As well as writing in my spare time I also write poetry as a hobby of
sorts. The frequency and quality of any work I produce is best described as
sporadic and variable. As a result of this I usually leave it on the back of an
envelope rather than on a blog. However, rooting around I have found a few that
I thought might be quite fun to share.
Feel free to peruse at your leisure..
Religion/Philosophy
I have a keen interest in religion and different philosophical perspectives having held various different views in different points in my life I have generally settled on a sceptical, empirical stance, though I have as little time for rude atheists as
I have a keen interest in religion and different philosophical perspectives having held various different views in different points in my life I have generally settled on a sceptical, empirical stance, though I have as little time for rude atheists as I do for religious fanatics. This set of poems reflects my general musings on the subject.
The Meaning
Seekers
We are the meaning seekers, lost in eternity,
Hunting for salvation, in a never ending sea.
Beyond the horizon, we believe we see a shore.
Our trouble is our reason, via which we commit an act of treason,
For we are discovering that there is no reason, just eternal laws.
The cup of knowledge can be a poisoned chalice,
It depends if we treat those around us with love or with malice.
For this can be our prison or it can be our palace.
We are the meaning seekers, lost in eternity,
Hunting for salvation, in a never ending sea.
For we may never reach those far off beaches,
And be here for ever more, on our lonely shore.
For we feel we have to travel to far off beaches,
And fear that if we stay we shall cling, like leaches.
From whom nothing of beauty can escape,
A ragged halfling who in living is only able to take,
A nuisance parasite who lives only to break.
We are the meaning seekers, lost in eternity,
Hunting for salvation, in a never ending sea.
For the grass seems always greener, our neighbours always richer,
An endless seeking for a victor, some sort of final fixer,
But the grass there is all of ours, this wonderful human mixture.
We would find it less lonely, if we came to know our common
humanity.
We are alone in the universe, that is near a certainty,
We are truly free but the price of this is maturity.
To Vilify?
I'm prepared to reconsider, to compromise,
Your prepared to stigmatise.
Every civilisation claims to lie at the centre of the universe,
A notion that some might call perverse.
We for ever seem to mythologise,
Hiding the true nature of things with our lies.
We cry, we lie, we dream to fly with every verse,
Some willingly whilst others are coerced.
False dichotomies, pathetic fallacies,
It haunts us, makes us enemies,
When at last we can recognise our common humanity.
We can lay to rest this bloody profanity.
A species at war with itself is doomed,
It may as well lay in its own tomb.
Pillaging the earth to increase our wealth, true insanity,
Commodifying life itself, an error of the utmost depravity.
For the earth herself will heal in eternity,
She follows ancient law written for posterity.
Natural law has no mercy,
It is only the law, how to act is up to humanity.
If we are to survive we must reclaim our democracy.
Achieve balance in our lives, end this hypocrisy.
For all that we try to say that we own the earth, and often to
greed succumb.
We merely loan it from those yet to come.
Noise
correction
Noise correction, spoil, protection,
Opposable thumb, appendix forensics,
Feeding reality, pleasing imagination.
Burning through the fog the truth shown,
The flaws in old logics elegantly displayed,
From tree we climbed, not angel flown.
The binding of our ethics,
From our history has grown,
Search not for the mythic,
Let natural elegance be shown.
Let us cleanse from our souls the mystic,
To show our own brilliance as we have grown,
Our skills they are truly prolific,
Yet our oneness is yet not our own.
Time
The time we have is but a temporary
thing,
Life can be hard, a pulsating,
raucous, at times noxious din,
It is the raging cacophony that all
things in the cosmos sing.
It can be happy, it can be sad, but in
spite of its flaws,
I thank thank any gods you may happen
to believe in,
to be caught up in this glorious whirlwind.
Feminism
I don't consider regarding myself as a feminist as particularly newsworthy but the subject itself very much is. The general premise of equality seems to be a challenge to some people, though an unequal society sometimes very conveniently benefits those who don't want to hear about how we might alter it in positive ways!
There are of course complexities and nuances within feminist discourse, such as ensuring that all women are represented in the movement and getting well meaning but sometimes unhelpful people to know when to stop talking. Below is my own 10p's worth..
A Plea for our Full Flowering Potential
Delving into
the decisively delicate demeanour of the less documented division of humanity.
A difficult and daring endeavour, denoting distinction from its other.
A difficult and daring endeavour, denoting distinction from its other.
A binary
position, an indelicate imposition, a patriarchal crushing of any other
disposition.
Of course the feminine is a valid position, at the very least there is societal tragedy by its cultural omission.
Of course the feminine is a valid position, at the very least there is societal tragedy by its cultural omission.
Is it fear
that leads to such idiotic reductivism?
Whatever the cause, patriarchy leads to a pariah’s prerogative;
Whatever the cause, patriarchy leads to a pariah’s prerogative;
Protest your plight with all your might,
Never placidly provide for those who ask for tithes!
She climbed the stairs carved into the side of the mountain in trepidation, her hair getting caught in her eyes as a bead of sweat made its way down her forehead.
A strong hot wind blew as she climbed the steps, pulling at her clothes and making her lean forward close to the stair, scared she might fall.
She had often doubted whether she should make the journey to pay homage at the shrine.
Was it appropriate, did she even have the right to enter?
It had been a long road getting to where she was going and she wasn’t going to give up now because of a load of hot air!
Finally, as she turned around the last bend in the stair nearing the summit it came into view, the temple of the Goddess.
A great statue of her sat cross legged over a colonnade, her hair sweeping down over her flowing robes in golden coloured stone.
As she got to the top of the stair she came to a wide courtyard filled with figures standing guard at the entrance.
As she walked across the courtyard she could see they were in fact statues; Athena, Artemis, Boudicca and a great denizen of other goddesses and women of history.
As she came to the entrance she could see carved in the stone above;
“Only the true of heart should enter here”
She paused for a moment looking back across the courtyard and the long torturous path it had taken her to get to where she was.
Finally, she took a deep breath and entered..
Romanticism/conservation
I have always been interested in conservation and have rather romantic
I have always been interested in conservation and have rather
romantic sensibilities (articles which reflect this can be found earlier in my
archive e.g.).
Below is an eclectic mix of these themes...
Whispering whims of whimsy
Whimsy, such an elemental cloud,
A cluster of sweet ideas,
A posy of purposeful prose with a preponderance for piety.
A cluster of sweet ideas,
A posy of purposeful prose with a preponderance for piety.
Wondering waifs, fanciful fruit of the imagination,
Flagrant fruits of fancy, wistful wonderings of the flowering mind.
Flagrant fruits of fancy, wistful wonderings of the flowering mind.
From voluptuous Venusian to Martian masculinity and every grain in
between,
The formation of ideas in the human mind is most likely the most beautiful thing I have ever seen.
The formation of ideas in the human mind is most likely the most beautiful thing I have ever seen.
Orb
Orb is a wonderful word, our collective orb is a wonderful world.
Seen from space it is an iridescent, gleaming, ‘pale blue dot’,
spaceship earth, our only home.
If we could all see with the eyes of a god this might give us a
clearer view of our situation: We have, very recently, become more aware of our
predicament, at least notionally.
Unfortunately for most of recorded (and most likely unrecorded)
history we have acted as if the world was a boundless plain, a flat earth of
plenty with no horizon.
As close as this was to the experiential reality of our ancestors
the physically limited domain that is our world has suffered the all to real
effects of our myopia.
Let us hope that we can learn to soar like an eagle with the eyes
of a god, tempered by the wisdom not to fly too close to the sun.
A Longship Query
Oh mighty boat of the ocean waves,
A trireme would see you as but a knave,
Are you and your crew as Napoleon and his wicked brew?
A trireme would see you as but a knave,
Are you and your crew as Napoleon and his wicked brew?
Are you ‘Great Interlopers’? Knaves of the wave,
Monsters from the deep sent to crush the brave?
Monsters from the deep sent to crush the brave?
From where do you seek your courage?
To which gods are you true?
To which gods are you true?
What ideas do you tie to your mast and do they fly true?
What is the nature of your wake?
Do you ask or take those you would have as your mates?
Do you ask or take those you would have as your mates?
Is the furrow of your prow a clear azure blue,
Or is it as crimson as the bloodied swords of your crew?
Or is it as crimson as the bloodied swords of your crew?
From distant lands you have come and far shores you go to.
Is there any plan in your quest for all things new?
Is there any plan in your quest for all things new?
King Play
A powerful creature, king of beasts,
Yet sometimes he famines sometimes he feasts.
For nature though fair no mercy she shows,
Although known for her beauty only cruel logic she knows.
Man the inventor, a plucky bird-beast,
Not known for his courage but for his cunning at least.
Bird-beasts and kings though long had fought,
An uneasy sort of truce had wrought.
Though then came the colonialist,
Arrogant and pale, newcomer to the East,
Only with greed and cruelty greets.
A plucky bird-beast,
Holding a lethal tree beak,
Picks his way past mires in the heat,
Rustling in khaki shorts he hunts,
For the king of beasts.
King stalks proud and sleek,
Winding his way through glades and reeds,
Eyes burning with intense heat.
He freezes, he stands, what is this he meets?
A bird-beast standing like a bull elephant,
To him, the king of beasts!
The tree beak of the bird beast spits and splits the air,
Crack, thud, red tears on red fur,
Kings eyes grow sharp, narrow with pain,
He roars, he charges, his foe to meet.
Crack, thud, red tears on red fur,
King falters to a lope, a stagger,
King sits, red tears from raw gums,
And roars at a decadent republic rising from the fall of a monarch.
Crack, thud, red tears on red fur,
With his last sight,
As bloodmist clouds day to night,
King sees a solitary tear,
Run down the bird-beast's cheek,