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Posts Tagged ‘moon’

A lovely mist
Swaddles and swathes,
Dissolving the ground.

The chant of it –
An ululation of hilltops,
A thin taste of cloud.

The silent morning,
A slow rolling light,
A gentlest breeze,
A river ripple.

A high
And abandoned moon
Sings up the sun.

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STANDSTILL

Frown-dark hill

Red kite’s raw call

Still valley wood

Snaked silver streams

Low sun shudders.

Thin flask shivered:

One day moon

Necklace silver

Cool stream sliced

Bedded deep

Winter night.

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Too many references to ‘super moon’, only one I saw to Guru Purnima, which is this full moon in July dedicated to all our teachers.

FAST SMOKE (Guru Purnima)

Through a fast smoke of cloud
This golden moon, full as it can be,
Wrapped with light and golden,
Arcs out of sight,
Golden in a golden morning.

From its vastness it has seen the sun,
Seen the day, breathed in light,
Exhaled in fullness.

Absorbed, we are absolved of necessity,
Filled up with ample goodness.
No need to know. Nothing obscured.
Nothing beyond reach.
Enfolded radiant, as this moon.

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I have been looking at this work now and then for a while. Like the soul, (should it exist), this is a work in progress. It takes its ideas from medieval cosmography, where there is a concentric hierarchy of planes and beings extending down from, and up to, the Godhead. A mythic universe, populated with the history of thought and dreaming

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Or do we descend,
Pulled by the centre?
Or split, (not knowing)
Each way seeming the
One, right way,
Disorientated
Or reorientated, lost
Or on the road home,
(Something, something here
Is familiar..)

Centrum mundi

The centre of horizon’s cross,
Hung saviour seeing
All things,
Constrained, speared
By:

Terra
Acqua
Aer
Ignis
Corpus corruptibilis quod est
Quatuor elementa,

This corruptible body
Consisting of four elements.
Corruptible, corrupt, corrupting,
Spinning away ( or towards)
Perfection. Untrustworthy,
Fickle mud rising
Yearning for perfect emptiness.

Then, in their spheres of crystal motion
Each in their turning, each lord of spirits,
Masters of music, ordainers of action,
Gatekeepers, judge and jailors.

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Spera lunae, luna

Chimes she does and roars,
Moon scything time.
Each mother’s mirror,
Queen of slow oceans
Queen of indigo night.
Ever thirsting, drawing moisture,
A mist of dream, a catalogue
Of sorrows whispered in midnight,
A chariot of ice tears, her starry train.

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GOOD FRIDAY

1
Dew beads the grasstops,
Drawn upwards by the moon.
Still air,
birdsong, too, rising.
My heart,
weightless
Lifts,
Hollow ghost.

2
Beading grasstops
Dew drawn upward –
The brightest moon

The brightest moon
Birdsong rising –
Cloudless sky

Cloudless sky –
My heart, weightless,
Turns like a ghost.

Turns like a ghost,
Moon in the west,
Seeks shelter
In the deep hills

In the deep hills
Night remains.
Rising birdsong

Rising birdsong
A world dividing.
Edges of the sky

Edges of the sky
Weightless heart
Moonlit dawn

Moonlit dawn
Rising and falling
The way of heaven

Way of heaven
Floating heart
Weightless souls

Weightless souls
Rise on birdsong.
The dew has fallen.

3
Taking wing
They rise and melt –
Departing moments.

Departing moments.
My weightless soul
Rolls over
In cool, moonlit dawn

In cool, moonlit dawn
Dreams depart.
The way of heaven.

The way of heaven:
One window, the moon.
One window, the sun,
Heart between,
Remaining.

4
The dead rise weightless.
Some to the sun,
Some to the moon,
Some to the hollow skies.

They rise on floating song,
The birds of dawn.

Turning slowly,
Moment by moment
Forgetting their names,
Into the eternal expanses
Of a patient heaven.

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Passionate lovers,
These winter and spring days.
March and April,
How they so
Tear at each other, caress
With smiles,
Fall together,
Push apart, preen,
Rush oblivion and break
As waves at high tide
On each other’s panting flesh.
Rain
Seeds dashed,
Rainbows unfurl,
Sudden sun, dark squall,
A mating in time and space,
Conjunction of contraries.

Moon worn thin
High north wind
Spring thaw.

Half a moon
Ice in the river
Slowly melting.

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WEIGHTLESS

The whales weightless
In their heaven.
The spice islands of the night.

Drowned in
Midsummer blue
Scattered, sprinkled.

They sing across half a world:
These whales weightless
Rippled in starlight.

The golden moon is a song.
They shall sing the song
Of one line,
Of one world,
Of one note,
Endlessly satisfied.

The dark with its peacock eyes,
The bruised lips of the rose,
The scented fingers of night.

Wordless on the wings of fluid song
The curves they leap,
The sideways slide of their dream:
The stars that weave the hours.

Ryokan says:
Months pass, days pile up
Like one intoxicating dream-
An old man’s sighs.

One bowl
Is the moon.
One robe
Is the sky.

He says:
Dreaming about this dream world again
Old memories return.
Ten thousand mountain paths.

And they are weightless
In their blue heaven,
Stars, mountains,
Whales.
The spice of moonlight
Scented of roses.

Wordless they turn,
Sighing they turn,
Weightless, wordless:
These days piling up,
Endless paths, winged,
Sliding, drifting,
Weightless.

came across some old scribblings, upon which this piece was constructed

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