Monthly Archives: January 2014

Snow Fall

wyeth andrew the mill 1964.

Stillness abides in the silence of snowflakes.

Frozen jewels of sacred geometry

reflections of the complexity of creation.

Water frozen into soft whiteness layer upon layer

transformed by the temperature of air.


Within this window burns my log fire

warming me and sending

fragrant smoke through the chimney.

Transformation of elemental energy

upon the Kingdom of Earth.


Written for the Mag picture prompt supplied by Tess Kincaid

‘The Mill’ by Andrew Wyeth


The Snake Charmer


Vidni lifts the lid of the basket

shifts the soft coloured cloth comforting the snake in sleep.

The serpent stirs, rising to the sound and sway of the pungi.

Rhythm of mesmerism penetrates the realms of darkness.

A demonic consciousness demands sacrifice.

The serpent morphs into a basilisk as it waits for the prey.

The notes on the pungi plunge lower, vibrating in the base.

A young boy skips by full of life, suddenly he falls, lifeless.

Is he dead?

People gather round.

A medic gives help

Presently there is life again in the boy’s body.

But his eyes are reptilian.


A terrible tale for dVerse’ ‘Story’ Poem


Source of image unknown

The Cello

Doisneau Robert Musican in the Rain


How I love him

tender touch on my bow

between his legs I know

his fingers caressing my strings

it makes my heart sing

with melody intense and lingering.

embraced with the comfort of this case

I lie in languid contentment.


Written for The Mag and shared with dVerse open link

Picture ‘Musician in the Rain’ by Robert Doisneau




Bjön Bruberg at dVerse invites us to write about trees.


The tree of plenty

life force through Gaia’s heartstrings

precious breath of life.


Earth’s natural wealth

its beauty cleansed and watered

elements of life


Money energy

Brings dark moon of destruction

material greed


Roots of pollution

entangle the tree of life

seeding destruction


Image GAIA from ‘Sacred Mirrors’  The Visionary art of Alex Grey.

Alex writes:

“The day after our daughter, Zena, was born I had a vision of Gaia, the World Soul.  Gaia was the tree of life or web of life with her root in the subatomic, atomic, molecular, and cellular levels of matter reaching upward through the oceans, stone, soil, grass, forests, mountains, lakes, rivers, air and atmosphere to nurture all plants and creatures.  A natural cycle of birth, sustenance and death was woven into the tapestry of Nature.  Gaia continuously gave birth to life through the love energy in her heart.  The future generations of humanity were symbolised by a human  mother nursing in Gaia’s cave.

Gaia’s body was being ravaged and destroyed by human man, reflecting the present crisis in the environment.  A diseased and demonic phallus had erected structures all over the earth to suck dry Gaia’s milk and turn it into power and money.  The wasteland of a disposable culture was piled high and was seeping into the mircrogenetic pool causing diseases and defects in the Great Chain of Line.

Emerging also from that microgenetic level – but on the side of Nature – was an evolutionary alarm represented by a large ‘seeing’ hand which catalysed the collective will of the people, enabling them to see, with eyes of unobstructed vision, the actions necessary to stop the destruction of the world soul.

Out the Window

Window 002


Sunshine on bare bones of Jacaranda

stark from its winter cut.

Blackbirds hop and peck at the earth,

chattering and exploring round.

Bird on a wire, listening, sniffing the air

waiting for a message from below ground

that will fill the garden with the sound

of birdsong and nest building.


For dVerse

Picture from my study window.

New York at Night in Black and White

new york at night vivienne gucwa

Dead of night and enough rain to moisten the cobbles

beautiful brown stone houses we walk between

dreaming of a life where we can remain unseen

away from the gossip columns of the press

where we can disappear into the fifties

when we had power and anonymity in the city

but we know the change is coming

when we will live in our tower block

gated and guarded with views of central park.


Written for The Mag

New York at Night, Vivienne Gucwa


the-three-wise-men-james-edwin-mcconnell .

A star so bright, dust descending,

resting on Raven robed in white

Ebony princess and priestess

shining keeper of the cloister.


Three Magicians she meets

An eclectic and electric trio

priests of fire forgoing all else

to follow the esteemed star.


Long beards and silk headdress

flow in the breeze as they bend in greeting

rich robes of fine wool gracing the paving

bearing gifts for the incarnate king.


Respected Sirs He was born in hiding,

I will tell where the family is abiding

But swiftly you must see them

tomorrow at first light is the flight.


Artwork by James Edwin McConnell .