Above the clouds, with the stars, sits a lighthouse full of books which wrap around the winding staircase until the tower’s peak hits the ceiling of the universe. At this peak is a light which shines through a window. A long trail of gold which glitters brighter than any pot at a rainbow’s end. Those …
Seeker, Wanderer, Lost Boy, Storyteller: The Many Names of the Dream King
Seek the Dreamer, my child. When you have sought every last fantasy whispered to the first stars of the night, you will find your way home once more. # The old king stood at the edge of the water. It wrapped icy waves around his bare feet and ankles. Each drag of water covered his …
A Sky of One Thousand Stars
A Sky of One Thousands Stars See the Sky, Look Up Climb the eagle-headed mountain; your comrades wait, laughing and feasting around a head of flame. It whispers of the past, the present and the future. Behind you and your fellows hugs a crescent shape of night darkened silver birch. They glow like eyes …
How to Turn to Childhood for Inspiration
Thoughts on the Future, Looking to the Past The value of childhood lies not in the experiences the child hastily wishes themselves out of but in the years later, as the child stands with eyes toward the future and a grateful heart cast to the past. Long ago, if we pull back the vine of …
Visit London: Learning London City With Lists and Food
Learning London City Day One Breakfast, tentative, tiptoing into a corner of the chatting room. I toasted bread, find peanut butter and quirk a first smile. I will spend the next two years oscillating between amusement and exasperation that the British understanding of peanut butter is full of sugar and very little of peanuts. But …
Starlight Through Glass Jars
Listen in silence within creases of dust,
dance on fingers of light
dreams through open windows.
Sing in songs between the hours
tocked by two brass hands
and a numbered face.
Watch in shadows under the sky
thrown across quilted blankets
starlight through glass jars.
A Dervish of Moonbeams
If you
want for light
for
day for night.
If you
wish for land
for
sea for sand.
Sink
feet deep.
Let
snow hug you
to
sleep.
In
this dark and cold embrace.
When
all stars are erased.
Find
futures inside fire.
Where
for light for day
for
night, for all conspire.
To
bring together a last daydream,
a dervish in deep moonbeams.
Castaway
Look. If you only listen, step quiet and stop. Peer through the shutters, out into the night.
There exist worlds only wished for from the tips of fingers.
Can you find one?
If you do, step light, look far and near or you might find yourself falling through a crack you never meant to touch.
Lyric Poem: Far Below A Whispered Moon We Seek
A Lyric Idea
A lyric poem written in celebration of stories. The image which inspired this piece came together thanks to various images from creative commons of flickr.
I value that which I can create with my own two hands, so this is a rare piece. However, I sometimes find as much value in creating new images or stories from pieces of others. A remix of sorts.
In this, I refer to both literal stories and visual stories, told as oral tales in ancient days or photographed and formed by people today.
To the power of the story!
Far Below A Whispered Moon We Seek
Far in the misted west, lingering in the deep of the moon, hear the call of the white wolves, whispering to the loons.
Long ago and past the fields, full of thundering deer, sits the silverwood in faerie song that echoes across a lake’s mirror.
If you hear the voice of adventure, don’t forget your hat. Wear it high and proud in sun song, but when the rain storms down, beware the thundercat.
Listen to the wind as it circles empty branches, a herald to the snow that comes, crashing a wave of avalanches.
In the deep night of spring, ‘round circles of stone, hear the call of the folk, it speaks to the stories in every bone.
ARR~Moony
Hallowed Be This Hollow Earth: The Story of a Sky Walker
A tree grows up from infinity. It branches out in cotton puffs of green. Which drop snow over lemonade. Until sorrow overturns the season to pink petals. Which land on the fox’s nose. Who sneezes. Each drops with purpose to the moss floor. They strike a long path through the tangled wood. Shielded …