Tag Archives: Poems

Boscawen-Ûn, Summer Solstice

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Our Summer Solstice Song

(ideally to be shared with a glass of champagne and a piece of Poppy cake with whomever happens to be around)


The Sky and the Stars above,

The Sacred Land and Other World below,

The Human and the living Spirit within.

To the East is the power of Air, Dawn, Spring;

To the South is the power of Fire, Noonday, Summer;

To the West is the power of Water, Evening, Autumn;

To the North is the power of Earth, Night, Winter.

Let the Stones be heard, let the Stones be seen,

Let the Magic rise up out of the Dream.

Let Light descend, let Love abound,

Let Energy arise up out of the ground.

We surrender ourselves to the  One Creative Mind

That Orchestrates the only True Song of the Universe.

Trust the winds of Heaven to continue to dance between us,

The Fires burn within us, and the Waters to flow through us

  And share our Sacred journey through this life together.

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Filed under my sketchbook pages, Walks

Spring Awakening

Studio Brushes

Heart beat quickens, no time to afford,

Forget the chores not yet scored,

Clear my desk, prepare my board,

Paper-clipped, pencils sawed.

Blood begins to course once more

Now dance to the tune of that familiar score.

Paint splattered clog beats wood against wood

Get in the groove, no interruptions, understood?

Clasp mittened-fingers tightly round cup

Smokey espresso wafts over the set,

Adjust subject and light for maximum effect,

And prepare to let go with materials select.

As hand and eye merge into one sort of mind

Leave a blackened trail of dust behind.

Score paper with sticks, smudge fingers through marks,

Putty out white lights from fallout sparks.

Squeeze buttery hues, mix some with sand.

Let loose abandoned caps with pliers to hand.

Dab inky puddles with twigs I have found,

Scratch out a semblance, cross-hatch into scribble,

Turn drips into dots, extend a line from a dribble, and very soon,

Covering paper sheets as pale as the moon,

A myriad of drawings about me are strewn.

Dark winter days turn into weeks, turn to months, and then

From the free flow of chaos a new order emerges

Select the best, an exhibition urges.

Caro Woods, February, 2011

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Filed under my sketchbook pages

lace cap hydrangeas

 

lace cap hydrangeas

Clover petals in clusters of cream

Shades of white, and soft ultramarine,

Standing on stalks above fawn pom-pom tops

Turning to paper with pink peppery spots.

Leggy sweet peas swaying, tall scented heads

Cut from long shadows in late Autumn beds,

Faded remnants of late Summer’s bloom

Sparkling jewels peeping out of the gloom.

Symbols of hope that life lingers on

A little bit jaded, but definitely not done.

Arranged in the pot unearthed near the tree

A sweet-smelling posy presented to me.

Denied icy winds or snows to devour

My latest venture, my muse to inspire.

A simple still-life, yet therein lies,

Just take a moment to feast the eyes:

There, placed on the table covered with cloth

That had lain on the floor in front of the hearth,

Visible proof of slumber before Spring

A moment of stillness for breathing again.

Caro Woods, January 2011

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Filed under my sketchbook pages