Medicinalmeadows

THE PLACE WITHIN


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Burning Times

When you burned, I burned with you

When you buried, I burned for you

In passion in flame in Holy name

I am Forest Father

The nature’s Pater

I burned for you

From ground to up above

Our essence of vapour and resin through the sky

To all sea, bird, creature and pebble nearby

As you changed to spirit on air

With wind and rain

I held our our branches to hold you again

On the arm of Grandfather Oak

Passed down to Mother Doe

To pine to ground

Gathered your spirit around

By branch and heather

In ash and soil in Gods own power to mycelium medicine

Within those resting hours

We hold you in woodland, nature’s roots

We carried you there to earth’s repair

We carried you over through the mighty air

Now sheltered with a canopy

Embedded to sacred ground

To oak, ash, yew and birch

Of Kin and Kith

Dwelling in arms of bark, heart of trunk

Of deer foot and bird above

Held by ivy

Entwined

With earth beneath you

Water to greet you

Wind to change you

Light to recreate you

Ancestors of root of seed and bud

Growing earthly

Living on

Forest of my blood, evergreen

Forest of Fatherhood


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Love

I am the Love that never dies
I am She who calls to you from whispers, sound, vibrations of the Heart.
I come in Dark and Light
In Strength and Fear
Do not fade at what comes before you
Do not bluster or storm
You are always in my Love
I am carrying your torch of Light
To guide a way for you to be open
Be present
Be in Teaching
Of the moment
Nothing evades you
Nothing withheld from you
As all love can be received
All thanks to Love
In openness
Of Divine Love
Be open
Be gracious
Of the Love that never dies


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Spring Equinox


To bird song
up in the tree
laughter sort
and gaiety

For dawn to break
with warming rays
comfort found
from cloudy days

To sounds so sweet
warmth entwine
embrace complete
To love divine

WPC: I’d Rather Be

 


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Beach Life

My path took me to the waters edge

and pulled me back

feet on the sand

of moveable ground

And my eyes upon the skies

of appearing

pink hues of

another sunset

Release to resolve

is the talk of the wind

caressing my hair

than saltiness on the lips

The words are now far behind

and impressions

not yet made

in the sand ahead

Daily Post: Lifestyle

 


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Haibun: Night Time

As the end of the day
merges into night
the clock pushes
the minutes into hours
turning over to the next day
What will tomorrow bring?
that will be told tomorrow
As time shrinks to midnight
I am grateful for all that is
All that has been told

Day merges to night
Turning over through midnight
As moments unfold

For #NaPoWriMo

This is a haibun, a combination of prose poem and haiku.


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For the sun will rise higher

conistonclouds
the day is long
and yet the sun
shines for a short time
as winter is not yet done
 
the sun rises but
not so high as to
reach the garden chair
or flower beds for glory
 
power of the shine
is for only a spell
as I am reminded
of days that will come
 
a brief glimpse
of golden rays
spark of brighter days and
hope as spring will surely come


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Snowdrops – Winter’s Delicate Flower

Snowdrops1

Snowdrops are a delightful sight in February. They give a bright feel to mossy grounds which sparks a little joy on a grey day. These flowers are known to have approximately 20 variations of species and can grow up to 30cm tall. The botanical name is Galanthus, gala in Greek means “milk” and anthos, meaning “flower”(Wikipedia.org).

Although they are cultivated far and wide it is thought that they are native to eastern Europe. It is believed that many soldiers of the Crimean War brought small bundles of these bulbs back to Britain, but were first documented in Botanical text in the 16th century (www.nhm.ac.uk). Today they are cherished and there are dedicated Snowdrop Gardens open throughout the UK.

The snowdrops delicate nature has attracted the attention of many poets. Emily Dickinson, the garden lover, often uses metaphors to describe elements of nature. In the poem “I taste a liquor never brewed” she is giving praise to her garden, “drunk” on the intoxication of scent, beauty and botanical skills in cultivation. She uses metaphor to convey feelings, in my opinion, of her joy in the garden. I love the last stanza as she refers to the “seraphs” (a variety of snowdrop) as they “swing their snowy hats”.

I taste a liquor never brewed –
From Tankards scooped in Pearl –
Not all the Vats upon the Rhinesnowdrops3
Yield such an Alcohol!
 
Inebriate of air – am I –
And Debauchee of Dew –
Reeling – thro’ endless summer days –
From inns of Molten Blue –
 
When “Landlords” turn the drunken Bee
Out of the Foxglove’s door –
When Butterflies – renounce their “drams” –
I shall but drink the more!
 
Till Seraphs swing their snowy Hats –
And Saints – to windows run –
To see the little Tippler
Leaning against the – Sun!

By Emily Dickinson.
 
William Wordsworth also thought of these little white flowers as angelic. In his poem “On seeing a tuft of snowdrops in a storm”, he uses words such as “faithful and immortal”.

snowdrops2When haughty expectations prostrate lie,
And grandeur crouches like a guilty thing,
Oft shall the lowly weak, till nature bring
Mature release, in fair society
Survive, and Fortune’s utmost anger try;
Like these frail snow-drops that together cling,
And nod their helmets smitten by the wing
Of many a furious whirlblast sweeping by.
Observe the faithful flowers! if small to great
May lead the thoughts, thus struggling used to stand
The Emathian phalanx, nobly obstinate;
And so the bright immortal Theban band,
Whom onset, fiercely urged at Jove’s  command,
Might overwhelm, but could not separate!
By William Wordsworth.
 

Dailypost – Winter’s Delicate Flower

http://www.poetryfoundation.org/

http://www.nhm.ac.uk/natureplus/blogs/wildlife-garden/2014/01/27/snowdrop-history?fromGateway=true

https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Galanthus

Photographs by Medicinalmeadows.com

 


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It’s Still Early….

stillearly

It’s still early and the light
from the dimming sun
is fading out of sight.

Clouds cast their net but
a stream of yellow beams
seeps to illuminate time.

A whisp of cold with a
crisp caress chills as the
sun sinks behind the hills.

Darkness will pull up
the moon and born is a
velvet sky adorning the stars.

For the WPC: Time