Nightmare

The storm on Friday night felled the old horse chestnut tree in the wood behind my house. In Autumn when the leaves fall from a horse chestnut it leaves a scar on the twig which resembles an inverted horse shoe with nail holes. It started me thinking about the Goddess Epona again. Epona was called 'Mare' (MAH-ray) by the Irish of Dalriada, she was the bringer of dreams good and bad. The English word 'nightmare' is derived from her Irish name and her association with horses and dreams. Epona is often depicted riding a white horse. Anyway all these thoughts swirling around in my head found their way out in a poem.

Nightmare

Beneath the gnarled contorted skin

A nightmare stirred deep within

She feared not the baying pack

It wasn't her scent the rabid beasts tracked

Their quarry, her protector, her cage

Who's ravaged ageing frame

Stood testimony to countless battles raged

Against Winter gales and torrential rain

He'd held his ground

He remained unslain

In for the kill the howling hounds attacked

Splitting, stripping

The wooden armour from his back

Eighty strong they tore at him

Ripping limb for limb

Then I heard that final ear splitting crack

Slain, his dismembered trunk

Lay strewn across a storm teared track

Now freed from a Horse Chestnut skin

A white nightmare soared from deep within

Elen of the Ways

Working on a pen and ink drawing - Elen of the Ways.

Love Addiction

Love is like a roller coaster
Full of highs and lows
When we are together
A river of ecstasy flows

Distance is the killer
That's when the darkness comes
Anger and resentment
Are what my life becomes

But this love is a false love
A fantasy that grew
Where unconditional love was lacking
Addiction did ensue

Nonconformity

This little fella was destined to become a Christmas decoration but after knitting several identical ones I feel a piece of artwork starting to emerge. A couple of poetic lines popped into to me head too.

Nonconformity

Isolated I stand,
against the growing monoculture of human kind,

The larch does not conform,
laid bare in winter she looks forlorn,

But she like me is not depressed,
She merely rests to await her time.

A Work in Progress

Remember if you woke up this morning feeling broken, a thousand shards scattered, beyond repair, do not loose hope. Pick up the pieces you can find and work lovingly with them. Reshape them, add new ones and in time you will become like a beautiful glass sculpture. As you grow a little each day your light will begin to radiate outwards; a beautiful rainbow of colour. You can heal, you are the artist, become the sculpture of your lifework. Work with love to create something truly beautiful.

Soul Searching

Bleak and cold the desolate landscape I roam,
Devoid of vibrant hues and tones,
Lost beneath an impenetrable freeze,
Darkness has come to bedeck my home,

Winter's army mercilessly invades,
Takes no prisoners, no slaves,
And my defeated soul, long tortured, retreats,
To the place where demons grow,

Lost in Hades' world where fear resides,
I do not die,
I sleep and dream of Spring,
And glimpse those vibrant colours that reside within.

The inspiration for the poem came from a painting by artist Graham Wallace. The artwork like all of us is a work in progress.

https://www.facebook.com/Graham-Wallace-Art-278319268894770/ 

Fake Friends

Fake friends are like a fake tan; they're all over you, very superficial and don't last long. Don't waste your investment on a fake bake.