Swallows fly in skies of blue.

A trail of sun-dust, an evening hue.

Swooping fast, they circle me.

Chasing each other, they dive for the sea.

The mermaid’s tones transform all three,

As they fall ‘neath the waves at skeleton quay.

Azure dolphins fly with grace,

Through the towers of this watery place.

The volcanic fires scorch the trees,

The salamander grins; more fire please.

They blink their eyes and turn to dust,

As they sink beneath the earthen crust.

The Night Elf

One of my favourite childhood books is “Peter William Butterblow and Other Little Folk” by C. J. Moore. I have written many poems reminiscent of its verses. This is one that I found while sorting through old notebooks which I feel speaks to that same sense of wonder which this work of C. J. Moore, Marianne Gariff, Alfred Baur, and Hedwig Diestel still instils in me today.

The Night Elf.

Why does the night elf slip between rails

and dust chandeliers without mops, rags, or pails?

Why does he sweep and mop the floors,

and whistle and hum while he completes his chores?

All for a little saucer of milk,

or he’s out through the door,

padding away on slippers of silk.

The Ocean’s Harmony

​Standing on a cliff,
The rim of the galaxy.

I look down into the deep
The waters rough, call out to me.

They break across the rocky shore,
Washing clean my memory.

Angry tides pull at the coast,
Folding it back into the sea.

With half an ear, I listen to her cry.
The end of some great symphony.

Then I learned to hear the Ocean.
“Open your ears.” Says she.

In that quiet; the shouts, the cries!
I thought they were meant for me.

But they were meant for a world long turned deaf
To the song of the seven seas.

To late, I see the ground fall free,
Open beneath my feet.
Waiting for me to fall towards
The end of eternity.

Sitting Room

Let us not forget the warmth of Fire

crackling merrily away.

How reluctant are we to leave its side.

Warm clothes and blankets.

Hot drinks and food.

All are best had fireside.

So let us light the flame.

Welcome in that glowing warmth.

That loves us all the same.

The Land Is Dead

The land is dead.

But it is life which remains.

Logs set a’blaze.

Bowls filled with food.

Cups a’brim with wine.

Lips alive with laughter.

Though the land is cold,

our hearts are warm.

Though the land is still,

our bodies will dance.

Though the land is dead,

our souls are alive.

Chain Link

Now ice cold iron,

frozen in molten glory.

Once a sleeping stone.

A stone held in place,

the Earth encompasses her.

Beloved by the soil.

Dreams of Creation,

soon a delightful voyage.

But for now relaxed.

Opportunity.    ​

Never hold back her desire.

Stone turns to armour.

What Is Winter?

What is Winter?​

All it takes is one frozen drop.​

One kaleidoscopic flake of winter

to fall gracefully from the heavens.​

All it takes is one line of ice.

One explorer of a watery frontier

to freeze a trail into the deep.

All it takes is one green needle.​

One sliver of eternal life

to steadfastly refuse to fall.

All it takes is one bright candle.

One luminous guardian of light

to hold its vigil in the dark.​

This is all it takes…

The Seige

A heavy veil of scarlet dusk settles over the ash stone walls of Selgar.
Inside, the People grow weery of the on coming morn.
Men dressed in crimson robes, quickly thrown over vests of steel.
Shadows cover the charred earth as the talk siege engines block out the sun.
An old crone feeds her grandchild hemlock and a burly bartender locks his family in the cellar.
Two old men sit at a table, betting on the next race they know will never come.
The frantic people seek escape and protection. Others turn to denile.
But up on the rooftops grim archers lie behind shields that they know will fail.
The army of Bairne has arrived.