Feeds:
Posts
Comments

Dhrupad 8 (honeysuckle)

June 9, 2018 by simonhlilly

2018/06/p1170290.jpg

DHRUPAD 8 (honeysuckle)

June, June now.
Elder, elder opens, opens out creamy sky cloud fragrant
and so too they drift drift drift, these hills,
the pale hills the bright hills the sunlit hills the star shadowed waiting hills. Drift slow and slow,
coming green coming all coming again.
Weave and throne song singing softly,
the clouds pile a sky hurray.
A thick slow drift, and the thin
slow rivers and the fast stormy rivers and the warm
sun waters and the honey thick shaded waters.
Green light now, green, and sudden roses
bloomed and falling, purple petals, sudden slow shifts.
High hills rise up and skylarks
and the thirsty climbing beans and vines and peas and bindweed.
And the honeysuckle the honeysuckle
blood red buds and dreaming of sweetness.
Twist and climb. Twist and curl and hold
tight as a baby’s fist
here, we are here,
we are close and tumbled and held and lovely.
All all climbed and stretching and together
and growing tall, tall
into the tall
throbbing skies.

—

Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , | 2 Comments »

The Spoils of Annwn

June 6, 2018 by simonhlilly

SPOILS OF ANNWN

Neb kyn noc ef nyt aeth idi –
Y’r gadwyn tromlas kywirwas ketwi

It is a soughing, is a sighing lament
a lament of oarstrokes, of labour
against a tidal fate, the rip-tides of honour,
of pride, of battle, of world’s collapsing.
It sings so with a heavy heart
the cracked glass of memory saying
all was lost, save us, and we returned lost:
the dark roads, the impenetrable fortresses,
the keening wind, the scent of snow and blood.

‘How many saints are there in the void?

May I not endure this sadness…’

And the roaring waves turning back
Drawn tight against the ripped sky
Banded, wheeled, armoured rings
And the horror of it is not even that darkness.
Inside these fortress rocks the lost echoed songs of the forever lost,
Transformed aching nothing twisted to silence
The thousands lost just trying, just looking,
The hinged doors screaming, the invisible worlds
Shuddering and refusing us their air, their shade.

Save seven, none came back.

Their air is not our air, their life and death not ours
To grasp at feathers and find fingers shredded to bone,
To look into eyes that look beyond days and nights.
And the ghosts of thought growing bold, and the doubts
That our good is not good, our right, a trespass unforgivable.
There was terrible beauty that cared nothing for us,
That would not let us rest or pass, terrible is such truth.

Unutterably shifted between worlds, gone, never returned.
Chaff words and book learning all shallow things
Now our eyes have been seared with countless strangenesses.

May I not endure this sadness.

—

Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 14 Comments »

Dhrupad 7 (winding road)

May 27, 2018 by simonhlilly

2018/05/img_3115.jpg

DHRUPAD 7 (winding road)

A, re, ne, na. Look, look now.
A drift of words, drifting clouding by the light dark dismal gentle day.
I could I could reach out to touch or let them
let them slide away, té te re ne na,
way into the green rain, moss rain, fern green
glorious dip and swell and steam rising rain.
Where and here the hills fade and curtain,
and the trees one by one come and go in the green heavy rise of rain
and day May blossom fingers the hedge
the cowslip sliding clouds nodding down a yes and a no
and a heavy cool falling air
the steam the mist of it rising up
a smudge green and golden and clouds on top,
and below the lonely empty road winding lost and humming between the hill hedge and sweeping swooping swallows
Ri re re ne na,
and the larks on their nest,
the sky to float upwards in, no sky today,
It is all falling blessings on dry earth
and thirsty work for plants this fast, fierce growing.
Look look there is nothing
yet words float
world words
floating in white distance,
cloud world,
word vapour. Look.
Te ne toom ne.
—

The syllables sprinkled throughout are the traditional mantra, said to derive from Sama Veda, used by singers of dhrupad in their alap (slow development phase), instead of words.

Posted in Uncategorized | 2 Comments »

Gaza Tears

May 24, 2018 by simonhlilly

GAZA TEARS

All the poets are away at war.
We are left with birdsong and silence to sit between.

And the drip of the rain from the eaves
And the scurry of rats in the woodpile.

Beyond the shattered bones and oil-soaked rags, we are told,
There is a golden world fashioned by eloquent tongues,
Self-appointed and righteous.

Still, we burn here in sunless dark.
Freedom is a bitter word.

—

Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , | 1 Comment »

Dhrupad 6 (May river)

May 21, 2018 by simonhlilly

Dhrupad 6 (May river)

They will fall down into their own rivers, these words these sentences finding their own surface will settle for a familiar winding light in warm beds slowly downwards to their own sighing roaring silence. Though they are not nor ever have been mine to give, you have them now flowing on from this to that a single seamless thread gathered from the highest open grasslands, gathered from just below the sky the slow drip down the vast vast vast drip down of water towards a centre of word, towards a winding tongue a weaving mind weaving sky and sound, skin and sky a story river sky river down to story silver river….

Only there, there, where the people have sunk into the land singing their stone memory bones, grey weathered on ridge shrouded elder clouds, something home death something home small cooing death, nature death smell, cream smooth death mother humming bees smell, humming stars death smell, secret curve woman death star bone smell, life death star death cooking smell. Only where the words have turned to winds and wind to rain, and bracken shields the adder’s tangle in the warm vast moist morning, the vast mist morning of the criss cross and spiral morning, of the tangled spiral adder’s tongues honey soft morning. Only where the red kites wheel and the buzzards on their watching posts watching down the old quiet roads, the rocking cracking moment by moment roads footstep views and sound sound river bird and breeze roads, the sudden view shift roads, the next last corner roads, the lost remembering roads.

Only on the beginningless roads beginning now now again sprung from grass now flowering grass now cowslips now bluebells now now the white sprinkled roads and the naughty weighted scented hawthorn heavy aired hedged about and field threaded and in the shades the holy blue the holy white the holy blood pink campion splatter and the enunciation of curly topped fern fingers finding licking tasting airy edge and warm soft soil and all and a round world edge a round world edge a round sun filled edge honey edged May in lanes and long low spiral lands and lolling loping hills folded around the fingers of the oak oh the old oak uplands upwards old and upwards the silence and psalms of spiral havens daylight to dusk to stars lit to keep off the cold cold space of silence somewhere else somewhere other rivers fall slowly down slowly drift and they will fall down too into their own rivers, these stars bright hiss finding their own surfaces, winding light just as if just as if and the adder’s ridge and the elder’s curve and the bones of morning in the warm beds of May and the mother humming and the vast, the vast the vast

Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , , , , , | 2 Comments »

Psyche/Biology/Geography

May 20, 2018 by simonhlilly

PSYCHE/BIOLOGY/GEOGRAPHY

Bone words articulate me.
I clothe myself with wonders,
taking to myself the wrappings
of delight. There are strange beings
with familiar names folded
into memories, the voices from
drowsy Sunday afternoons.
We have cast off from mystery
searching deeper cauldrons
to feed us and make us whole.
There was never one moment
when our insistent shadows
did not mimic us. Starlight,
moonlight and the silence
of hills, our rills and rivers
cannot abide, but must tumble
and roar like warriors into conflict.
The finest webs that have caught us,
giving us names and constraining us
we have overlooked. The whispered voice
upon our skin, a breath we abide within,
a quiver of light, a curl of
reflected brightness, the jingle
of harnesses
in an old
story.

—

Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , , | 2 Comments »

Dhrupad 5 (bluebells)

May 18, 2018 by simonhlilly

2018/05/img_2772.jpg

DHRUPAD 5 (bluebells)

Shimmers so
there,
unlikely unsky
sky,
woven down by green air
in the water washed wood
and the cherry sound
of chiffchaff chiffchaff,
chaffinch, twig twitter song.
Glory, glory, the deepest blue but not,
but violet but not,
but smudged heaven taste beyond eyes,
cell washed deep sound,
a sound even lying on it all,
lying across it all.
A sky blanket sun dipped.
Kingfisher blue, as if,
sudden flash blue, as if,
floating violet pink haze blue.
There
not there.
In passing flicker flicker from
a deep seen somewhere else,
from a silent safe mind springing up
with smiles.
Language unwrapped,
unfolded, spread open,
smoothed
there now, there now,
sun at last
sun at last,
sun, at last!
we shall push on push up
take colour become
come ring sound
and swing down singing
down the slopes,
a tumble bells sighing sound,
swaying dance a deeper dance,
down down the deeper sky,
sunless starless moonless,
a sea sky
footsteps
footsteps
the wooded
wooded
bluebell
way.

—

2018/05/img_2792.jpg

2018/05/img_2790.jpg

Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , | 4 Comments »

Sapphire

May 16, 2018 by simonhlilly

SAPPHIRE

Evening hills
cracked sapphire.

Gods made them so
in the peace of sure weightlessness.

A north wind, though,
that clears the sky

and will make these shorter nights
moon bright and bitter,

will hold the bowing bluebells
in bud a day or two yet.

—

Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , , , | 1 Comment »

Dhrupad 4 ( windy day)

May 14, 2018 by simonhlilly

2018/05/img_2863.jpg

DHRUPAD 4 (windy day)

Green rain, green air,
wind cool with doves,
cooing with doves and,
it could be, cuckoos,
it could, it could be cuckoos
between the mother calling
and the lamb’s reply.
A slide down to the sea
is the river task,
the river fast brown rain full
spinning away downstream
daffodils fading, cherry blossom confetti,
bless you, bless you,
and the blackthorn a rimed white now,
a pure white now,
a white that clears and seals the eye, now.
And the surprising green of elm seeds
hanging high and leaning down the road,
wood elm, secret elm, mountain elm.
And a new day ripped with blue,
healed with rain and healed again.
The light and soft
racing the dips and darkened woodlands.
And in the valley it could be a cuckoo,
it could.
And the dip and rise
and screech of swallows’ circumference,
their wheel and compass
the round wind and blue sunlight
and a deeper height to it all now,
a dancing deeper height to it.
Open blue winds,
the opening, the year, the seed.
The brighting day
in this flurrying
wind rush.
—

Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a Comment »

Dhrupad 3 – blackbird song

May 11, 2018 by simonhlilly

2018/05/img_3063.jpg

DHRUPAD 3 (blackbird song)

Blackbird rain, blackbird river,the rich so rich evening cool air, evening rich scent air, blackbird still river standing cool. Pines whisper the breeze the breeze the slide knife heart song thrills, mellow knife heart knife song. Rounded world voice river now ripple now voice. Apple rounded, juice voice, drip drip drip voice, echoed stone voice, remembering voice, saying floating cool rain voice. Golden smooth and jet black shiny voice. Rain split, rainbowed wrapped twist thread, weaving woven gold and gilded through and through, this warm this cool this water clear air song voice moment. Stopped and started time held and space thrilled, sun and moon and stars all, all named together, one river named, one moment twirled named, this river sorrow joy river, this eye opening out, vast vast this throb, this little throat, this heart, heart full, rain washed, cool washed, all washed, voice river, named.

—

Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , , , , , , | 1 Comment »

« Newer Posts - Older Posts »