"The Great Bazooka"

he was a clown once,
he used to thrust chairs
into the jaws of stuffed lions
and extract a flower,
walk the tightrope
fall.....
hang by his teeth
and raise his eyebrows at the crowd

but now he plays
solitary tricks with memories
in the gloom of his old caravan,
his costumes gather dust in the cupboard,
his faces fade in the drawer,
children press against his window
and stare at his empty mirror
their breath clouds the glass

meanwhile the circus prepares for the show

suddenly
the children scream and back away
the door explodes........
a strange figure emerges from the billowing smoke
resplendent in an enourmous striped swimsuit
complete with flying helmet, goggles and snorkel,
a large pink flipper tests imaginary water,
the great nose quivers and tilts to the sky
his arms raised high
he dives..........
and swims through the crowd,
and the children dance and cry:
"Bazooka's back!
Bazooka's back!
Bazooka's back!"

The Healing Sanctuary

at the
N.F.S.H.
Cirencester Conference
September 1999

Music of angels' footfalls
Delivering soothing balm,
Restoring and refreshing
The jewel of inner calm,
As incense curls aromas
Around about the scene
All swallowed in peacock's colours;
Indigo, turquoise and green.
A womb of meditation
Where a single candle's flame
Holds the reins on /Here and Now,
That the rush of Time be tame
In one eternal moment
To touch Forever and feel
Blessings of tranquility
To enlighten and so seal
The Sanctuary's healing
All encompassing the whole
From the aura's outer edge
To the marrow of the soul.

(February 2000)

Ibby Bluebell

Ibby Bluebell lives
In both light and shade
Beneath the dappling of the leaves
At the edge of the glade
Where the sun's intensity
Shines outright
At the constant burn
Of yellow and white
Alchemical flames
Of creative fire
Where writer and Muse
Meld to inspire
With sentences, gramar,
Peace and soul
From hearts and minds
Alert and whole.
Both muse and wordsmith
In one conflagration
Of earthbound and immortal
In divine integration
Through the woodlands
And the hedgerows,
Over marshes
And the meadows
To the tree of words.

(An extract from the Flower Quartet)

Feel Your Beauty

I feel your beauty
Running through me
So many secrets
Leave our love sleepy and tongue-tied

I want to fly with you
Through cirrus sea
To wake up in sweet summer
Feeling your mystery close and alive

Two teas
Both with honey please
And let my naked magic flow
For it refuses to lie still
Under green moss.

(June 1981)

night and day

night and day

in my sleep
there was a frozen waterfall
caught
like a sudden splash of a huge white moon,
and later
there were fireworks and rainbows
that gave out wonderful music
as i danced and sang
on the shore of a wide black river.....
this evening
i walk in the door
of a house full of strangers
the air full of slow jazz and wine,
a woman, wide eyed and solemn
turns in the lamplight
like the earth towards the sun
and greets me
and aah!
the magic ripples between us thicker than silver
and i laugh and shake my head
like a beggar who finds jewels in his soup -
oh, what days and nights these are!