Coleridge "To Nature"

To Nature


It may indeed be phantasy, when I

Essay to draw from all created things

Deep, heartfelt, inward joy that closely clings ;

And trace in leaves and flowers that round me lie

Lessons of love and earnest piety.

So let it be ; and if the wide world rings

In mock of this belief, it brings

Nor fear, nor grief, nor vain perplexity.

So will I build my altar in the fields,

And the blue sky my fretted dome shall be,

And the sweet fragrance that the wild flower yields

Shall be the incense I will yield to Thee,

Thee only God ! and thou shalt not despise

Even me, the priest of this poor sacrifice ..S T Coleridge

Winter On The Bay

Bait Bag Creations

Into The Mystic

Out Of Mind

Astride a low stone monument

Monolith in a stream

Creeping tide comes rolling in

Chasing the morning ‘s dream


The lamp of god’s crimson glow

Obeys the soul’s delight

For as sure as morning beckons

The stars announce the night.

I sit in time suspended

A gray zone without light

Shadows on the cavern wall

Pass me through insight


But energy must have it’s due

So I listen to her call

And turn my face towards the light

With back against the wall.



Oh yes the heart must tremble

As the dark must have its door

Yet I see her face still shining

Past the last horizon’s shore



As the walls of shame do crumble

To heed the goddess sign

I leave safe harbour freely

And sail out of my mind.



Zman

Cat Diary

CAT DIARY




Day 983 of my captivity. My captors continue to taunt me with bizarre little dangling objects. They dine lavishly on fresh meat, while the other inmates and I are fed hash or some sort of dry nuggets Although I make my contempt for the rations perfectly clear, I nevertheless must eat something in order to keep up my strength. The only thing that keeps me going is my dream of escape.



In an attempt to disgust them, I once again vomit on the carpet.



Today I decapitated a mouse and dropped its headless body at their feet.

I had hoped this would strike fear into their hearts, since it clearly demonstrates what I am capable of. However, they merely made condescending comments about what a "good little hunter" I am.



Bastards!



There was some sort of assembly of their accomplices tonight. I was placed in solitary confinement for the duration of the event. However, I could hear the noises and smell the food. I overheard that my confinement was due to the power of "allergies." I must learn what this means, and how to use it to my advantage.



Today I was almost successful in an attempt to assassinate one of my tormentors by weaving around his feet as he was walking. I must try this again tomorrow…….but at the top of the stairs.



I am convinced that the other prisoners here are flunkies and snitches.

The dog receives special privileges. He is regularly released - and seems to be more than willing to return. He is obviously retarded.



The bird has got to be an informant. I observe him communicate with the guards regularly. I am certain that he reports my every move. My captors have arranged protective custody for him in an elevated cell, so he is safe. For now..........

Hopewell Rocks& Shepody Sunset

The things that I feel often resonate


With a similar, familiar wave.

To find ones self, congruent, supplementary,

Complimentary, and alone.

The collected myths to be renewed,

The knowing of one’s people to be pursued.

Shedding the skins of past lives

Seeking a soul’s delight.

Sliding O so gently

Into the darkening of the light.


Shaman

If there be a goal or a purpose to be

Let it be far from the matrix

Yet close to the sea

As far from the din

As quiet can be

Found in safe harbor

With god’s company.



To find as a child

One’s own heart’s delight

With reason suspended

Turning dark into light.



Where millions of birds dance

With the wave of a wand

And I sit there breathless

To delight on the strand.



For what is work

If not worship

A time yet to be

A note in a bottle

Awash on the sea



A touch of the hand

Warmth of the eye

A sweetness of breath

Wiping tears long gone by.



Suspended in time

Where the orbits recede

Dreaming of tides

Rolling in with their need.



I watch from a rock

Alone in a dream

To one day awake

Aware in the stream.





Zman Aug 2007 Mary’s Point

Rock Art

Larsen Marsh

 

 

 

 

Inspired

 

Mary's Point