Posted in Uncategorized, tagged clouds, Devon, Haiku-ish, hedgerow, lanscape, Poetry, roses, summer, sunlight, warm on June 27, 2013| 10 Comments »
THESE MOMENTS.
Hemlock
Clouds the hedge banks.
Light
Is high, a heaviness
And a stillness.
Slow air
Collecting summer,
A weight of green.
Pillow clouds
This light rests upon:
Grey and silver.
Content
To remain a veil.
The dry earth,
Warm and pale.
Nodding roses,
Damask scented.
—
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged dawn, Derbyshire, landscape, nightfall, Peak District, Poetry, Solstice, summer, the north, travelling on June 21, 2013| 4 Comments »
MIDSUMMER DAYS
1
Heading, slowly north from under the cloud. As the road stretches, the sun breaks through. Heat seeps down and reflects up from the ground.
Wild rose and elder
The bones deep in my belly
Warm and relax.
Lazy summer clouds.
2
By nine
The hills are hidden
Light rain by the lake
Swifts dancing low
By ten
The day dips
A long twilight,
Undecided whether
It will leave or stay.
Ducks glide over the waters.
A moment only
The lime trees by the stream
Seem to radiate light
Before a sudden,
Most certain darkness.
The earth, at last,
Chooses the sleep of night.
The sky, though,
Still open eyed,
Too awake for stars.
—-
Solstice morning.
Lost amongst sweeping cloud
The sudden breeze makes rain
Under every tree.
Rested upon ripples
By degrees peace infiltrates.
Ducks line the lake shore.
—–
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged birdsong, cloud, cuckoos, grasses, green, landscape, nature, Poetry, rain, resonance, summer, time, valleys, woods on June 15, 2013| 2 Comments »
THERE SHOULD BE CUCKOOS
There should be cuckoos.
The warm silver clouds
Low with rain
Sheeting the high hills,
Green and weighed down
With yesterday’s light.
There should be cuckoos.
Floating, echoing hidden
Like a gong, like a memory
Turning over the still heart
Melting tight paths of thought,
Manifest distance.
There should be cuckoos.
Inhabiting every wooded fold
Deep in the world
Now settled, fruiting,
Slowly inturning, indwelling
Heading high to solstice
And then the long
Slow burn to harvest.
There should be cuckoos.
Now the hay is turned and gathered
Now creamy elder scents the air,
Worlds in worlds, layered, established.
Angels barefoot down the lanes,
Honeysuckle fingers, messages forgot.
There should be cuckoos
Measuring this loosening, this hollow,
Replacing thought and song
Answering all, settling all,
Letting go, adrift and floating.
Low clouds, rain heavy,
Warm air’s slow somersault
The swaying grasses, the rippling grasses.
From the green world’s roof,
From its rafters,
There should be cuckoos.
—–
(Ornithologically suspect, as cuckoos here in England usually call most in April, but it was the thought of cuckoos on a warm, cloud-filled day in June, that inspired this flow of words.)
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged beauty, bliss, landscape, life, nesting, Poetry, Samuel Palmer, small things, summer, sunlight, William Blake on June 8, 2013| 4 Comments »
WARMING
(The ghost of William Blake conversing with
The ghost of Samuel Palmer, down by the apple
Orchard, perhaps)
Sunlight gathers heat.
Sparrows in the eaves
Flustered wings, feeding, fetching.
Small is the delight
That accumulates bliss, drop by drop.
The easy centuries
Of a cat’s sleeping breath.
It is a life of small moments,
A slow, steady filling:
Small moments noticed,
Not blessings to be prayed for,
Not dreams to be hollowed out from air,
Not glorious futures
Nor the wrinkled, cold hand of victory.
Upholding the fragile,
Precision of caring,
Peculiar coincidence,
Unexplainable connection.
No arrows of equations pinning certainty,
The sly, mad oracle of statistics,
Prophecies of bacterial bloom.
Summer storm
Here and gone..
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged Beltane, coolness, green, landscape, light, May, May-eve, nature, peace, Poetry, summer, sunlight, trees, warmth, woods on April 30, 2013| Leave a Comment »
print of ‘Light of Beltane’ created from tree and other plant spirit symbols
*****
THE COOL GREEN FIRES OF BELTANE
These wild mad-eyed men
Fire burning souls, heart-clawed:
Let them cool and rest
Under the dapple of trees,
Let them silent learn to smile,
Let them melt a little
Considering this fragrant air
sufficient, replete.
Breeze-filled, bird-filled,
A hammock for goodness.
Let them drop their hunger,
The carving of empires,
The bitter profits of belief,
The fierce ambitions for more.
Let them love their sons and daughters
And let them remember the open woods.
Let them not fear heaven nor hells
But let them halt and watch
The small things gather, delighted,
Learning the blessing of trees.
Let the heart melt in May,
Let the skin warm, flesh relax, soul unfurl.
For there is a glory to find beneath all things
And it shall shine through
Enough for any,
Enough for all.
Life under trees.
Let the mountains remain open
Let the valleys be all in green shade
Comforted, rocked, whispered.
For there are sufficient deserts,
Howling emptinesses we need no more of,
No more cleansings nor clearings
Nor impositions of sterile order.
Let the heart melt into May,
The cool green fires of Beltane.
Let the soul, with the souls of all, unfurl,
The branching year blossoming.
Beyond is the cool airs turning warm,
Beyond is a place to rest completed,
Beyond is the dream of violet shimmer
The hum of summer, the nest of light.
Under trees, cooled, dappled, blessed.
*****
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged ambient landscape, belonging, haibun, Haiku-ish, islands, nature, Orkney, photography, Poetry, Scotland, sea, shore, silence, summer, summer solstice, travel, wandering on April 21, 2013| 6 Comments »
The full length piece can be found here as a blog page as it takes up a bit of space (though does not comprise many words). I have recently been looking at some very old travel writings, mostly taking the form of haibun. This one was composed on a brief visit to the Orkney Islands, north of mainland Scotland, during the midsummer of 1980. I have added a few new linking texts, but apart from that the piece remains as originally composed. Accompanying the text were originally some black and white photographs, but as this was long before the days of digital anything, I will have to do considerable playing around to reintroduce them (once I have located prints or negatives)
XVI
(solstice)
Returning to Stromness I cooked an evening meal and then wandered aimlessly along the coast. Although I had to rise early next morning, planning to take a boat to Hoy, I was unable to leave such a beautiful evening. Despite the hour, it was still very light, and a deep silence filled both myself and the land through which I walked. Resonance was everywhere. Great wellings up of deep emotion when I beheld the waves on a small foreshore; the trawler, its mast-light flickering, heading out to sea; the hills and cliffs of Hoy across the water almost melting into the deep stillness of oncoming night; young lambs bleating on the hillside; mother ducks with their young by the shore.
this evening, too, lingers,
unwilling to leave
your summer stillness,
Islands of the far north.
on the shore
wave upon wave
only deepens the silence,
Islands of the far north.
XVII
(gift)
soon to depart,
at last
the tune
of something
framing this land
the stranger
knows a wholeness
to which
he does not belong.
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged forest, Haiku, heat, japan, landscape, nature, Poetry, Sewa, shrine, storm, sugi, summer, taiko on February 4, 2013| 4 Comments »
ARISING
The haiku is often what is not said. The spaces filled by personal recollection. And, of course, catching the moment a mind jolts awake.
This haiku,
Wordless, is
What is not said.
The shaped voids
Becoming occupied
By personal recollection,
A sorting of remains,
Catching the moment
Mind catches sight
Of itself
Mirrored.
These words have no meaning.
And these lines are silent.
No sound, no movement.
In the heat of late summer
The shrine in the mountain forest
Filled with the gossip
Of old men in green shade.
Storm sweepings
(debris of the sway of the world)
Sugi smoke rises and crackles.
In its own dark hall
The taiko drum plays with silence.
Unstruck, its taught skin
Ripples out roundness
Beyond sound.
Ripples across Sewa Lake,
Waves of branches in the wood,
The oncoming typhoon.
The cicadas ignore,
The ants map
The grey weathered boards
Of the audience chamber.
The carefully robed priest,
Each toe grasping the steps,
Opens the door between worlds
With invitation and gesture.
A slow wheeling of kites.
This sign is not in use.
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged Haiku, Poetry, rain, roses, senses, summer on August 16, 2012| Leave a Comment »
Summer path
—-
Clouds bloom , air cools.
One drop, then two.
Sudden scent of roses
—–
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged being aware, darkness, Haiku, lightning, night, Poetry, summer, thunderstorm, zen on August 13, 2012| Leave a Comment »
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged Basho, Britain, children, gardens, Haiku, summer, sun, zen on July 30, 2012| 2 Comments »
I
We are adrift in sunshine and birdsong.
The green fields turning golden hay.
Grandchildren like chirping sparrows.
Fresh breeze from the hills.
Nothing to report,
Lost in time and space……
II
Basho by the pond.
—
Pausing,
He turns to listen:
The sound
Of one hand
Clapping.
—
(Some more words scribbled down from my diary. It’s been a busy summer. Just recently missed a great flurry of strong words. It’s so important to write when those times arise, as the fuel that fires the flow is soon consumed..)
simonhlilly 