PURPLE PROSE?

To stroll through such a breathtaking array of Wisteria as this must be like walking amid a mauve mist of fragrant dreams, as far removed from the mundane reality of the everyday world as it is possible to imagine, and inspiring a very different kind of purple prose from the type normally associated with this phrase.


PURPLE PROSE?

I could lose myself in subtle shades of lilac and lavender,
Immersed in a miasma of mauve and magenta,
Empurpled in veils of summer-dreamed violet.
Yes, I could lose myself so easily in lavender and lilac,
And who would ever know?

THE COMING OF AUTUMN

When I looked at this wonderful illustration, I envisaged Autumn's subtle, scarcely-perceived, yet irresistible approach, and wrote the following lines accordingly.


THE COMING OF AUTUMN

Autumn in auburn draws closer, ever nearer,
The last green swathes of Summer scuttle by
Like lizards before her golden shadow,
Evading for now her amber embrace,
Yet still destined to die
Within her soft mellow mists of russet and copper,
As, indeed, are we all.

BORNE INTO TOMORROW

Strange as it may sound, this is one poem that quite literally wrote itself. There was no planning, no previous thought involved – I simply sat down one day with a blank sheet of paper and pen, the words came unbidden into my head, and I wrote them down, acting as little more than a thoroughfare along which the verses coursed, fully-formed, from my mind and onto the paper. If only all poetry were as easy to write!


BORNE INTO TOMORROW

The webs of Night draw back their gowns
As rosy clouds of Morning
Pass softly through the waking sky,
While still the sun lies yawning
Beneath a drape of starry sleep
From which the dreams of Evening peep.

But mine are dreams from far beyond,
Sent ever by the future,
Like golden keys to shrouded doors
Of Nature’s hidden sutures.
For these, my life must make its ways
Through shadow worlds and lightless days.

Alone I stand – my world has gone –
The past was mine, not present.
Now shades of Death lie all around.
As I – a humble peasant –
Move slowly through and ever on,
Until my dreams at last are done.

These worlds are strange, unknown to me,
For these I have no feeling.
And only stars may see my grief
From Heaven’s spangled ceiling,
As on I pass through sombre dawns
While e’er for Light my spirit mourns.

But I must bear my silent doom
In alien surroundings,
And suffer as the world demands
Of me – a lonely foundling,
With dreams for which my spirit lives,
For which my life I freely give.

And so, though oft my chosen way
Is dismal and despairing,
I must prevail through dark terrains
Within this world uncaring,
Through deathly vales where shadows loom,
Before my dreams can light their gloom.

Yet this is but a twilit zone
Of deep, forbidding sorrow,
Which all must e’er endure if they
Are borne into Tomorrow,
Until their dreams are each fulfilled,
As Destiny and Fate have willed.

But when at last my pathways end,
When dreams are dreams no longer,
My world will call, with songs of Peace,
My spirit – free and stronger.
And I shall go, and this will seem
To be at most a bitter dream.

THE PIPER

After viewing this entrancing artwork, the following words were carried to me upon the wind of evening, as light and as free as the dancing notes from the piper's flute.

THE PIPER

The piper plays her pale banshee notes,
Soft and shivering in silver elfin dusk,
And I am lost, a child alone in the darkness,
With only the silent white ravens of Faerie
To greet me, to come to me, or to take me back home.

UNICORN IN THE SNOW

I have always been fascinated by unicorns - to me, they epitomise the purity and joy of Nature, which have always given me so much pleasure and happiness throughout my life, and without which there would be so little of either for me.

UNICORN IN THE SNOW

The unicorn stepped softly through the snow,
Its sparkling horn and hide illuminated by the sunlight above,
Caressed by the moonlight before,
And dappled by the starlight all about.
And as it moved on, so too did the brightness,
So too did the whiteness,
So too did all life.
And when it was gone,
So too was the light,
So too was the world,
And so too was I.

POST-OZ

Nothing lasts forever, not even fairy tales, but something will always be present...

POST-OZ

Long after the Emerald City is no more,
In a time beyond wizards, witches, and cyclones,
When Oz is a distant memory, and Dorothy but a dream,
The world will continue, the sun will still shine,
And the land will be green…

YEARNINGS

'Sweet Dreams' (Elda The)

The wistfully innocent, delicately poignant, and potently nostalgic qualities of the above painting subtly combined and intermingled within my mind as I viewed it, until I found myself expressing my innermost yearnings in the following lines.

YEARNINGS

Ah...
For those long-vanished days
Of childhood, innocence, and optimism,
When everything seemed possible,
And the world was an exciting place,
Full of sweet promise and wonder.