All Hallows' Eve

All Hallows' Eve is sorcerers luck
Paganic litany is found in no book
In ancient forest upon our knees
The succubus unleashed to please
Tonight demons have run of earth
To greet winter in mischievous mirth
But when human flesh the zombies eat!
Not so good to trick or treat!
So welcome a witch with wary dread
Or dawn may find all the villagers dead!

 

Happy Halloween

 

Faces

Enigmatic perhaps; aware almost

Possibly iniquitous; but to behold them
Is to understand
Faces follow a pattern
All lift their heads to the stars
Flickering high in a vast fastness  
They survey the insouciant enigma
With troubled eyes set deep in wonder
Because what it is; is ever, what it was
And we can no more change the stars
Than we can the face we have created
The face that hides beneath the person
That we thought would do the most good

Storm St Jude

Let’s talk of the storm

Fill news pages with bluster
Then tomorrow let them fly
Like paper cranes on fading winds
But no-one must ever talk
Of the greater storms
Sent from utility boardrooms
That let people freeze
In hopeless, icy winters
So that the elite's champagne
Doesn’t ever get too warm

Wander

Wind shall be the opus
On sodden autumn day
And I will wander today
On layered leaves
Descended from grace
Thoughts will merge in time
Till I am lost in happy reflection
And all will be serene in hope
Though brief glimmer it be

Redact

The desperate bird that will no longer sing

Hope has become a forlorn, lamented thing
All shall still majestic in indomitable pause   
For what now sharpens fates terrored claws
As a nation of consumer prey is fast revealed
The notion of right become much less annealed
In all the assay of a long prepared redact
Where but to my heart, will I make a pact?

October Waning Moon

My first good moon picture (moon is waning) the first is the normal shot and then one taken with full zoom.

The Book

The book does not show the end

Its very prose now inhibits clarity
For truly words are never enough
To express every contemplation
The evolution of man must so still
Because we have used all the words
None are now left to grow the soul
Scientific script grows exponentially
But unless the growth is matched
By language of the human essence
We will remain in ever a debt
To the steeled will of inequality
That places science above poetry

Lore

Creature bereft of choice

Yet know it not;
Impossible clown in propriety
Think you again...
It avails naught to resist truth
For where the wizard walks
Lore from antiquity surely hides
It breathes in the desire of dragons
Scythes empty air with enchantment
But has the power to heal the world

Layers

Loves lost layers are peeled back

No soft embrace of the hand; but torn
For each wrap is a relief to open a kiss
So take this gift and taste my origins
Cherry chocolate and butterfly tenderness
To wind across your senses like a serpent
That unravels its coils on the full moon
In a sky painted in crimson and black

Twitter version - I've been experimenting which is fun because you're only allowed a limited number of characters but lots of lines. The verse below is the maximum number of characters allowed.

Loves lost layers

Are peeled
To open a kiss
Butterfly tenderness
Floods across senses
Like a serpent
On a full moon
In a crimson sky

https://twitter.com/ClumThomas

Whit

For but a whit, think you, do fools work

That their day breaks into toil for trifles?
Washes into night and rest; none the easier
But who would not travail so valiantly
On a chance that their children fared better

Montage

By winter’s zenith

The leafy mantle disrobed
Off majestied Beeches
Lies skeletal underfoot
A prostrate montage
Reflecting long gone summer

Consciousness

Consciousness takes flight

Flows away to seed the aether
With memories of lost freedoms
They shall remain there
Till one day; long off in time
When the world is a better place
They may return

Bracts

Poignant random words

The bracts of my memories
I scatter them to the wind
So they may travel the world
And settle down into coherence

Iridescence

The shades of the soul when it returns to earth and awaits resurrection are caught in sunlight dances of iridescence and dapplement. But the heart in life you must leave intact and let it beat out its uncertain rhythms in the slow, inglorious time of desire. It will not forgive, forget, nor forswear, when there is ever hope to dream rain shall weep across arid pastures; watering all the dry furrows of emptiness with late summer joy

Grand Old Opry (2)

My dear friend Scott asked the webmaster to create a link here from Dollymania site which became live. I would just like to say thank you to anyone coming from that link and in expression of that thanks post an update to the prose. I think it is an improvement, but you are the judge.

If you haven’t been to the Dollymania site the link is here http://www.dollymania.net/ .It is well worth a visit. It is easy to forget just how much Dolly has contributed to the entertainment scene through her talent as a singer songwriter and also actress. Who can forget her portrayal of ‘Truvy’ in ‘Steel Magnolias’ with memorable lines such as “There's so much static electricity in this room, I pick up everything but boys and money.” She is a star in the truest sense of the word. Hope you enjoy the prose and if not apologies.

 

The Grand Old Opry

I could have gone anywhere, but I came here

To tread quietly on the Grand Old Opry boards
See curtains drawn on an empty, lifeless stage
The festoons thick with reverently clinging dust
Placed by a time that has long ago passed away
A lone chair centrestage looks out above the stalls
It draws me over so that I may sit; take in the scene
Remember in-situ the days I dreamed of all my life
And I see you all, dressed up in your best, to come here
Never so fine a congregation sat upon hallowed pews 
Sat in eager expectation, for the main act to arrive

The monochrome haze of the present slowly dissipates

To bring into view the colour of this glorious past
I see her in my mind; the country queen holds court
Her perfume on the air, curtains draw upon excellence
Petite over engineered physique stands proud in humility
Rhinestones dazzle; platinum hair shimmers in the footlights
"y’all gonna get sunburnt out there, ladies and gentlemen”
With her beautiful smile she fills the stage with honest joy
Heart big as a Tennessee mountain ridge and hummingbird pretty
Her audience applauds; she is at ease; no diva; just a woman
The songs come like a wind of revelation; take away pain

I see the Smoky Mountains, the streams; the pain and loss

But she weaves such hope and good deeds to rise into the lights
As her performance closes we know she loves every one of us
I admire you Dolly; you made it big by being modest and kind
A quiet gentleness of pure spirit that makes me close to you,
Even though I never knew you; for I journeyed from the future
Because lying here in the past so long gone by; was perfection
The most successful female country artists of all time; forever
Artificial on the outside but inside as real and as deep as it can get
A sweet songbird that never left her mountain home or folks
Dolly Rebecca Parton you came into my world bringing only joy

Small

Small white dog walks
Upon slight white frost
That clings;
To thick fallen leaves
A patina of grey on amber
Till the sun rears high
And chases away night

Wait

Take the wait but count the cost

Of a colder life now summer’s lost
In missing sun, sand and blue, blue sky
There is now no time to say goodbye
Days of frost worn in greyest shroud
Is winters embrace below heavy cloud

Dolls can be good for wildlife

Some pictures above of a wasp queen hiding within the folds of Gandalf’s cloak. I had to move it while i painted the arbor. Clever girl! The approach of Autumn can now be seen while out walking and the bluest Hydrangea seen in the garden.

Spider

The web woven; its thread still wet

Across the clearing the trap is set
Among lofty boughs abode is made
Between her larder and deadly shade
‘Monster’ you cry, but pity her verve
All comes to naught without her to serve
If she is harmed it shall be no surprise
When we sorrow in a bitter world of flies

Nothing

No matter the means

When the veil falls down
The ages await us all
Nothing will alter the outcome
Nothing can I take with me
Nothing will I remember
It can becalm the soul with despair
But instead let it flood it with hope
For if I never enjoy another life
I shall strive to always
Help all I can in this

Denial

We wrap our lives in quiet denial, but time takes all our gifts back to its capricious heart; no matter how we defy it. In the withering of our dearly loved ones, her eternal and deliberate hands hold a mirror up to our future. Lost between our love and fear, the march of our years through quiet decay, walks away with our soul.

How old must I look?

Unfunny incident tonight as about 10 police and lots more Mountain rescue people and a police helicopter were out around the lake looking for a missing 77 year old man and his dog. I was sat on a rock having a coffee when the helicopter circled twice and hovered for a few minutes overhead. A police man told us later that they had flagged I might be the missing man. How old must I look?

October

October with her day born mist caresses along the length of my nose like a finger wrapped in wet silk. Vapour stifles sounds across the still water till I feel I am almost alone. A lone wandering spirit now trapped in a white cocoon of her enveloping inquiry. She has come to earth to wreath and covets my spirit. She cannot succeed, but in her embrace I feel the change of days laid bare by the new month. It is here now on the cusp of winter that the chill air takes away any hope of sunlit days with its watery, sensual touches. I breathe her, taste her and smell the decaying foliage she casts to the ground. She is brutal and yet benevolent and has the majesty of a tyrant touched by a brief pity for the world. So she allows it one last breath of chance to prepare for the tightening grip of her hold upon all living things. The usurped green crown of summer she now wears but in each day of this month it becomes the white-golden diadem to pass to November.

Grand Old Opry

The boards are quiet at the Grand Old Opry

Curtains drawn back on an empty stage
Festoons of swags and tails thick with dust
Placed gently by slow time that has passed away
A lone chair placed centre stage looks over the stalls
It beckons me over and I sit to take in the scene
Remember the days; now so long ago gone by 
When you dressed up in your best and came here
Sat in eager expectation for the main act to arrive
The present haze dissipates into the colour of the past
I can see her in my mind; the country queen holds court
Her perfume on the air, curtains draw upon excellence
Rhinestones dazzle; platinum hair shimmers in the footlights
Beautiful smile; petite over engineered physique stands proud
Fills the stage with honest joy; her audience applauds; she is content
The songs come like winds of revelation to take away any doubt
And at her close we know that she loves each and every one of us
I admire you Dolly; you made it big by being modest and kind
A quiet kindness that makes me close to you though I never knew you,
I came from the future because lying here in the past was perfection

Downton Shabby

This made me laugh - good one Unite

Autumn

Slowly with a clockwork ancient rhythm the northern world shifts back on its axis. The nights arrive in temperate balmy evenings and all that remained hidden on the margins of deep summer dusk now become visible in the timely flowing gloom that arrives earlier each day. Clouds traverse the sky like lace overlaid on cerulean cloth that slowly catches fire in the dusk. As the west bound embers decay, cool air rushes into the remains of the day and in all her glory dusk takes command of the world.

 

Now arrives the time of the night creatures to enjoy the longer darkness. Bats inhabit the cool air catching insects in angular swooping patterns. To hunt and feed; grow rich on autumn’s bounty before the winter world hides them from sight deep in lairs and holes, cracks and crevices. It is a time of harvest, of doubt, but of great hope. That ever winter shall rage with fury against the world. But we all shall be safe and warm till the spring.

Concordant

The Vinyl spins on a platter in third time

Still sounds dynamic and fresh; ageless tempo
Hear ‘I feel love’ by the queen of synth disco
Giorgio’s vision given a form in Ms Summer
Concordant aurality in techno, tuneful slam
So very lucky; were we; children of the LP
We were the conduit in the creation of music
Because we got to contact its analogue heart
For me a thousand songs in a cigarette packet
Doesn’t feel like music at all; I need to contact it
When it all comes too easy; it never comes at all
So I engage and enjoy and leave iTunes in the past

 

Ninety Five Percent Chance *

So a ninety five percent chance

That we may cause a problem
The earth is not at risk
It never was
Only humanity is at risk
And we...
Traversing slug like
Across the garden of earth
Are without a prayer
Unless the makers return
And sort out the mess we made

*Last week, the Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change published its fifth assessment report on the physical science of global warming and made it clear that the continued burning of fossil fuels to run our cars, factories and electricity plants is now virtually certain (95% certainty) to induce serious alterations to our climate. These changes will appear with stealth. Nevertheless, the IPCC's report makes it clear that rising sea levels, acidifying oceans, shrinking icecaps and thawing Arctic tundra are now likely to occur with virtual certainty by the end of the present century.

Shakespeare’s Comedies

As You Like It with Measure for Measure, means All's Well That Ends Well in this Comedy of Errors for Love's Labour's Lost is within a Midsummer Night's Dream. For truly, there is Much Ado about Nothing in this Tempest created by a Merchant of Venice who with Two Gentlemen of Verona was intent on a Taming of the Shrew by the Twelfth Night helped by the Merry Wives of Windsor in this amorous Winter's Tale

Devon Sculpture

These sculptures were at Overbecks in Devon. They are titled 'Time Travellers' and they are atmospheric and challenging. I would love these in the garden and I dont think i would ever tire of looking at them. This is my idea of art. It is as though he is trying to reach her before they both dissolve in time.

The sculptures are by Melanie Deegan - some amazing works here

http://www.melaniedeegan.com/

*Overbecks which was the house of the inventor Otto Overbeck. He invented the  'rejuvenator.' The house overlooks the picturesque Salcombe estuary.

Mushroom tree

This is the most fungus I have ever seen growing upon a dying beech tree. Snow white and a typical mushroom shaped as opposed to the more common bracket type. I hope the pictures do it justice. Strange world indeed and how the mightiest is made to fall by the smallest things.

Devon Sept 2013

Devon Pictures September 2013

Nexus

Full moon stirs a noble heart

Drafts a nexus of calm spirit
Lest the walk of autumn patters
Tiny feet of doubt into a heart
Now feeling the lessening of summer

Tides

Tread soft the sands of love

They shift on a whim of tides
That ebb and flow like a song
Sung to the time of eternity
In a rhythm of beating of hearts

Learn

Revelation is truly skin deep
Even so...
It still took fifty years
To learn...
What everyone else already knew
That...
Time has touched me
Drawn a history on my face
And I can feel its strokes

Fungus

In tune with the passing equinox

Fungus rises out of the damp earth
Moulded in soft, velvet, rounded flesh
So many differing hues and textures
They break from the seal of the ground
And brood spores to throw on the wind

I dont ever remember so many differing varieties in such quantity before. It must be a good year for funghi

Yeast

Yeast would thou grow

In this cold, cold larder
Some have called my heart
Which life has kneaded
Into the dough of doubt
For within every poolish*
A culture may arise still
And rise high to greatness
 

* Poolish is a starter made from the same ingredients as the dough, but is left to develop for a long time.

Chivalrous

From out of swift sunrises
Chivalrous intent comes
It shimmers in the dawn
Rises to begin a new age
In this hallowed light
Man the soaring god of war
Battles to make of it
One last garden of Eden
And ever yet; nothing
But a disappointment of the day
Is ever left for the sunset

Four Wasps

Four wasps feeding in the liquor of summer pooled within the fading splendour of a plum. One last release from labour in a gentle intoxication before the first frost comes and their world ends.

One day

One day I will live in a house

On a bleak heather clad hill
So high it will be close to the stars.
The air will be clean and warm
Carry me scents of the world
The stream that feeds the well
A crystal clear flowing mirror
And there will finally be room
For the mind to expand
To its true potential
Till it is perfection
Then I can lie down and sleep
And the soul; whatever it is?
Shall glance behind only once
Then fly away into eternity
Over all the rolling, empty spaces

I know

I thought I knew

Some of the questions
I thought I knew
Some of the answers
I know nothing
Save that the world
Is infinite and vast
Beautiful and rich
And yet we chose
To destroy it all
Rather than let
The engine of war
Come to a stop

Nobel

In a sky falling down under a Syrian sunset
The wind takes the rising spectre of peace
And blows it north, with a hot, desert wind
All the way back to the fjords of Sweden
For there a dream was given form; to birth hope
Yet Obama’s Nobel Prize sleeps in its function
It has thus far saved no one; will save no one
It gathers weary dust and diminishing kudos
It will dissemble the writ of populist vision
Till a last bird sings its farewell in the trees
Then it will fade like a wraith into the dawn
Leaching dread of night into tomorrow‘s spirit
Unleash again into innocence the engine of war

Size

Size is no guarantee of anything

In the evolution of good parenting
Equipment size science is Gonads
To work out the suitability of dads
A thesis composed on the Testes
Is not one of our science’s besties
I rather fancy it is all wordy balls
Where funding has made all the calls
I shall walk over dale and hillocks
Think to myself, this is just bollocks

Guardian nad other press  - Men's aptitude for childcare may be reflected in the size of their testes, according to a study by US scientists. Researchers found that men with smaller testes were more likely to take charge of children's bath-time, visits to the doctor, night-time comforting, and other parenting jobs than others who have larger testicles.

The same story was borne out by brain scans which showed that men with smaller gonads reacted more strongly to photographs of their own children than did men with larger ones. The findings are the strongest evidence yet that variations in male anatomy reflect competing evolutionary strategies that can be distilled down to mating as much as possible versus investing more in parenting. Both are effective ways to maximize an animal's chances of having offspring that continue their lineage.