Monthly Archives: August 2012

Secret Teachings


Having learned the secrets,

keep the promise of silence

no word of this to speak.


Of the Mysteries we speak.

The journey of knowledge and secrets.

Dare to do and keep silence.


Speed towards spirit in silence

and listen when they speak

for they will tell you secrets.


The Lyre-string’s secrets break the silence with song before spirits speak.


Written for dVerse prompt TRITINA



The Way


Shall we explore lost secrets hidden deep in the unconscious?

How to reach this repository of the soul is strange.

No amount of thinking in the monkey mind will unlock the door.

Yet concentration on the theme will loosen the catch little by little until the third eye sees inside.

So what visions and illusions await?

A silent film with strange characters.

Memories of stars and planets and past life fragments seep through a jumbled dream.

Hallucinations of a fiery inferno through the translucent fog of the void.

Tunnels of the abyss leading to caverns of demons where tortured souls wail and groan.

Above, on the river Acheron, Charon pilots the souls of light through the dark night of the soul.


Prompt EXPLORE from Sunday Scribblings

Carry on Tuesday MIDWAY IN LIFE’S JOURNEY from Danté


Picture credit ‘Charon’ by high dark templar at

Post War


This house remembers the blitz

blacked out windows and whirring sirens

warning of bombs.

An Anderson shelter survives in the garden.

On the table a ration book

with coupons left for food queues.

At last the courage to wash curtains

carefully,  lest they fall apart.

The clothing coupons all gone.

No fuel for the fire.

Get some sunlight soap and spring clean !

Put life in here again.

Wash away the years of neglect and want.

The dark years must give way to a better future.


Prompt from Tess Kincaid at the Mag BIG ROOM 1948 By Andrew Wyeth.


Shared with dVerse Poet’s Pub.

North Eastern Railway


The river’s quiet now as I watch from under the bridge.

Ghosts of barges pass in the morning fog piled with coal.

Smudge faced men drag sacks and stack them for the journey.

Then sit with hand on tiller as the water swishes by in horse drawn silence.

In the distance I hear the whistle of a steam train thundering down the track

speeding the black fuel to its destination.


Picture prompt from the Mag by Tess Kincaid.