like a
whispered voice.

Her voice heard in a silent souls embrace,
"My timeless love you will know passion
as other men know sight. And you will
give yourself to love without doubt,
foolishly brave."

"And brave love your companion will also be despair.
For only those who know despairs bitter taste
can savor the succulent fruit of the vine.
And time will shed the pain like some
reptilian scales."

"As scales of the balance you shall be given
equal measure, but none in moderation.
For a poet cannot moderate life's ebbs and flows,
do the waves cease their rush to the shore
in fear of the crash upon
the stones?"

Polished stones she offered to me as she drifted back.
Quartz, Sapphire, Jade, Onyx I then held,
warmly glowing upon my calloused hand.
Runic symbols scared the brilliance of each
Celtic knot.

"Forget not this gentle embrace for I leave you never.
Live not in the joys of things no longer, instead,
shine light upon the darkness of things to be.
And taste each sweet breath that is given
in your souls dance."

She dances upon the cresting waves, this muse of mine,
who kissed my soul so very long ago.
And some tranquil nights when darkness rest
I hear again her voice
in our souls embrace...

Loki's loose

It is the silence first who is aware of the waking,
one thousand years they have slept,
safe in Valhalla's chambers,
comforted in the warm embrace of snow's cover

Each stretch is bellowed to the valley below
like cats rising from a warm nap they reach,
extremities tingle as strong hearts regain tempo,
clear eyes snap open...

Odin's thunderous step echoes in majestic halls
as he seeks his companions from their rest he does call,
from room beyond he hears Thor's hammer tested upon granite
in distant land a machine records the tremor.

Rejoined again they stand upon balcony firm
arctic winds tear at their leathered faces
cold eyes stare at the world beyond
a world that has changed

In vast cities of concrete and stone
swarms of people scurry about
yet each is alone in the crowds,
they know not the scent of their brother.

It is Thor who points to the sluggish men
as they sit in their little tin boxes
with the effort of a babe they speed faster
in this game of children that they play

He is bewildered at homes they enter with pride
built not with their hands and sweat,
but the hands of strangers they will never know,
indebted till death to the money changers

It is the women whom Odin does watch,
trying to be equal to the foolishment of men
castrating lovers like tramps in the taverns
then wondering why they sleep in cold beds.

He marvels at the lies, spoken freely as fast
before the alters of their Gods
and laughs at the confusion
when all falls apart.

With words not spoken both Odin and Thor
return to their chambers in a time long before,
for they know in their hearts born of wisdom and time
that this too will soon crumble, and men will be men.

Nordic eyes

The sweat streams down my near nude body,
pouring over tanned flesh,
drenching my hair as if freshly showered
in a salt filled bayou.

Leathered hands hold tightly to the weathered ax handle,
the blade singing as each stroke is laid upon the chosen wood,
felled from ancient stock,
sacrifice to the flames hunger.

I pause,
I wait,
I see,
I remember.

Deep in the fires dance a call is uttered,
from within, from without,
from time before,
from a place known and not.

I see the shimmer, the rip in times gossamer veil,
an unending chain of cells from mother to mother to mother to son
I see him in the dark oranges and reds of the flame,
his cells, now my own.

Blue Nordic eyes stare out from his leathered face,
his beard wildly peppered and course,
mine trimmed and salted,
our eyes could be as one for they are born of the same cells.

He stands erect, his muscled body reflects scars earned from his labors,
a tan thong bearing a single stone dangles from his neck,
the amulet bears the sign of Raido, the Journey,
the attainment of the union of that is above and below.

I understand, for my life is but a journey,
seeking all that may be found with a passion for truth,
for knowledge, for love,
for life.

I see the smile in his eyes that reflects understanding,
and in that moment the creases in his face deepen,
he becomes as bent, his beard now white,
yet his blue eyes shine with the light of a newborn.

And I understand,
yes,
I understand that I,
I am his newborn.

And his journey continues still,
with each step I take,
each breath fills his lungs,
each bead of sweat his own.

And I wonder,
was this vision for me to understand my course,
or was it for him,
to know that his course stayed true...

Past hauntings now ash

Soft winds are stilled in this hallowed place
hidden from our sight.
The hedge grove deep, dark and still,
a stranger to days light.

Yet come they will, this blessed Clan,
traditions to be held,
and sound the horn, strike the drum,
and raise the tarnished bell.

For torches flare with bitter scent,
the fires to be lit.
While one by two the grove is filled,
all carry a simple gift;

the Camomiles bloom, a Lavender stem,
a swig of Pine and Hemlock,
are offered now with ancient chant,
and laid in fresh pine box.

When all have passed with gift of choice
and silence fills the grove,
the gray one takes this box of pine,
now filled with memories chosen.

And blessed be the words he chants
yet heard by none now graced,
this box of memories now is tossed
into the fires embrace.

Ah fragrance sweet upon our lips
does rise as flames consume.
And memories wished no longer for
are banished in woodland tomb.

Children with hair of fire's tint
now dance in robes of tatters,
while laughter fills this silent grove
from all now present gathered.

For memories can in times of joy
be comfort to one's soul,
yet some can haunt the brightest day
and take a cursed toll.

And in this place not far away
dark memories can be laid,
and once again can laughter ring
while children in joy can play...

Scattered tribe

In ancient days
of future known
our tribe was gathered
with magic bold.

The day grew long
with dance and mead
and evenings breath
carried wisdoms seed.

And the storied man
from days before
now draws us closer
as the flames do soar.

Through the soot and smoke
and fires dark
his eyes draw light
his words are stark.

He speaks to us
of silence born
the inner gifts
will be no more.

Our eyes will be blinded
to the light between leaves
our senses grow dim
our spirits will leave.

As a gossamer veil
that covers the face
instincts now mute
knowledge takes its place.

And the earth will grow cold
the trees loose their song
our mysteries will fade
the journey be long.

And the seer, the sooth,
the shaman and witch
will fade to the crowd
unknowingly rich.

While the earth spins its turn
and days into years
rebirth and rebirth
our time drawing near.

And we walk among men
with eyes seeing all
for the seeds are reborn
the veil does now fall.

Though our tribe has dispersed
and the hedge is long gone
to a place we now gather
our souls will be drawn.

And the earth will remember
the mysteries once shared
our gifts now restored
for those who will dare.

Prepare the rosemary,
and evergreen boughs
place the knife in the soil
for the spirits aroused.

And look to the other
as you walk down the street
for in the eyes of the stranger
our tribe you will meet.

Silent muse

'Tis Autumns breath cross distant field
that stirs the meadow brown,
in hedge grove bare of springs bouquet
near Yeats bones to be found.

the drums are heard by those who care
and joined in promises made,
a fallen soul, a silent muse,
to the dirt he will be laid.

and the song of the flute will lead the dance
of those that now remain,
the notes drift high, and low, and far,
embracing those that came.

the fire sparks crystals of amethyst and blaze
from rosewood and willows fuel,
the setting sun now cast away,
and darkness comforts the few.

and the soil accepts the offered muse,
as fodder for the poets pen,
for she knows in wisdom born of time,
this soul will rise again.

as do the dancers who spin and laugh,
no morning will be shared,
for a poets pen lays not still long,
before it sings once more.