midwinter mystery

Solstice Full Moon 2010

an Enchantment in the meadow

feathery stalks of crystal

glittering boughs

not boughs

beneath our feet

coalesced in thin air

fragile as the dawn

cold stone, my seat

some other’s wish beneath me

holding space

ice heart frozen with longing

to be Home

to be Here

in the Sacred Center

awash in diamond Light

if only

for a moment

burned and black

the detritus of fires left behind

by lovers and poets

the myriad facets of the dark-breathed

Deep, the breath of caves

the breath of the flames

at the heart of the World

licking up in Memory

and Anticipation

the moon escaped the clutching branches

etched on the clear night sky

and turning her face

fled to share the morning

with Sunlight all Aglow

and yearning

Deep! O! Yearning

for solstice’s shivering completion

and the Reawakening of the Crone

as Nymph

grandmother waxes, gravid beyond her time

labouring through the long dark night

to give Birth to the new year



photo credit: Martin Liebermann
Image (C) by www.martin-liebermann.de

crushed pearls

                                     with Cosmic Legends, Sylvie Degiez and Wayne Lopes

The Beat

                                                                                                                                              photo by Jan Sosnowitz

there is the breath of genius in these hills

the heartbeat of the earth

retold in song

the bowl that catches golden drops

of heaven and reflects them

etched in perfect Wonder

back into the skies

the eyes

of All Love

destination unknown and uncaring

Time is of no essence

the Voices whisper secret leaf-song

scream the mighty limbs at windstorm

howl at moonlit night

pierced by stars

there is the heart and soul of genius

in these hills

the bowl is filled and emptied

filled and emptied

ineffable smoke and mists of ancient colours

antique memories silenced drums return

rising

from the cracks beneath my feet

the exhalation of the old ones

told in the beat

          the beat

     the beat

the memory of silent footsteps Rings these hills

crisp morning mountains icy cut the dawn

releasing earth honey scented live air

miasma calling me to ground

or heaven

bird and insect chatter and hum shuttered

shattered

by night’s frozen blast

frost

locks the hearts the poems the fire-lit tales

inside the Heart the hearth the home

as winter folds us

in dream-time gathering time

listening time

there is the breath of untold stories

in these hills

the songs of those never recorded

whose voices wail in nightmare sendings

whose lost tales beg in the swirling vortices

of firmament

to be told and heard and carried

farther than one bag of skin and bones

one mind

the tears and dreams and antic schemes

of this generation

as last generation

as every cohort of this oddly-begotten race

crawls then walks then runs burning brightly

flaring

and then giving up the flame

in ghostly embers

campfires in the depths of forests

no longer here

tell the tales and sing the songs

though heart break

though breath stop

though mind cease

the light the colour the sound

will always be reborn

it’s the Nature of the ever-changing

cloud dioramas

play with the palettes of the sun

the moon

wind choreographs the trees

to ghostly poetry of jazz

beat skirling past the rushing water

skipping over stones

and headlong over mossy boulder’s edge

tumbling torrent telling

of the lost ones

Listen!

© 2012 pamela twining

after the rain

photo by david j nightingale

summer rusting down to fall

where spring breathed frosty green

but a moment gone

once ice sharp emerald

tending towards russet now

dried seed-heads offering summer’s richness

back to the mother of all
for winter's Keeping

this cathedral has no walls

these hymns, no words

prayers inchoate formed

from language remembered from the womb

all Knowings outside any realm inhabited

since before the Wall

before the impenetrable curtain

of possibilities

fell around the singular self

defining space and time

and in defining

limiting

in the first morning light

last night’s downpour is captured
shimmering

in the cups of leaves and blossoms

hollows of stone

ephemeral promise that this day is new

pathways unexplored open

lead the traveller soul

into sudden mysteries of sun and shadow

and my place on this wheel a blip

in all of Time

but the Breath

ah! the Breath!

there is nothing that can still

heaven’s wind

the Word made flesh

dwells always among us

songs and stories plucked from the Divine Unconscious

and spilled into the minds the hearts

the dancing feet

of those who wait for god

© 2011 pamela twining

pilgrim heart

Love 

your name is Love

and i have sought you

in all the rooms and corners of my soul

down the long corridors of Days

in dreams and nightmares

when memories are not enough

i look to heaven

i know your name

your name is Love

through my most grievous fault

my soul was severed from completeness

a moment’s lack of Trust

consequences reverberate through Time

i raised my lamp high

the better to see you

one drop of oil fell

burning your shoulder, startling you awake

and in that moment

knowing i was not Whole

you fled

i know your name

which you chose to hide from me

but i rebelled

claiming more than you were willing

to give me then

and so i lost you

wandering

seeking

always seeing you flickering

in my Deepest Vision

just ahead

shimmering in my Joyous sight

when i approach

a mirage

gone again

as the light waves in my eyes disband

dissolved in tears

our love was Whole

i bear the children your soul offered me

Light and Inspiration

you asked one thing of me

and i could not see

in Blindness failing not only you

but Love

i know your name

your name is Love

and when we meet again

i’ll tell you mine

© 2011 pamela twining

breaking fast

                                                                ~ for esther         

in sight of the smoke

of morning cook fires

i remember the passing of elders

from the realm of Time

the Knowing

that if we are to have them

we must see their faces in the dew

sparkling in mist-shrouded hollows

hear their voices in the Silence

marked by the musical chatter

of the creatures of the dawn

and the homely noise of the firekeepers

the makers of food

preparing to share the bounty of another day

in the meadow

the family awakens

and comes forth to feasting

awakens to the sound of the grandmothers

singing morning blessings

awakens to the communion of souls in Time

only to recognize the Timelessness

of All

the grandmothers, the grandfathers

call to us with their last breath

endlessly resonating on the wind

the breath of generations

never gone

transmuted

the family remembers how to listen

how to see

sharing fire and bread, drum and dance

refining the web

that makes from many

One

© 2011 pamela twining

photo: swapan mukherjee

today

i met you in Magic Meadow

today

and we held hands

and listened to the wind

soughing intermittently through the trees

the music of the Wild

the only sound

i walked with you in the Poet’s Walk

today

and we poured our minds

our hearts our lives

into the golden hudson valley bowl

reflecting our songs up

into the ever-magnificent

ever-changing catskill mountain skies

i waved to you from Olana

today

across that ancient river

the vast expanse that lies between us

in brilliant clarity

the air crackles with light and passion

there is no distance

in the world of love

© 2011 pamela twining

  Photo: Clouds Over Olana ~ Frederick Edwin Church