Nov 302012
 

When Dawn broke my sleep with a light, golden spear,

Out peeled the bell o’er my hypnotised head.

My eyes opened wide as I sat up in silence,

Raising the silver shield up from my bed.

 

The bright, ruby ring I had plucked from the deep stream –

Blood of a rosebud that sparkled in my eyes –

Finely it glimmered, a star pink as sunrise.

 

By the night river of clear running water,

I had watched servants weave garlands of wonder,

Maidens make ready for dancing and feasting,

Faerie-folk tending the flowers of summer.

 

Somewhere were singing the undines…. A page-boy

Whispered of treasure to those who could listen,

Spoke of a ring that endowed one with wisdom

 

All who would go there were seeking this treasure –

Moonlight enraptured the realm of enchantment –

Nowhere directions for those without vision –

Lost beyond time in a place of deep dreaming.

 

Fed by the fountain of memories, like snow-flakes,

They watched without seeing in shadows of knowing,

Drank without thinking a draught of forgetting.

May 292010
 

fairy.poetry4Behold what we’ve seen!

In the night Faerie Queen

Showed us her tresses and danced through our dreams.

Told not a soul the Chevalier bold,

As he grew older than all the King’s soldiers.

Joy rose on fire from the funeral pyre,

Free as a bird that escaped the dark world.

White water rivers made stirring souls quiver;

Trees in the mistral of love’s mourning minstrel.

Silent with learning did Knights made their journey

To lands where the treasure was far beyond measure.

Light was the angel with eyes fixed on sunrise.

Cloak made of rain-clouds that raised up the death-shroud.

Beautiful, lethal, the Nephilim’s sequel

Returned through the sight that could penetrate night.

Mar 182010
 

The silver mirror turns to fire.
Golden haired, a halo of sunrise
Is in the clouds.

His robe is cloudy grey and heavier.
Than the robe of air
That was lighter than petals, silk or breath.

He passes over my head like a wind horse;
The hem of his robe brushes my face.
“Nephilim” Someone said.

“Elohim”, I replied.

He is standing above and beyond me;

I see him looking East.
He is a young-looking and handsome;
He is older than day, cooler than rain,

But there are no tears in his eyes; his eyes dry.

He watches and waits like a coiled Spring,
Radiating fiery light that is silvery grey,

Like fire of the moon and dry rain.

I cannot breathe or blink, I do not feel or think
As I watch him watching the sun rise.
I hope his gaze does not turn on me.
Angel, anima, herald, star, who is he?

It matters less if he does not see me.

His impenetrable breastplate
Is his silver chest of translucent air;

Knight of the sun or prince of the night,

His hair reflects the golden light,
Rising in the dawn he knows is coming.

Ever he swears allegiance:

Eternal is His dominion;

I watch for Him until day breaks.

If the Watcher stops watching, will the watched-for never return?