Planning For Change

sunset_tree_grande

(source)

Poised and pointed skywards

Long time standing

Alive within the earth’s

Nourishment

Numbered with the angels

Intervention

Gods join in

For actions with intent

Open to the seasons

Rising meanings

Calling on the strength of

Heaven lent

Answers on the winds

Nearest companions

Grateful for the 

Energy that’s sent

 

Lay Love

Lay love, if honestly, for who needs petals,

petals wilt and die,

as so they must,

lay love upon the earth, where life is buried,

love returns to source,

as all, to dust.

Lay love where’er we visit, who needs roses,

flowers fade away

like coloured time,

lay love upon each head, before the tombstones,

‘ere the death, lay love,

most potent sign.

The legacy was love, who mentioned flowers,

flowers are forgotten,

turn to seed,

lay love, upon each passing, before passing,

love’s wreath is all t’was asked for,

all we need.

Earth Angels

A new visitor to my blog yesterday particularly caught my attention by the title of his blog. Angel Frequency – subheaded Earth Angel Insights. I like angels. I spent some time browsing and clicking on links to other blogs. By the time I was finished ‘Earth Angels’ was stuck in my head as a name and a concept. This arose.

Calling all earth angels,

To the klaxon’s silent horn,

Insistent in its trumpeting,

Alerting silver’d swans,

Those keepers of the vital wings,

Enfolded in repose,

Vigilant to nascent cries,

Answering, they chose

To rise above, beyond, around, where

Compassion is required,

A glisten’d shift as up they lift,

Transcendent in clear fire,

Burning coals of snow and ice,

Fuelled from whiten’d lode,

A stone so small, a pebbled pulse

On gacial keep’s brick’d icy road,

Concentric in its lightning bright,

Spiralling in waves,

Attesting to the call, Awake!

From light beyond, they save.

Klaxon sounds from far away,

A pole we’ve never spied,

Calling all earth angels

To the time to rise and fly.

 

Positive Power

Now, Jack and Jill provided stuff for scores and scores of kids.

Mrs Jones cooked ingredients in pots and pans with lids.

Mrs Jones, their mother, oversaw the plan,

Used profits for their holidays, made sure they had a tan.

She quite forgot reinvestment to keep business afloat

So sold the lot for little and let others in to gloat

At all the deals they offered kids, though none as good as hers,

But, what the heck, they had some choice or they could wrap up warm in furs.

Kids grew ill from poorer deals and begged for energy,

Mrs Jones just sighed and said, ‘It’s nought to do with me.’

 

Now parents who were watching this formed a cunning plan.

‘Let’s make our own and share it out, profit everyone.’

Mains suppliers grew quite cross and threatened retribution,

We’ll pull the plug, through others, prior to your distribution.

Some parents feared the threats they made and shunned alternate ways,

Gave license to the bully boys, regret would cloud their days

As pollutants poured in atmosphere from every kind of harm,

Couldn’t see the benefits of water or wind farms.

Instead they let a mighty few, fraught with greed and power,

Reclaim the day, the night, the world, the minutes and the hours.

 

It came to pass that wars were had to protect the source supply,

Kids sent out, on pretexts, to maintain, reclaim or die.

Some there were who saw the ill of world in domination

To power supplies and oil cartels and bankers, multination.

That such a plan so simple, though requiring thought and vision,

Should wrest their power political, their purpose, point and mission

Drove the owners crazy, lost to right and reason,

‘Lose revenue, supremacy, to whims of nature’s seasons!’

Scuttled to the bunkers and scarpered for the hills,

Parents, kids and governments sighed and swallowed pill.

Tholing status quo as if blinkered by deceit,

Change a liability, back falling at their feet.

 

Unless, of course, a chance should come to harness once again

The energy from better source, Mother Nature and Just Men,

To seize the wind and fly once more, to aid and water all,

Humility in simplicity, no pride before our fall.

Reduced imprint in ownership of Gaia and all nations,

Positive power in every way, no less than heaven’s creation.

 

 

I couldn’t figure out how to write this post. No poetry came to mind at first and I don’t know enough about the intricacies of certain subjects to speak on them without getting into a fankle.

So I figured I’d go for what I’d do with my class or my kids when I’m trying to explain a point where the concept is better served by analogy. I started a little story about Jack and Jill Jones, personifications of the two power companies that once existed in the UK under national ownership until, in its wisdom, the government headed up by one Mrs T (can’t really bear to say her name) decided to sell them off for a song to private ownership. This has happened with all major utilities once owned by the people, now serving shareholders first and ultimately corporate finance whose heavy hand wields the stick capable of influencing decision making in the corridors of power, rightfully belonging to the citizens of a country.

A few months ago I was an undecided voter in the referendum due to take place one week from today. I was waiting to hear something that would convince me. I knew what it was but no one had spoken about it that I was aware of. Then I saw and heard this. That was it for me. Someone else was speaking my vision for me.

This morning I saw and heard this. I thought about it all day and couldn’t shift the belief that with investment, foresight and autonomy to do what is right, the people of Scotland have within their grasp the potential not only to decide their own future but to influence the world in a more positive way. That is what this is about. Positive power.

 

Footprints

Reading some blogs I follow today I came across seven words from this one that jumped out at me. What follows is the result of those words.

Tread lightly and lovingly

upon the earth,

Balletic strength in honed

resistance.

Rise high above 

the heavy hand,

Mother wreaks her own

persistence.


Tread lightly and lovingly

upon the earth,

Tip-toe through glens

and glades.

Hold hands and soar above

unscorched,

Partner’d faith to light

and shade.


Tread lightly and lovingly

upon the earth,

Inherent land mines 

lie

In fissures, faults and 

weaknesses,

She breathes 

a weary sigh.


Tread lightly and lovingly

upon the earth,

Her balance guides

the day.

Her storm of fury

in excess

Demands

another way.


Tread lightly and lovingly

upon the earth,

Night’s end should 

herald morn.

Tread lightly and lovingly 

upon the earth,

Erred footprints

trample dawn.

Trust

Before the globe,

was there a flat map

of a flat world,

little matchstick people,

standing around,

afraid to fall off the edge?

Is it any less strange than

to think of us teetering,

stuck out at odd angles

from the sides

of a sphere,

like the flares from the sun,

each one

a gaseous wonder

breezing into air

and colouring

atmosphere?

Reaching toward the

Karman Line,

trusting in the lift

and velocity,

to take us higher

than gravity,

further,

outwards,

reaching always;

temporal

to terminal,

thinning into 

ionosphere,

inhaling negative 

and positive

charge.

I know I stand upright,

most days,

when I’m not flat on my back

or kneeling,

praying for

a world where

gaseous exchange is unequal

and trust,

as a commodity

in short supply,

is the only thing keeping us

sticking to the surface.

Elysian Fields

I’m rising and falling

and floating thru’ time

like a leaf on a breeze

in the mist

to Elysian Fields,

lush pastures to seize

while a song plays and

drifts from my lips.

 

I open my eyes

to view what’s in store and

gasp with delight

at the scene;

my Mother and Father,

all those long gone,

dancing

as if in a dream.

 

Their laughter like lilacs,

their faces in bloom,

roses red

on each cheek,

my face shines with joy

at each girl and boy

suspended in time

that we seek.

 

Air rushes by,

my heart gives a cry

as I’m torn from this world

full of wonder

clouds scud the night,

spirit in flight, in a whirlpool

 I’m dragged

back down under

 

to life on the earth

where worries await

and trials are the test

of my soul.

But eyes closed, cast within

I see fields again

and the faces of my

Elysian goal.

Hope

All-gifted, all-giving, the gods did provoke,

Relinquished the right, them so to invoke.

Promethean crime, aid for mankind, aroused ire,

Retribution, from gods owning fire.

First woman among us, moulded from earth,

Bestowed by all deities, heavenly blessed.

But cursed by the gifts duality knows.

Determination, Zeus overthrows.

A gift bearing ills in a jar or a box,

Pandora relents and evil unlocks.

But hope still remains for good or for ill

Perception is all when hope does instil

Belief in the story of why god would choose

A mixture of gifts, some evil to use.

Is hope then a curse to action instead

Or essence to reflect on when life’s all but dead?

My hope is a blessing, that hope is a gift,

Enabling souls to elevate, to lift,

When all feels too empty, like box opened wide.

Let hope be the light that remains still inside.

candle 3

 

Collision Course

dust from a million stars entrap the gaze, transfixed

steadfastly upon one  place,

encompassing all planetary observations, revealing some,

concealing expectations,

filtering through endless darkened night, untold

wonders sought but out of sight,

resolute and confident in power, dynamic space and time

disclose the hour,

collision course for bodies in the heavens, transferential

fusion certain.

We Come

We don’t come to bring you down.

You do that to yourselves.

Travellers here from far-off lands,

Others follow,

There are plans

 

You’ll never know.

We won’t tell all

Till passing time reveals.

The nature of our purpose here

Travel, space conceals.

 

Treasures hidden in the stars

Voidal,

Vacuum, space.

No, we don’t come to bring you down.

You do that as a race.

 

We don’t settle once we come.

Ephemeral passing,

Little here to seek.

We, as voyeurs, write the heavens.

Chaos and cosmos speak.

 

We don’t bring censure,

Admonishment,

That’s not for us to try.

Mere observations for firmament’s

Unfolding, endless sky.