Le Point Vierge: Regarding The Soul: Haiku #8

20170519 LE POINT VIERGE REGARDING THE SOUL HAIKU #8As you may know, I’m fascinated by the traditional haiku – those short Japanese poems consisting of three pithy lines; and the lines containing firstly five syllables, then seven, then five.

Below are a number of verses to a poem, with each verse being a haiku, and each (hopefully) seen as progressive, and saying something (albeit brief, and poetic) about our awesome, complex, mysterious ‘composition’ as humankind.

Flesh and blood yet flow
within our soul’s great embrace.
Animated dust?

‘Yet more!’, the sage says.
The soul, the immortal light,
is the precious ‘you’.

Where the soul resides,
time and timelessness exist
in a paradox.

There, le point vierge,
a meeting place of the soul,
Wondrous rendezvous.

The ‘go-between’ soul
encounters, there, the spirit,
always faced to God.

butterfly 111 animal-2028155_960_720In liminal space,
there we dance the dance of Love.
Graceful theosis.

Triune personhood,
as above, e’en so below.
You, mirrored Spirit.

 

20170519 LE POINT VIERGE REGARDING THE SOUL HAIKU #8

Arianrhod In All Her Splendour: Full Moon Poem

20170510 POEM ARIANRHOD IN ALL HER SPLENDOUR FULL MOON POEMTonight, 10 May 2017, is the May full moon, in the constellation of Libra. To me and many it is known as the Bright Moon. To celebrate this full moon I wrote the following poem:

Arianrhod in all her splendour, moves by an invisible hand
and wanders companionless, like a silver wheel in the sky. She ascends.
This full moon’s lucid beam dominates the now darkened canopy, and
there, in her smiling face, we find sweet, unbridled understanding.
She befriends.

Her ‘lesser light’ moves across the sky above the city, grey.
Oh, robed in splendour, her surge of silver-light fills every window pane
and skips across rooftops, trees, streams, fairy fires, and silent railway,
and falls unbeknown on those who sleep now, and refreshment regain.
A blessing.

Arianrhod, spill your beauty on a thousand Earthly races,
on happy flowers that bloom in a myriad of hues,
on laughing, smiling, sad and all up-looked faces,
who, in wilding spaces, drink your wine of sweet, bless’d fallen dew.
A gracious infilling.

And paled now is her light,
as onward she moves lower in the sky. For the sun, opportune.
But, for now, dear Arianrhod reigns with love. She is mistress of the night.
A timely witness sent by the Truth who is beyond the Moon.
A glorious remembrance.

 

Note: Photo above is copyrighted, and used with kind permission. Gratitude to Pennie Ley [Link]

 

 

Cosmic Fire [Within]: A Poem & Liturgy For Beltane.

20170425 COSMIC FIRE WITHIN POEMBeltane, celebrated on 1 May, is fast approaching.

The wheel turns, as the Earth continues to circle the sun. As it turns, and east is represented by the element of the wind (and we’re moving away from that), then due south is represented by fire, and we’re moving toward that.

Due south, the time of the summer solstice is the height of that season and element, so Beltane is south-east. Not quite east, not quite south. It’s a ‘moving into’ time’, as we move south-ward. In Wales and Ireland, and other Celtic countries Beltane is the beginning of summer, or at least the summer season represented by fire (even if, weather-wise, it doesn’t quite feel that way), and so many – perhaps yourself – will light candles and bonfires to welcome the wonderful event of Beltane, and usher in a new season.

Beltane is the time for dancing around maypoles (a popular event at primary school, but maybe not so now). It is the season of maturing life and deep found love, and the time of making vows, handfastings and other commitments. In Wales, Beltane is also known as Calan Mai. I’m afraid those words, themselves, don’t have a deep meaning, and they just mean the first day of May. However, the event itself is very significant and is a wonderful time of celebration.

My encouragement to you, then, is the celebrate the event in large ways or small, but to celebrate it is some significant way (that is unique to you).

With Beltane and fire in mind, here’s a poem, a Beltane liturgy that may be of use. It will form part of my Beltane celebrations.

Cosmic Fire [Within]

Before time itself,
when matter was but a dream in the Divine mind,
in the cosmic explosive crucible
of the furthest reaches of space,
fire roared.

Before life was formed,
when cosmic radiation coalesced
into a myriad of starry forms,
as the universe expanded,
fire grew.

Before humanity arose,
when the universe was oh-so-young and innocent,
the Source of All
planned that you should be here, and
fire moved.

Before this present time,
before you even knew that you are ‘you’,
energy was planted in all the elements.
Visible only to those who have eyes to see.
Fire hid.

From the very start,
it was ordained, that one place for the element of fire
to reside, to enliven and to empower,
was deep in the very core of humanity’s being, in your
heart.

Praise be to you Brother Sun, Sister fire.
Visible and invisible are you.
Felt and yet unknown.
Through you we can shine like a myriad stars in the sky.
A return to the beginning.

 

Poem For Good Friday: Oneing

20170414 A POEM FOR GOOD FRIDAY POEM

In our mind’s eye
we gaze into the eyes of God
and our souls declare, ‘God lives!’

We see God’s eyes gazing back
and our souls declare, ‘God loves!’

Perception matters.
With eyes of atoms our egos look around and declare God is nowhere.

With eyes of light, imagination, and intuition, we look at
stars, and trees, and plants, and people,
and our souls declare God is now here.

One seeing, one knowing, one love.
Oneing.

As an amateur astronomer, whenever I can, I’m in awe as I gaze upward, using a Meade 12 inch telescope, at the marvels of planets, stars, nebulae and more. The photo, above, taken by NASA, is the Helix Nebula, also known NGC 7293. It is a large planetary nebula located in the constellation Aquarius. It’s commonly known as the Eye of God. Isn’t it beautiful?

 

Luna, Faithful Companion: Full Moon Poem

20170411 LUNA FAITHFUL COMPANION POEMThere are different ways of perceiving the moon, or indeed any other object.

We can look at the ‘surface’ of things, and as regards the moon for instance, scientifically describe it as an happy accident or chance happening from which we can derive some benefit. Distant observation.

Or we can get ‘closer’ and describe how bizarre that ‘co-incidences’ should have happened in relation to us, the planet and the moon, and think deeply. Synchronicity.

Or we can get closer still, encompass the other two ways of perceiving the moon, but also ponder, silently, in awe what effect the moon has on us, means to us, and meditate upon the hand that flung it into space, and look ‘beyond’ the veil to discover a continual uncovering of truth and meaning. We can experience a connectedness like never before. Oneness.

Here’s a poem ‘Luna’, regarding the latter, in gratitude to the Source of All at this time of the full moon.

The moon’s face smiles as her love is poured out.
Earth’s faithful companion of old, Luna, without a doubt,
depicts landmarks of whitened seas and grey isles
as her love is poured out, the moon’s face smiles.

On this night she takes her rest
with a myriad stars around her pale-yellow, brilliant dress.
It is time for us to draw closer. A cosmic invite as
she takes her rest on this night

Shining on the world below.
Witnessed by lovers, wild beasts, owls and crow.
That moment of ‘nowness’, moonlit, presence-defining,
on the world below, shining.

Moonbeams dance across the firmament, that is a vast space,
From Mare Imbrium to your face.
A meaningful encounter, not produced by chance, as
across the firmament that is a vast space, moonbeams dance.

High in the sky she shines, above the mist,
you are embraced, known, much-loved, and moon-kissed.
So revel in nature’s love, accept it, never asking why, for
above the mist, she shines high in the sky.

Wishing you a blessed full moon celebration. Tadhg

This poem is a swap quatrain. That is, where the first line is repeated in the last line of each stanza, but rearranged so that the first part of that line becomes the second, and vice versa. I hope that made sense. Blessings.

The Elements: The Wind Whispers

20170215-the-wind-whipers-poetry-and-liturgySince the celebration of Imbolc or Candlemas, usually the first few days of February, we’ve moved into the season of spring. Sometimes, local weather patterns prevail for a time to give a wintery feel, but rest assured spring is on its way. [Except for my antipodean friends. Sorry].

For ancient Celts, Christian Celts, Druids and those of many other ancient tribes, the cardinal point for spring is the east. So, my recommendation is that, for any ritual or recitation you make to celebrate the season, you face the east – unless you have a fixed custom, of course. For me, at this time, I like to start three compass/cardinal points ‘back’, and so as I work my way through a recitation at each compass point in a clockwise fashion, I end, for this season of spring, by facing the east. East represents spring time.

And the main element of spring is air/wind.

Here’s a poem entitled ‘The Wind Whispers’, about this season of spring and its main element:

– oOo-

I hear your voice on the sound of the wind,
and I hear you call out my name
deep within.

With no companion to my mood
I walk, but know
that in my solitude
I must bow to the wind that buffets me so.

Tonight was the first spring thunder
in the mighty rush of rain.
And the earth, like a child that knows her poems by heart,
declares, yes, that it’s spring once again.

And so I part the thrusting branches
and come  beneath
the blesséd and the blessing trees,
that look upward at God all day
and lift their leafy arms to pray.

Beneath a canopy of stars,
of broken branches showing the scars
of many winds and so much strife,
this is life.

Yes, the wind whispers to us all.
Its words carry across the tree tops, and it sings.
And, back comes the wind full strength with a body-blow
dandelion-pixabay-smalllike that of angel-wings.

Praise be to you my dear Brother Wind,
and through the air, cloudy and now serene,
I hear your voice…and I hear you call out my name,
welcoming me, and those of my kin.

-oOo-

This is a ‘found poem. That is, a new poem fashioned from, and/or based upon the thoughts and words of others that have gone before. In this case, this poem written by me, was prompted by some great words penned by:  Rudyard Kipling, Sara Teasdale, St Francis of Assisi, Joyce Kilmer, Rainer Maria Rilke, Wendell Berry, and Douglas Malloch.

 

20170215-the-wind-whipers-poetry-and-liturgy

Haiku #6: Regarding The Moon Of Ice [Ephemera].

20170209-moon-of-ice-poetryI’m fascinated by the traditional haiku – short Japanese poems consisting of three lines; and the lines containing firstly five syllables, then seven, then five; and somewhere in the haiku there is usually a seasonal reference (called a ‘kigo’), however oblique.

With the full moon, this time it’s known as the Moon of Ice [see here for details], imminent, here’s a haiku regarding that wonderful, blessed event. An event to ponder, to take time and be still. To gaze upon. To give gratitude to the Source of All. The Haiku:

Windy weather wanes.
The Spring full moon is so bright.
Look! Her smiling face.

shoe-1433925_960_720A voice from above,
‘Remove your shoes, my dear friend.
The ground is holy’.

Be still and wonder.
The Source of all is sending
Grace to all. Blessings.

 

 

 

20170209-moon-of-ice-poetry

 

Poem: Gökotta [Revisited]

20170118-gokotta-poetry

Surrounded by the majesty, that is unspoiled nature.
Above, is draped a most beautiful azure canopy, that lightens by the moment.

And, here I sit in the glade of Elveden,
gazing wistfully at the lake,
looking into the mid-distance. Pondering. Waiting. Musing.
Morpheus surely reigns?

Morning mist hovers above the lake,
not yet scorched by the sun
which slumbers below the horizon,
and which marches ever closer.
Air of Imminence.

In the fog, my imagination runs amok.
Birdsong from afar masks, almost, what seems to be
the sound of children playing, children laughing.
Is it the drowsiness of solitude, of the moment?
Or is it elementals all around, unseen, chattering to each other
and greeting the birth of this new day?
Pleasant unknowing.

The grass bends, flowers sway gently.
and yet the mist remains.
Could this be an, as yet, unregistered breeze
or the fae jumping from to and fro, from flower to flower?
The Talmud declares that each blade of grass has its own angel
whose sole purpose is to whisper, ‘Grow, grow.’
Sancta simplicitas.

And, then the day begins.
The son of Hyperion rises on the horizon
in all his brilliance, and
pierces the mist,
and heralds the start of a new day.
The Sun appears.
I find myself standing in awe, in praise of the Sun of righteousness.
Orans.

Could it only have been idle thoughts,
my imagination?
Could it have been angel-song?
Or, could it have been that in the clearing of Elveden,
that ancient den of elves,
that elementals had truly been at play?

Alone with the Alone!

— oOo —

[Early morning reflections, Capel Curig, Wales]

Note: Gökotta is a Swedish word, and the closest English meaning is: to wake up early in the morning to go outside to hear the first birds sing.

Poem: Afon Nant Peris [Re-Visited]

20170113-afon-nant-peris-poetry

In this rugged, wild, grey-green place, the stream flows.
Downstream represents the past, of days gone by, the old, the familiar and known.
It is an empty plate of cakes, just crumbs, now gone; it is yesterday’s meal.
The flowing water is time.

I reckon you look upstream! Most do.

Upstream is unfamiliar. It is tomorrow charging towards us and becoming ‘now’.
It isn’t redshift; it is blueshift!
It is the future, it is potential, opportunity, a ribbon of possibility reaching toward us.
It is the unknown. A challenge. A risk.

Time could be the harbinger of good or of bad,
however we define those words.
And yet Rumi’s wisdom of inviting in all those who knock at the door of one’s life echo loud.
For in playing host to all, we may accept a benevolent ‘guide’ from beyond,
and grow in stature.

The flowing water is time.

As I stand motionless and observe, the water flows and yet so do I.
A body that ages,
a mind that thinks,
a heart that beats involuntarily,
a planet that spins. And one that orbits.
A solar system that moves.
Tempus fugit.
Everything is in a state of flux.

And so I, like you, look upstream.
Could this be Afon Nant Peris, or even Pishon?
But, I crane my neck and look upstream,
for it is from there that the Spirit calls out to us by name.
The Spirit whispers in the desolation, the forest, even in the city.
The Spirit’s echo can be heard in this place. A holy place. A ‘thin place’.
And, God’s activity is recorded in the past, felt in the present, and reverberates to us from the future.

It is there that The Friend dwells,
and which, for us, is that other country we heard of so long ago,
and to which we journey on.

Yes, the flowing water is time

Poem: Lights Will Guide You…

161205-poetry-2016-december-framed

Is there something missing,
and you feel that there’s nobody listening?
Could it be that everyone of us is scared,
everyone of us is hurt?
Oh, I think I landed in a world I hadn’t seen,
where a wicked and wild wind blew down the doors to let me in.

Look up, I look up at night,
planets are moving at the speed of light.
I hear you come nearer,
I hear you, but I don’t understand.
In your eyes, I drifted away,
and in your arms I just want to sway.
Oh, I think I landed where there are miracles at work.

Time just floated away.
Still I call it magic, a simple plot but I know one day,
good things are coming our way.
Christmas lights, light up the street.
Light up the fireworks in me.

Oh, angel sent from up above.
You know you make my world light up.
Yes, lights will guide you home.

You’re part of the human race,
and, all of the stars and the outer space,
are part of a bigger plan.
If you’d only, if you’d only say yes.
Under this pressure, under this weight we are diamonds taking shape.
Still, I call it magic.
You’re such a precious jewel.

 

— oOo —
This poem falls within the ‘Found poetry’ genre. According to Wikipedia it ‘is a type of poetry created by taking words, phrases, and sometimes whole passages from other sources and reframing them as poetry (a literary equivalent of a collage) by making changes in spacing and lines, or by adding or deleting text, thus imparting new meaning.’ The abovementioned poem uses ‘borrowed’ phrases from Coldplay song lyrics.