Wednesday, 26 July 2017

Sanctuary

The practice of meditation is a personal ongoing journey that takes me down a path to the reliance of my own awareness. Sometimes, however, I may feel that nothing has been achieved, apart from the art of the practice of just being in an inner place to reflect.

The sanctuary of stillness
when the feral world runs wild.
Inhale, accept, exhale, be free;
body still, body quiet:
take these precious moments
relax in the sanctuary of being.


Julian Clarke © 2017


Sunday, 23 July 2017

In Memory

Valour

Beautiful flowers laid in memory
for beautiful souls once vibrant,
folk like me and you, just ordinary.

Regimented wreaths laid for the valiant
brave men and women of land, sea and air,
you’re saluted with emotion, so ardent.

We thank you in silence, with a prayer.

Julian Clarke © 2017


Sunday, 16 July 2017

End of the line

For Brendans weekend challenge: Imagaine a Changing Earth. At 'Imaginary Gardens with Real Toads' and what a challenge this was.


Crystal meanderings on ochre bed
romancing of song from a babbling brook,
a willow weeps, not in sadness, but joy;
dragonflies, blue green, skitty in the sun.
Along its banks, lovers touch lips and kiss
free of the fever of life’s concessions.
Right here, love . . . is love, not a possession.

Woooosshhh------thhwack

Inter-city train,
argh! Rush, crush, sardines,
standing room.
Smelly armpits, yuk!

Calling at all stations:
Polluted oceans, carbon monoxide, greenhouse gas,
Now stoppin at De-forestation.

We’re all here for the ride
Glued to the fever
living concessions
possessive lovers
hugging possessions.

Trans-continentals final stop:
Depleted ozone, affectionately known as, Apocalyptic Dystopia … 
End of the line.

Julian Clarke © 2017.


Linked to Imaginary gardens for Brendans weekend challenge: Imagaine a Changing Earth.




Thursday, 29 June 2017

A Ballet: Forbidden Love

Act 2, scenes 1 and 2

Epoch 1872: mid-summers eve
Setting:  glade in ancient woodland
Principals: Ballerino with Prima Ballerina

Scn.1  
            And now, the Stradivarius begins.
            With such graceful fluidity you glide;
            I slide forward, in awe of your beauty.
            Oh, ballerina, the dance lives for you.

            Heavy hearted, and with arms open I’m 
            seduced by your arabesque, arms allongĂ©
            reaching for clouds that scurry across a
            true love on this warm celestial night.

Scn.2
            A symphonic cacophony, then hush . . .
            The violin leads your adagio.
            My heart falters, ragged in peasant clothes.
            Sadly, I ask, ‘is this to be your swan song?’

            Coquettishly, you tilt your head, listen,
            the piccolos tune frees you from the trance;           
            and the Stradivarius plays with gusto.
            “Dear ballerino, forever we shall dance.”

End.
Curtain call

Julian Clarke © 2017








Tuesday, 27 June 2017

A study: Oil on canvs 1970

Bohemian in her semi-nude pose,
Dunhill cigarette impatiently burns
Belying loves truth of white petal rose.

Art of capriciousness in amber eyes
Captures spirit like dancing fireflies,

Lying abandoned, Pucci, Capri pants,
With chiffon scarf her modesty covered in scant.

Of course her playfulness be cast in part
Cold Excalibur, drawn, pricks crimson heart.

Poets scribe her in gilded lily prose.
Enigmatically the painter flourished
Blood red, on lips, thorn of Baccara rose.

Julian Clarke © 2017

I shall link to Poets United Sunday Pantry