SOVEREIGN

Sunday, June 18, 2023

Tynemouth Priory 2023

A soft strand of sand

Telling of long-gone sagas

Whispering memories

Crisp azure blue of sky

Laments many sad losses

Permeating the mind

This cold North Sea

Grasping the bare beach

Cascading waves roll on

Inward the rhythm

Outward the breath

Teardrops mingle with rain

Crumbling decaying priory

Delicate sandstone arches

On the wind eroded headland

A promontory soaked

In slow Benedictine chant

Facing the seagulls soaring

Time continues observing.

Tuesday, April 18, 2023

Mothers Passing, 18th April, 2023

Mother would have wanted us...

Wanted us to enjoy ourselves

At the ‘Grand’ at Tynemouth,

View of an impenetrable sea;

Rolling and rolling over time,

With the vast stretch of sands...

Sands that stretch like memories,

And the wind blows Softly, gentle;

Caressing the crumbling Priory.

Tears of the daughter caught;

Through moments of peace.

Sun warming cold skin in May,

And the presence of my mother

As mourners speak with joy...

Familiar faces around the grave,

The mother of my birth lies still,

Expanding heart; it’s all love

From beginning to the end.

Friday, September 30, 2022

Yampa River, Steamboat Springs, Colorado

The sound of the river, by old black rocks

Broad, fast-flowing, flecks of white foam

Pools of gray-green, darkness and silver

Running, rippling, gargling, and thrashing.

Overhanging branches of russet willow

With poplars fading into autumn

The tweet and twitter of chickadees

Black, white, darting back and forth.

Mallard Ducks floating and bobbing

Cottonwood leaves litter the damp earth

River sparkles with stories of life and death

Silent currents weaving their tales.

Anglers wade through deeper waters

The search for mature rainbow trout

Fly-fishing from the banks, move swiftly on

Passing quickly beneath the steel bridge.

Friday, September 23, 2022

Aspen Trees, Steamboat Springs, Colorado

Aspen Trees

Gently auburn hued autumn air

Gold smudges in paintbrush stroke

Dappled on steep mountain sides

Speckled with tall green pines

Groves of bright gilded aspens

Silent in the cool crisp of fall

Waiting for the first frost to come

Time slowing down to stop

Quivering silver black bark

Thousand Buttery yellow leaves

In moist, crumbling black soil;

Rich and dark, damp humus

Trunks trembling in the breeze

Thin shards of golden ore

Fluttering softly in the wind.

Thursday, September 8, 2022

On the death of Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II

Saddest peals of mourning

A nations’ greatest loss

Ten days slowly turning

Deaths fateful step we cross

Elizabeth our dear queen

Has passed from light to dark

Entering the eternal stream

Her gracious life we mark

Service of a devoted life

Praiseworthy to the last

Her reign banished all strife

All flags now at half-mast

We remember her glory

Trustworthy to the end

To her all songs laudatory

Each subject a dear friend

Royal standard never drops

To a new king we cheer

Noble time never stops

Look forward to a new year

Photo: Cecil Beaton, October 16, 1968

Monday, August 22, 2022

A Simple Religion

"This is my simple religion. There is no need for temples; no need for complicated philosophy. Our own brain, our own heart is our temple; the philosophy is kindness..." Dalai Lama

There is a point where the concepts of religion and God fall apart because they are limited definitions that cannot express the reality of the situation. The term 'God' becomes redundant when the thing being contemplated is far greater and more complex that can even be imagined. We then come to realize that the mind and body are the true temple where we come to meet the sacred spirit of existence. And even though the mind and body are corporeal and limited - we find a space within that is both infinite and eternal - where the Spirit can find a dwelling place, the Temple of the Soul. And in that Temple of the Soul we find great peace because it is far from written words, definitions and concepts, it is a purity of existence that cannot be talked about, it simply exists for itself. We simply bow in reverence and awe as we stand in the presence of the Supreme Spirit.

Photo: The Nereid Monument at the British Museum in London.

Friday, August 19, 2022

The Dissipation of Time

“Unfortunately, the clock is ticking, the hours are going by. The past increases, the future recedes. Possibilities decreasing, regrets mounting.” ― Haruki Murakami, Dance Dance Dance

Time never makes it easy on life - we always seem to lose more than we have gained. "If only we could turn the clock back..." is the common phrase - we would do things differently. We would pay attention in school and finish with good grades, then go to university and graduate and get a really well-paying job with all the benefits. We would become wealthy, maybe even famous. But no - the bubble is burst and we realize our predicament - we are losing time without making progress. We cannot stop it. Soon we will be measured for our final resting place. Will the time ever be on our side?