Empty…

With the exaggerated care

Of the weary

Placing the used up

Snakeskin of the year

On the bonfire of his vanity

He stepped back.

 

He watched the fickle,

Trickle of his dreams,

Rise insubstantive and insubstantial

On the fluttering moth wings of hope

And with his heart

He blew a farewell kiss.

 

In the dark winter night

The orange red flame

Consumed the essence

Nurtured and garnered

In all his deeds.

 

On the field of Gold,

The banners lay

And the mandolins

Sung of battles won

And of battles lost.

 

From the desert swell

He carried that cup

And as he held it high

He spilled that last

Vital drop.

 

In the silent

Crystal night,

The echo of his

Words rang out

Their haunting melancholy ring

Into the absent wood.

 

Feeling now that aching

Arching no-thing

Of his soul

He stroked the egg shell cavern

 Of his ping pong

Life.

 

And in the once resplendent

Halls of his dream

He found the comforting

Emptiness of

Being fully spent.

 

And now

He reached down

To find that fragile

Seed of the new.

 

And to plant it

Once more upon the

Windswept,

Landscape of his dream.

Abdul bin Amir

A thousand blessings on you

Abdul bin Amir

As you walked those camels

In the desert, of a fear

 

To hunt the echoes in the winds

‘Cross the chasms of words unsaid

And at the last chance bazaar

Where hearts cost less, than parvé bread

 

A thousand blessings on you

Abdul bin Amir

As you fed the horses

In the winter, of the year

 

To walk the caravan’s passing blues

At the rendez-vous of fools

Where all the glittering gold

Is made by other, earthly tools

 

A thousand blessings on you

Abdul bin Amir

As you count each letter

That you never sent

 

To tell the King of the ships

In the harbour fair

Bringing words from all the lands

With cargo of the lightest tare

 

A thousand blessings on you

Abdul bin Amir

As you kept to the business

That was to leave,…alone

 

And in the silence of your words

You watched and weighted

For the slightest sign

Yet breath for you, ‘twas not fated

 

A thousand blessings on you

Abdul bin Amir

As the ghosts of friendship

Flowed fast o’er the weir

 

And as the surgeon in his leather smock

Cuts your body for all to see

To show them

Exactly as, ‘twas meant to be

 

A thousand blessings on you

Abdul bin Amir

As the ring of fire surrounds

Your earthly form

 

And the chatter at the market stalls

Catches truth in plastic bags

To wrap a carp each day

And warm the china, of the paper walls

 

A thousand blessings on you

Abdul bin Amir

As the pixel promise joins the dots

Of a hope, oh so queer

 

And the flutter-by butterfly closes

Its iridescent wings

And checks its tongues before

Once more, may choose to sing

 

A thousand blessings on you

Abdul bin Amir

And thank you for always

Having been, right here.

Dancing the edge

Tingling and tangling

Dancing the razor’s edge

On the weary toes of… hope

 

Searching the dark

winding

Passages wound

In the Lenten fabric of

before

 

Watching the whirring

Windmills of the mind

Step with Scheherazade

On to

The fragile stage of fate

 

In the wind comes

The fiddler’s note

Carving the heart strings

Tidal pull

 

And surging with Passion,

To bathe away doubt

Hung in a moment

On a bridge still to cross

 

In the never ending

In between

Of the vital, living, now

 

In the corner shop cavern

Of the aching heart

Searching the shelves

For that final ounce

 

Wrapping it well

With a moistened

Tear stained bow

 

And giving it anyway

Because…

 

That is what it means

………… to be truly alive.

Y Ddraig Goch

Eyes closed,

In his homeland,

On the spare bed,

He exhaled.

 

Sunk into the depths of his being,

Waiting.

 

The darkness breaks

And…..

Old,

Very old,

 

He saw it.

He saw it,

Waiting.

 

Quickening of breath,

Huh, huh, huh,

It began to form.

 

Summoning the dragon to guide him.

 

Those eyes….

They watched him.

 

Patience and waiting.

 

He touched its power,

Felt it absorb him,

His him probed with an awareness.

 

Alien and ancient.

 

Terror, blind terror.

 

Lithe and poised

Those eyes….

 

Wise beyond wisdom

Since the first days of man

And beyond.

 

Amused and laughing,

In smoke.

 

He held it and the fire in his heart

Began to burn.

 

The crows outside called

Their battlefield cry,

Hungering for food

 

Taken on the caw to another time.

 

Heathered hillside,

In the mist of lore

The dragon breath cloaks

Shimmering in be-coming.

 

Hessian cloth upon his skin

Staff in his hand,

Rain in his beard

And silence in the world.

 

Weary

Proud

Beaten

Defiant

 

Behind him,

They marched,

From their deaths to their deaths,

 

They reached the place

And settled on the rocks.

 

Less faces than before

Heads hung on Castle gates.

 

And those eyes.

 

Why must they stand and die?

 

Doubts, oh the doubts

They plagued him

 

It hangs all on the next few seconds.

 

The dragon’s dice have been rolled

His fate is sealed.

 

What was it that the wizard said?

 

“Re-member, re-member.

Focus on the feelings for that is what you store.

The memory will guide you back

Learn the lessons well….

For next time”

 

He reached into his pack and took it out.

He tied the flag to his staff.

Silently and into the circle he walked.

 

He planted his staff and unfurled the flag.

 

Y Ddraig Goch.

 

They watched him

And slowly someone began to sing.

 

The sound of a hundred Male voices together

Blew back the mist

And the sun broke through.

 

One by one they stood.

They drew their swords and stabbed the heavens.

 

By God if we die to day

Then at least we have died free men.

 

Hope flies on the dragon’s wings

Red and redder,

Like the blood of our foes.

 

Vengeance is ours,

For the lives of our brothers,

And the treachery visited upon us.

 

Let us kneel

And pray God that this bitter day,

Will seal our fate,

And theirs.

 

Are you ready Sons of Wales?

To rise against the Temple of the mind?

To send it crashing with the brimstone of the Heart?

 

Look to the Dragon’s eyes my friends

And see there your courage, your faith and your hope.

Let it conjure in you.

Feel its ancient force.

 

Written in the hillsides and the valleys of your lives,

Washed through your rivers,

Permeating your being-ness with the dragon’s fire.

 

Pure magic.

If we believe, though we are few, we can call the dragon to our aid.

We are an ancient race and we have been here long.

 

We have sung our songs and shared our poems.

We have laughed and we have cried.

We have learned.

 

This is now our last battle.