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Posts Tagged ‘Autumn’

DAY DISSOLVING

Falling waters,

thread white,

tumbling.

.

from that small distance,

the wheeling raven,

soundless.

.

So woven together

are the layers of the day:

a plaid of wind ripples the lake surface,

as if it were about to say something.

.

we shall dissolve

from light

into light.

.

slowly, slowly

down the side of Y Garn

roll clouds

mixed with sunlight.

.

the view

slides sideways

and is erased.

there is a new silence

that comes

just before the rain.

.

this season-

a balance point

clustered at branch tips.

.

we shall dissolve

from light

into light.

.

on dark smudged slopes,

the shout

of purple heathers.

a scree of broken moments,

small enough

to commit to memory.

.

falling waters

woven together.

moments such as these

make and melt worlds.

.

we shall dissolve

from light

into light.

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DHRUPAD 23 ( Pema Özer in Autumn drift)

Slow slow slowly now

slowly now taste the shapes the sounds as they form

as they fall as they flow slow with the colours of autumn

slow the autumn falling slow to mists and coming going coming mists

slow no need to seek the means the meaning to move on.

Sun will not set sun will not rise sun standing still at midnight at midday

as if as if that sage, enjoying his beer enjoying the warmth of a lazy afternoon

dusty road in the mountains distant waterfalls sheep bleating

stop stop stop the sun and hold it there, slow slow to savour moments

out of inside of within wrapped up in time time time, the breath slow slow,

the words slow slow, the same the same the same, but not exactly not precisely,

not a landscape flickers by a landscape moulded forgot seen forgot seen seen

inhabited become sun-filled,

and the trees all autumn and slow breath, fall of leaves and drifting mists

and star-filled, star-filled, the river roaring darkness like that, like that,

that is like this, like this, slow slow unfolding with no end a measured walk

a stroll another beer,

watching time relax

and stay a while

.

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SHADOWS

These lines – the chiselled shadows of words.

Consonants moth-whispered, vowels, lichen-grown.
.

A sunlit porch and laughter.

.
Light swings round the mountain

throwing a cooling shadow

across wood and field.

.
Ghosts do not tip-toe here.

As if they own the place, as if they always have,

Squeezing us between regret and reminiscence,

stained by poetry, small life blooming

on cold fallen hearths.

.
Their lilt of names and

who lived where

and who they loved

and who they hated,

whose sheep on which pasture,

whose son left and lost in another war,

whose daughter run off to a bigger life.

.
Pipesmoke and murmurs,

paraffin and oiled rags.

.
The long light stretches between October trees.

In the cities the streetlights flicker on.

On the farms ashes raked,

Cold stoves chivied back to life.

Small lives shadowed by greater things.

.
The chink of tools, the warm scent of sawdust.

.
A gentle downward slope into night.

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Rests Lightly

RESTS LIGHTLY

My heart rests lightly

on this wind.

It dips and bobs

and lets go

tumbling in the passing light

rolling off the gradients

of the seasons.

Fragments of rainbows come and go

piercing time with beauty

– a reminder.

The leaves too, dance and let go,

and green slides off the hills

to settle in sheltered places.

Bracken turns quick gold

then long reds.

Air spiced with things losing names

becoming something else,

becoming earth.

The willows dance,

the poplars dance all silver,

the birches, gilded.

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Tumbling

TUMBLING

My heart rests lightly

on this wind.

It dips and bobs

and lets go

tumbling in the passing light

rolling off the gradients

of the seasons.

Fragments of rainbows come and go

piercing time with beauty

– a reminder.

The leaves too, dance and let go,

and green slides off the hills

to settle in sheltered places.

Bracken turns quick gold

then long reds.

Air spiced with things losing names

becoming something else,

becoming earth.

The willows dance,

the poplars dance all silver,

the birches, gilded.

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RESTLESS

This mountain sails through its weather

just as it moves through the centuries.

Magnanimous, it shelters all under its shadow.

Infinitely patient, it welcomes all,

Folding their tired dust into that long gaze.

The mountain, settled in its own weight

Breathes whispering streams and roots.

In the garden a robin sings in light rain.

The autumn winds curl the edges of leaves.

Dogs bark, uneasy from their white walled farms.

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Tumbles

TUMBLES

The year tumbles fast now

towards its closing.

Dragon’s breath swathes the hill

In the middle of the morning,

and the grasses lie damp and lank all day.

The sun is distracted, its thoughts elsewhere.

The rivers race through the night with the rumbling stars.

Our moon flicks its light

from dim to sharp to dim.

Days of storm follow days of cold still calm.

Growth stutters and halts,

the trees reach for their golds and browns.

Plans compress or are abandoned.

What is not done, now can wait.

The fires are lit in dark mornings now.

The fires are all lit.

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Larches

The way colours remain long into the grey autumn.

The way the hanging cones resemble syllables

Lingering on the tongue’s tip,

Or kanji haiku brushed carefully careless.

The way these larches let go and dance

On pale cooling hills.

The way images blur and smudge but remain themselves:

Brushstrokes of careless, magnified light.

An autumn aesthetic: nostalgic patterns floating.

Delicacy and decay: look close and the world

Disappears into light.

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DHRUPAD 22 (empty)

Empty,

emptied the skies,

unwoven by soaring diving swallows suddenly not there

suddenly silent as the still silvered edged trees,

dusted time-dusted, picked out in the

more slanted light suddenly now.

The clouds pouring in now pouring in the winds.

Still warm the sun still warm

though the nights grow cool now.

The days are set,

the days are settled,

they nestle down on quietened fields

in the quiet ripening

fields where the slow pheasants pause

and pick and move on.

There will be the

wheeling words of red kites soon and buzzards soon

their own spells their own

summoning autumn songs

high in the blue and dazzling dazzling heights of

tumbled skies

and the grain nodding heavy

and the hazels winking

and the ash

trees longing to let go,

to let go.

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DHRUPAD 19 (this soil)

Through miles of forest a river wind whispers:
The songs of the living and the dead that they have learned from each other.
There is nothing less than this, there is nothing greater:
This sullen holy soil.

Slow river wind whispers
This sullen holy soil
Sustains us

The hills have dreamed wings and flown away.
In worlds of mist what sustains us now but hope and waiting?
Hiraeth – the dream of what never was and that always has been.
This sullen, holy soil.

This moment, as close to perfection as it is possible to be.
Belonging with nowhere to go, nothing needed, nothing missed.
Home, rested and whole.
This sullen, holy soil.

It weaves and weaves
winds about and strings thread shudders the miles
miles miles of wood and forest pulls gently the surface
the hearts the songs shuddered shuddered soft as bells soft as
as silk bells slipping away away to night valleys slipping down and away
a smooth silk whispering sigh along the long miles all gathered in the spiral here of space and now.
The shh shh of the last breaths of all things
and the first breath quiet
quite the first breaths small tentative but growing growing and pouring
into the world’s bowl. The world’s bowl empty and full resounding resounding the seasons’ reach the soil the soil the layered blanketing dreaming soil.
Slow so it moves so,
slow it moves, slow and low it sounds flow
low flow through it ought it ought reach out reach in through all sliver things flick and swing
rhythm of rock and rime weed water and waste
stretching out out rough roughcast hewn high and heavenwards
threaded the stars path thread the suns light thread the moon as it passes here and here the waters edge the glister spark cold and dancing light.
A day unclothed unclothed and silent
gone on the old paths beyond beyond the point of point and edge
bliss burdened lip silent
bliss stretched out sightless and white holy white formed and vast vast comforted
nothing nothing vast hills of nothing
memorise that word that word what was that word?
Yes yes it was is wordless
heart filled bowl sky empty word yearning still still ever
for ever still a day word a dawn word a starfilled night word a river rush whisper word a world word a world word a world
here this this word now now now word hissing the silence long miles word word feather soft and silk stretched smoothed arched word.
This this speaks the soil.
This how now is says the soil.
Sound full fall found soil. This now, here.
This sullen holy soil.

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