Maybe this time

I’m still after nagging at the Oracle to give me something more positive. She’s budged slightly. But not much.


We dance to the rhythmScreen Shot 2018-12-09 at 16.26.56

of the flowers’ decay

and the haunting of ghosts

in their velvet gowns.

There is poison in the breath

of the darkened sky,

and we fly like fools forever

in the wake of stars,

while the perfumed night breeze kisses

blushing morning blue,

whispering words of peace—

will we listen, do you see?


Maybe, this time.







Bloody as a river of roses

No luck with getting a hopeful message today.


An ache springs, bone bare

or bloody as a rose and cold as rain.

Wind brings shadows in from the sea,

shot through with raw light.

No dream music plays here,

no moon sleeps, lazy as dripping honey.

Only the rocks sing  bitter-sweet

to the empty sky.

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Bough falls, too full of green life;

the world’s song breathes out

a river of roses into the night,

wind and sun soft as moonlight on water.

Listen, and ask the dusky cloud,

how long can we live without a soul,

when will the dawn come?


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Rain music and moon songs

I don’t usually bother the Oracle in the week, but thoughts were getting grim and gloomy and something prompted me to see if she had anything to offer me. I’m glad I asked.


Honey-shadowed forest—

did you see its water beauty

winding in its bed towards the sea?

Beneath a  misty sky,

blue dream ships sail

with rain music in their wings.

One day, I will follow,

singing sun and moon songs.


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