ONE

VGow 17/05/17                                              ONE                            

Balinese

nightfall

creeps

in.

Expectant

devotees gather,

rustling, hushed,

                                             their faces masked by fervour,

          waiting to watch and listen to

the epic Hindu love tale: Ramayana.

This ancient saga, borne on the winds of time, tells of

Good

resisting Evil.

One comes to catch a glimpse of what lies beyond the curtain.

Is she ready to accept

life’s

hidden

mystery?

A priestly puppeteer- the dalang,- invites her, ‘come behind the screen’.

His gleaming eyes are gilded membranes.

Elongated fingernails with hands ringed by black pearls and white moonstones,

denote him to be

a shaman,

a powerful storyteller

who decrees

what is right.

Oil lamps cast puppet’s eerie shadow on the screen.

Gamelan* orchestra tempers it’s unearthly sound

by softening its percussion notes.

Take care for

music captures souls.

“Mover of the world’*

is just a thin veil away from

mortal spheres.

This is no time to linger.

Escape back into the night.

One is not ready

to know

                                                                            ‘Who

wins?’

Gamelan – traditional ensemble music of Java and Bali in Indonesia made up predominantly of percussion instruments.

‘Mover of the world’ – a term used by shaman who refer to a ‘god-like’ master puppeteer.

MIST IN MAY

MIST IN MAY

It

leaves

lizard

destitute

in the rockery.

Seeps through velvet violets,

seeks and cradles all

in its mystical power.

Slithering bodies freeze,

bright sparks of energy wither,

as it spreads like honey on moss covered rocks and crevasses.

Summer is now just a fantasy.

Sweeps over Feng Shui path,

leaf littered by Autumn’s calling.

Sleep well now, in your glorious bed of gold, burnt umber, ruby red and dappled ochre

till random rake lifts you onto garden, one fine day.

Grotesque shapes of weeping cherry trees scratch at windows

with their claw-like, brittle, branches.

Rhododendron buds

wither grey.

Gentle jonquils and daring daffodil hide and seek

shelter in their spears.

Belladonna lilies slumber,

dreaming

of a

warm

sun.

VGOW

21/05/17

OCTOBER WINDS

OCTOBER WINDS

Wild

and

wicked,

they whip the

washing from the line

 and desecrate the blossom on the crab apple tree,

It’s an indoor day for me.

A memory seeps inside my mind

of another time.

When, snug and warm inside our home,

we children played at hide and seek.

Father’s voice sang a song of joy.

Morning calls

for fun and feasting.

So rarely did he cook for us,

but this tasty breakfast treat was his one ‘pride and joy’.

We danced a jolly jig to his

melodic humming,

waited for the pan to sizzle.

Nothing smells like buttery toast.

And placed on it the savory mix;

leftover dinner,

lamb, peas and gravy.

Baked potatoes, crumpled and smashed.

Even the title

caused us to giggle

and chant

around the kitchen,

“Bubble

and

Squeak”.

VGOW

04/10/16