The Soul's Retreat



by on Aug.09, 2010, under General, Poetry










Here is a portal sent through time
From the future or our past?
Time is a loop,
An eternal ring,
Never ending –
Yet cannot last.

From somewhere beyond,
We may know someday,
Or conversely, never see.
Our limited brain comprehends
Not yet,
What our past
And our future
Have been.

The stones hold the secret
To immortal life,
We have only to find the key.
One day we found the answer
To the puzzle that’s yet to be.

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by on Aug.09, 2010, under General, Poetry

The warmth and comfort of my small world
Seem far and distanced and out of reach
My complacent mind was shaken awake
As that narrow tunnel I began to breach.

As colours swirled and sounds merged in,
I heard the ‘midwives’ voices say
Now here’s the head, we’re almost there,
One final push – she’s on her way.

The thunder of storms turned to gentle waves
That lapped upon a heavenly beach
My emergence into this new world
Made all I knew feel out of reach.

The light was blinding to my sightless eyes
Luminosity came from deep within.
My death-mother waited with arms outstretched
To welcome me as the world did spin.

As wisdom and knowledge filled my mind
I realised this was no strange dream.
The tunnel of death, as the tunnel of life,
Brings new beginnings as the new-born screams.

Goodbye my friends on the other side.
I remember, but thoughts are fading fast.
We travel all-knowing through birth and death.
An eternal cycle – our destiny’s cast.

~ ~ ~

This is what I imagine happens when we die – we go back to where we came from. Everything goes in a circle, so why should we be any different?
When a baby is being born, we can imagine it as seeing light at the end of a tunnel, as it travels down the birth canal.
People who have had near death experiences often say they have seen a tunnel with a bright light at the end of it.
It makes sense to me that both processes are similar!
Written June 26th, 2005

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by on Aug.09, 2010, under General, Poetry

I came here from Salford
Where the only thing ‘soft’ is the water.
(Oh how I miss that sweet water)

The Salford I knew and loved
Was fast disappearing
Under masses of ugly concrete facades,
And incomers –
The druggies, ex-cons,
And the mothers who couldn’t care less
About anything else
But where the next fag, and can of beer
Was coming from.
All their kids dressed in the finest of
Designer label gear,
All purchased of course from
The ‘Back of the Lorry’ store.

Law abiding citizens were now outnumbered,
And the immaculate but poor houses
With their proudly kept gardens,
And ‘white-stoned’ door-steps
Were quickly being replaced with sad, neglected windows
Framed with nicotine stained curtains,
And paint-flaked doors,
Their gardens awash with modern art forms
Of twisted scrap metal and black bin-bags.

They can’t blame poverty.
Oh no…
We knew poverty, all of us, together.
The only time children had new clothes
Was ‘Whit Week’,
When all the neighbours expected a visit
From the local kids in their new finery,
And they would tip them a penny or two
For the pleasure it gave them.
Every neighbour was an ‘Aunty’ or ‘Uncle’,
There was respect, and caring, and love.

How quickly things change..
How I achingly feel the nostalgia.
Talking of the good old days
Like my Gran used to do.
We would smile, and raise our eyes to the ceiling
But loved every moment of her reminiscences.
‘Tell us about the old days Gran’
And we’d gather round to listen.

Now I am Gran!
Now I reminisce and mourn old times,
And fear for my future generations.
We moved to a new place,
To the seaside,
To give everyone a better life,
But we find no greener grass here,
Only the same old pastures.
A few years behind, but quickly matching pace
With the sad renaissance of Salford.

And how I miss that sweet water!

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by on Aug.09, 2010, under General, Poetry

As the sun peeps through the heavens,
We unfold our petals bright,
Stretching in the early morning,
Reaching out to taste the light.

Dewdrops rest on tiny petals,
Heaven sent, our thirst to slake.
Purest water, welcome sunshine,
Nourished now, we’re wide-awake!

Trembling in the breeze, you’ll see us
As we smile to cheer your day,
Nestled in amidst the grass,
Perfectly formed in every way.

Then as the sun begins to fade,
And moon and stars light up the sky,
We fold our petals tightly round,
To bid another day goodbye.

All through the moonlit nights we sleep,
Tight curled and folded ‘til the morn.
Waiting for the suns first kiss,
To start another day, reborn!

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Pluto and the Imp

by on Aug.09, 2010, under General, Poetry

A tale was told in recent times
Of Fen, an Imp of goodly ways.
Strange music he began to hear,
One misty evening through the haze.

Fear flowed with the haunting strains,
His noisy heart thrummed as he ran –
Not loud enough to overcome
The calling tune of Connorbahn.

Instinctively he knew his fate,
And yet he fought against all odds.
His very soul defied the grasp
Of the mighty faerie God of Gods.

He clenched his fists into his ears
As, gasping, he fled through the night.
The moon smiled on, oblivious
To the wretched creatures’ dreadful plight.

Breathing musty odours in –
Chest heaving, he began to tire.
The music now crescendoing,
His body held the heat of fire.

Torn and bloodied from the chase,
And weakened now beyond all aid,
Tormented, he fell to his knees,
Trembling as death’s music played.

The end came swiftly, without pain,
His tiny form now lay unfurled.
An empty shell, a soul reclaimed,
By Pluto, Lord of the Underworld!

* Connorbahn is music heard in the world of Faerie as death approaches.

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by on Aug.09, 2010, under General, Poetry

So, where to now?
For the final time, our tempers
Turned around to take a bite.
Senseless accusations leaped
From me to you, and back again,
Generating so much pain,
Another row!
What have we done?
For here I stand without a life.
Mocked by this tired reflection
In the exit door.
Through trembling lips
The question hangs, then slips –
Who won?
This time we lost it all!
There’s now no turning back
To eat my words, make you eat yours.
I stand alone
Steeped in this unearthly chill,
The sirens’ echoes fill
This empty hall.
Which kind of death is worse?
Whose staring eyes conceal more pain?
Those seeing from the outside in, or inside out?
It’s time to leave,
Taken now from where we are.
One travelling in a prison car,
The other in a hearse.

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by on Aug.09, 2010, under General, Poetry

Languid intoxication blurs my senses,
Liquefying the memory
Of the lies dripping
So easily from your lips.
Trying vainly to erase
The acidic bitterness
Drenching my soul,
Dousing the elegiac emotions
Inanely lingering.

Yes, your translucent demeanour flourished
Around my delicate psyche.
Those sordid acts of betrayal
Withering my soul
Still more
With each subtle blow.
Ahhh, I sip this blood red wine
In remembrance of you,
As I lay a rose
Upon your grave
And I dance…

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by on Aug.09, 2010, under General, Poetry

When I walk along the ‘prom’
At home, here by the sea,
The spinning carousel there
Brings such memories to me.

Sometimes, I buy a ticket
Just to ride my favourite mare,
And we gallop back to childhood days,
Where I lived, without a care!

The seduction of the music
The enchanting organ sound.
The sweet intoxication
Of being whirled around.

The vibrant, living colours,
Scarlet, yellow, edged in gold,
Add to the enchantment
And the magic, many-fold!

I become a little girl again,
Wind fluttering through my hair,
I surrender to the feelings
Often hid, but always there.

And if I ride at twilight,
All the horses are aglow
With multi-coloured lights,
Making such a wondrous show.

Then as the ride slows down
And the music starts to fade
I return to present times
Leaving behind the masquerade.

I step down to the concrete path
I’ve had my bit of fun!
It’s back to earth now, with a bump –
Must get the shopping done!

~ ~ ~

I (and my husband, Steve) have been known to do this, and although people give us a wry smile at first, there have been times when they have obviously thought ‘oh what the heck’ and climbed onto one of the horses themselves and had some fun!
It does your soul good to break out once in a while, and do something crazy when the moment takes you….

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by on Aug.02, 2010, under General, Poetry

Meandering through
These inner depths,
Mystified still,
At the wonder of it all…
Velveteen heart-thrum setting the scene
For a lifetime
Of stumbling chaos.


Surviving this far,
Amazing feat!
Realisation dawns
Of my own mortality.
Sifting through layers
Of occurrences –
Incidents, accidents, ‘happenings’


Oh, so much heartache
Reaped throughout the years!
The pain of loving
Grasping at my soul,
To leave the fronded ends
In tatters,
Half a century old.


Gathering goodbye’s
From the moment we meet,
To leave behind our truth,
No deceit.
In realisation
That maybe life was sweet,
Was good,
Was ours,
Is almost gone.
Freefalling into absolution…


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