A poem - Hope (2022)

Rare strains sound in the quiet heart,

Permit discord to depart.

Harmony blesseth every person's ear,

Springtime's birdsong comes near.

A poem - Theft (2008)

Dread-cold slabs of iron-stone

Slam down and crushing steal

Warmth, light, direction, isolate

Hope, heart and dreams and will.

The crushing looming horror weighs

On soul and mind, my heart!

Lord bless this soul,

So cold so old,

So cruelly set apart.

The Firecrest and How He Became King of the Birds (2020)

Caractacus Plumefeather, Noble Chieftain of the Little Owls, High Beak, and First Minister of the People of the Feathered Wing, shook up his small, round, brown wings, ruffled up his tan chest feathers, coughed, hiccuped, fell over, got back up again (with an oak leaf curling on his head), and gave three loud clear hoots to call the assembled People of the Feather to order.

Silence quickly fell over the Parliament Dell, deep inside the ancient green, black and brown forest.(After much shuffling, coughing and many excited little hoots and whistles of course!)

The Feathered People well knew that this was an Important Day.

A Great Gathering had not been called since the High Queen Pulchritude Longneck, the proud Chieftain of the Swan People, had gone to guard the deep pools beyond the Vaults of Heaven some ten years before.

Caractacus began, ‘Noble People of the Feather’ he hooted, ‘Assembled dignitaries, Princes, Princesses, Princelings, Beaks, Talons, chicklings, one and all, hearken to the words of my beak!’

He coughed again, his spectacles slipped down his beak, he coughed  once more, drew a deep breath that swelled up his small brown chest, and continued,  

‘A people without a King or a Queen are like a swallow that has lost his way and knows not whither to fly in Winter.’ he declared.

‘Too long have we been without a leader to govern and sustain us with his or her wisdom, kindness and sound judgement.’

‘I, Caractacus Plumefeather, invoke my right as High Beak and First Minister to proclaim that the time-honoured ritual of the Apogee of the Vaults is at hand!’

‘I call upon all of the Feathered People, each alike and unlike, and of his or her kind, to send forth all ye who would aspire to the Orb and Sceptre of the Skies!’

‘The rules are perfectly clear’ he cried, ‘whichsoever of ye flies the highest, verily unto the very Vault of the Skies, shall be crowned the King or the Queen, and all shall lower the beak in homage!’

‘Come forth all ye the brave, noble and just!’ he hooted.

A deeper silence now fell over the Dell and the feathered kin looked at each other, looked away quickly again, and shuffled their clawed feet uneasily.

Not a single Beak or Princeling moved.

Before too long however a stiff, blustery breeze began to blow, ruffling leaf, feather and green grass alike. Strong, steady wingbeats could be heard, growing ever closer.

Suddenly, a mighty Eagle descended swiftly on the Parliament Dell. He alighted with a great show of grace and power directly before Caractacus the High Beak.

‘I come to challenge as is my right.’ declared the Eagle proudly, nay haughtily, holding his huge, sharp beak high in the air as he shuffled back and forth on his talons rather like a turkey. He flapped his wings three times, and then settled his beautiful feathers and kept as still and proud as a mighty old oak tree on a crisp, clear, still Spring morning in April.

‘Ah!’ said Caractacus a little quietly, ‘Welcome and well met Aquilus Ironbeak my old friend. I did wonder whither ye might be on this most momentous of days. I trust your goodly wife and the eaglets are well?’

‘Quite well.’ replied Aquilus shortly, then looked at his powerful right talons, lifting them in the air, and then the left, really for rather longer than was strictly necessary. He settled again with his beak aloft, silent and proud.

‘Who else aspires to challenge?’ called Caractacus, once more looking out over the assembled People.

A perfect silence broke out in the glade.

A minute passed.

And then another. 

But just as the traditionally allowable third minute was nearly up, swift and frenetic wingbeats were heard. A bustling tiny blur of yellow, green, white and red flew swiftly from the branch of an old alder tree and alighted beside the Eagle and the Little Owl.

‘I doth aspire!’ cried Firecrest, for indeed it was he, in his high-pitched, swift and chattery voice.

Well, you should have seen the consternation and hullabaloo amongst the People of the Feathered Wing! Some squawked, some hooted and everyone shook their feathers excitedly. Tiny brown Mrs. Wren even laid an even tinier brown, speckled egg, but I’m afraid to say many of the People simply laughed, although mostly in surprise rather than in any real contempt.

The Firecrest was well known to be a very feisty little fellow and, with his wife, had raised his clutches as good and well as any bird could ever hope to do.

Caractacus crossed his luminous, yellow round eyes, picked up his spectacles, which had fallen to the ground, took a breath, stopped, and began again,

‘Well met Regulus Ignicapillus Spidersbane!’ he cried, for that indeed was the Firecrests rather astonishing name!

‘The allotted time is over,’ he said firmly. A hush once more settled over the green and leafy Dell.

‘I will settle this matter once for all.’ declared Aquilus the Eagle and began huffing and puffing and working his mighty wings until the all of the Parliament Dell around the High Beak was aflutter with leaves, dead grass and gossamer spiders webs.

‘Aquilus first came forth and thus may make the first sally at the Skies, Regulus.’ said Caractacus, turning to the Firecrest.

But Regulus was nowhere to be seen.

Caractacus scratched his head with his right wing, gave a little hoot and wondered. He was an old owl and had seen many things and worked hard for his People all his life. Such are the beginnings of wisdom, and he pondered, even as the Eagle gave a mighty cry echoing all around the Dell, and then leapt seven feet into the air with a single beat of his enormous wings.

One slow, hard beat followed another as the Eagle shouldered his way through the moist, thick and cool morning air. His pace began to quicken as he swiftly left the Parliament Dell and the craning necks of the People of the Feather far below.

A fierce song sang in his breast as he climbed and climbed and climbed once more, until the air became thin and cold, and a gelid sheen began to form on the primary feathers of his wingtips.

Upwards and upwards he now soared with slow, steady beats until his breath began to falter and the curve of the Earth could be seen on the horizon.

At last even Aquilus could go no farther and he turned and began to circle down, down, down towards the dell once more, breathing heavily. He was rather dizzy and spots appeared before his keen, yellow eyes.

But what was this?!

Just as the mighty Eagle began to turn for the Dell, a blurry and tiny fury of colour was seen, and a flapping, so fierce and quick that no ear could ever have followed it, thrummed in the thin cold air.

Regulus, the Firecrest, burst forth from beneath the Eagle’s fanned tail and shot, like a tiny red and gold meteor, a full foot further into the thin, cold air before plummeting like a stone towards the Dell and the assembled People of the Feather once more.

Well, if you thought that there had been consternation amongst the People of the Feather beforehand, then you should have seen the Parliament Dell now!

Many a bird simply stood stock-still looking at the skies with a gaping beak, but the flapping, pecking and hooting, crying and screeching of the rest made a great noise such as had never been heard before, and never would be again!

Aquilus crashed back down into the dry, crispy oak leaves that littered the floor of the forest, and the blurry hum of tiny beating wings was heard as Regulus broke the plummet of his fall to land neatly before the astonished throng. 

A perfect silence reigned golden over the Dell.

Not even the wind dared to breathe.

‘Most unprecedented, most irregular!’ cried Caractacus suddenly and fell frowningly silent for a full minute as the people waited in complete silence. What had just happened they wondered!

At last Caractacus turned to the People of the Feather and declared,

‘The Ancient Law has been fulfilled!’

He paused for what seemed like an eternity and then cried,

‘The Firecrest, Prince Regulus Ingicapillus Spidersbane, has gained the Apogee and flew farthest up on high! I do now declare that he is King by Right of Trial and all shall bend the beak!’

And Caractacus did so.

And one by one, all the birds of the forest did the same, until only Aquilus the Eagle, still much winded from his flight, was the only bird left standing upright.

After some moments, Aquilus bowed his noble crown, sighed, and sank slowly and wearily to one knee, beak lowered, and a great cry and cheer burst forth in the Ancient Forest.

And that, dear hearts, is how the Firecrest outwitted the mighty Eagle and was crowned the rightful King of the Birds.

His first statute was a simple one. Aquilus Ironbeak was created High Talon of the Winged Army in perpetuum, that is, for the whole of his life.

Aquilus snorted somewhat at this proclamation, but ruffled his feathers proudly and raised his beak high once again.

For you see, the Firecrest really was a very wise and clever bird, and he governed his People very well, indeed until the very end of his days.

Firecrest - a poem

Fierce prince amongst the woodland alder boughs,

Winged fury how thy hovering endows

Thee with the keenest skill to pluck the fly

From out the web; The spider's clustered eyes

Are burning with reflections of it ire,

Reflections of thy burning crest of fire.

Prince of the birds thy intellect outflew

Most mighty eagle, all hold it is true.

Ye hid beneath the proudful eagle's tail,

There scheming that the rightful king be hailed.

For he who flew the furthest up on high

Would claim the orb and sceptre of the skies.

And when thy adversary stalled and tired

Ye leapt from out his tail and thus aspired

To gain the apogee and give the cry.

'I Firecrest now am king amongst the wise.'

A Poem - Lion (2018)

As bold as the godly,
The Proverb sayeth,
Noble, royal
And strong.
Unparalleled
In stateliness,
The Revelator's
Song.

Sung out
The stony centuries,
The Root of David
Roars,
The Beast hath
Struck
Upon the heel;
The Beast can strike
No more.

Conquering Lion
Of the Tribe of Judah,
Open the
Seventh Seal.
To the Lion that is
The Lamb that was slaughtered,
All of Heaven
Kneels.

A Poem - Peregrine (ii) (2018)

Rare, cooling air caresses me,
I soar on
Subtle currents,
The Vault of Heaven in flux.

Alone I soar, wings, tail, splayed,
Delicate instinct
Holds me on the axes,
Wild winds and I are one.

My yellow-rimmed eyes slowly

Quarter,
Searching
The flock below,
Deigning to encompass
In my keen sight

The straggler,
The weakling,
The fool.

I will cull you from your kind;
It is a kindness when weighed
In the balance
Set upon the great Axis of Life.

The hot yellow sunlight beats directly,
Linear,
The light and I are one.
I am the striking beam that
Obscures the swift demise.

A sudden ecstasy!

I stoop!

And pierce the sky like an arrow
Loosed
From out the golden sun.

A Poem - the Blackbird and the Peregrine (2018)

I dreamed a blackbird's
Song one day,
Close by a birch she
Trilled

Sweet melodies
Then there was thou
And time was stunned 
And stilled.

Ye did not sing
But I well knew
The song
Heard in my heart,

Derived from out
The tenderness;
Thy beauty
Did impart.

No tick of clock,
No bustling flock,
And all but
Sweet desire,

To know
Just how
A kiss betwixt 
Would set the world afire.

And Oh! First kiss!
Sweet Lord! What's this?
The clarion trumpets
Rang

And fires burned fierce,
Two hearts were pierced;
The cherubim
They sang.

The Blackbird
And the Peregrine
Gave cry
With voices gay

And sang in
Perfect harmony,
For Love was born
That day.

A Poem - Always Give All the Heart For Love - this is alI I can remember so far.

DRAFT

Always give all the heart for love;
Pass over trouble; Love is.
Be fanned in your thoughts
By the wings of a dove,
Pass over trouble; God is.

A ring of clarion trumpets sound
When angels find that love has found
Our love has finally come around,
We dance upon most holy ground.

A Poem - Close Nestled in the Night (2004)

I have returned from sudden slumber's realm,
And deep into that land sojournèd I.

The draught of sleep it calls me, 'Cometh back!'
To wander 'neath the piercèd Firmament
Of the darkling sky.

Yet shouldst thou purpose to communion share,
From yonder balmy islands hedonist,
Put thee aside all anxious thought of care,

For rather of thee than slumber
Wouldst my brow receive
The blessing of
A tender
Kiss.

And how define that quality
All innocent yet graced
By reflected understanding
From within a simpler place?
Beyond the genesis of thought,
Before the birth of light
There was thou and I and love
Close-nestled in the night.

And how define that quality
That bypasses all mind,
That thou and I and love were once
Conceived by Heaven kind?

For the simple grace of seeing thee
Called remembrance to my heart,
That thou and I and love once more
Might be again one part.

And the wonder of that quality
Is its essence is so pure
That mind and body catch their breath,
Mute spirit is quite sure.

For wordless spirit knows it's own
From 'fore the birth of light;
For there was thou and I and love
Close nestled in the night.

A Poem - By Madness Rent (2004)

If life were set in simpler times,
Some mythic memory,
Fostered by the fondest dreams
My heart designed for thee,

Then days would come
When that which was
The air that let me breathe,
The balm that cooled my fevered brow
And calmed a mind that seethed,

Would flow into my breast again
And soothe my tender heart,
Then those that were by madness rent
Would not so cruelly part.

For what I dreamed
Was meant to be,
A simple, blessèd purity.

A Poem - Breakfast (2004)

Once upon a springtime morn,
My body sank into a yawn,
And what preoccupied me most
Was yearning for my tea and toast.

A Poem - He Wishes in Vain (2004)

How I wish I could behold
Just once before I go,
Your face soft set in sympathy
Forgiveness for my woe.

I wish I could excise that past,
A mind beyond control;
In vain are such desirings,
Fruitless yearnings of the soul.

A Poem - Hidden Bruises (2003)

A broken dream and one that's tarnished,
Gave release to birth of new
Dreams that slumbered never easy,
Dreams I dreamt I'd share with you.
Time has passed and passed so surely,
Yet, at times, my times are raw.
Surprised I am that sorely, sorely,
Hidden bruises wound me more.

A Poem - Happy I Rested (2007)

Happy I rested
As in my mind's flight,
I raised up my glass to thy
Dark eyed delight.
At the end of my workday
Thy countenance drew,
My dreams of sweet rest
And sweet longings for you.

A Poem - Firecrest (2017)

Fierce prince amongst the woodland alder boughs,

Winged fury how thy hovering endows

Thee with the keenest skill to pluck the fly

From out the web; The spider's clustered eyes

Are burning with reflections of it ire,

Reflections of thy burning crest of fire.

Prince of the birds thy intellect outflew

Most mighty eagle, all hold it is true.

Ye hid beneath the proudful eagle's tail,

There scheming that the rightful king be hailed.

For he who flew the furthest up on high

Would claim the orb and sceptre of the skies.

And when thy adversary stalled and tired

Ye leapt from out his tail and thus aspired

To gain the apogee and give the cry.

'I firecrest now am king amongst the wise.'

A Poem - Camden Lock (2008)

The gift you gave me
Was love.

The gift you gave me
Was a recollection of happy times
We shared.

The gift you gave me
Was hope.

The gift you gave me
Was release from nagging torment.

The gift you gave me
Was a breathing space.

The gift you gave me
Was...

A mojito.

Your consideration,
Your care,
Your concerned, caring, pained eyes,
Your tending touch,
Your laughter,

The wonder of you!

Love, love, love!

Looking over the sun-drenched sea of stalls,
Rapt in your oasis,
Wrapped in your bower of hope,
At liberty, the chains of sadness loosed,
By your gifts,
By your sunshine,
Tears welled in my eyes for the joy of you.

How I loved that mojito,
How tears well for you.

Can you not remember
That our love was truth?



(c) Tales of Seamus 2005

A Poem - A Memory (2005)

Every crystal of magic
In the snowflake soft silence of effulgence,
Centered in your love-brimmed eyes.

Our first Noel
With wondrous promise,
Trod soft on warm white blankets
Under starry skies.


But the promise faded:
Magic was denied.



(c) Tales of Seamus 2005

A Poem - Peregrine (i) (2009)

Hoar-gouts of frost-sharp crystal screams
Buffet the crossed wings of the face-barred falcon,
Closed tight over his crown,
Tight against the cruel wind,

The keening world.

Eyes that have seen too far, too fierce, too keen,
Beheld white fire masquerading as inviolate truth Complete,
Feeding from its own flame,

Reflection

Burned, burned, burned,
Are hooded and blind.

No prophecies are scried, no magic glanced;
They are not filled with the white sharp edge of the sun's light
That comes searing in and binds the lidless eye
And coils the fire-mind.
 
The falcon's head lifts, its eyes craving roseate dawn,
Not the black-iced pain of night.
A scream is cast into the maelstrom and torn away
Like a tongue that cannot talk of truce.

Would that a fleet curved wing
And the pained yearning of a fierce heart
Would soon carry a pilgrim, steeped
In the sadness and the madness,
Back to the great Axis of Life.


 (c) Tales of Seamus 2011

A Poem - Lament for Lost Love (2005)

Oh what dread torment is this?
Riven from her that used to kiss
Away my troubles and my fears;
Her warm lips once soothed away my tears.


If I'd been given any choice,
She never would have heard my voice
Unfeeling, cruel and far away
From where my own true sentiments lay.


And I have spoken to her since,
And it seems she will convince
Herself it's better we did part;
She told me that I broke her heart.


With calmer mind but crippled soul
I'm at the diametric pole
And though many months have passed
My heart is broken too at last.


Now sleep is stolen, all is ashes,
There is no solace in the world.
My angel-light in fearful darkness
Tortured as my mind unfurled.


She strove so hard and gave so much,
But so much is all that one can bear,
Her heart and soul were wounded, bleeding.
But mania hid away my share.


I must have seemed so cruelly heartless,
Not gentle, tender, loving, kind.
My soul that loved her deeply,

Locked deep in my wounded mind.


Ah darling, darling! please forgive me!
You were the one that took my heart
And gave it all your shining beauty
And drove away the binding dark.


You gave me that most precious gift,
That I wondered so to feel,
By every facet of your beauty
My wounded troubled heart was healed.


So precious are you to me darling
For every soothing of my heart,
That I should hurt and lose you is
The deepest cut and cruellest dart.


(c) Tales of Seamus 2004 - 2012

A Poem - Sip (2006)

I see you sitting back,
That far and yet focused look in your eyes,
The smoke of a contemplative cigarette,
Floating gentle,
As the gentle sips I take of each one of your 

Sighs.

I see you sitting back,
Desire rushes in,
With its continual butterfly-winged surprise.
I see the sweetest dizzying,
Headiest wine of desire
Born in the narrowing reflection of your eyes.


(c) Tales of Seamus 2001 - 2012

A Poem - All Things Fade Yet Never Wholly Do Depart (2006)

All things fade
In the seasons of the heart.

Love springs verdant, born of joy
And twines us as one part.

But all things fade
And Springtime does depart;
Brave summer's sun shines down
On the summer of brave hearts.

And love's sweet petals bloom
Yet in the end they pall,
For the wind blows keen from 

Clouded skies,
The rain begins to fall.

Yet all things fade,
Mere rain is chilled to sleet;
The heart's heart knows too well the cold,
The seasons are complete.

For love's tumultuous chords rang forth,
Yet in the end all fell,
Our heart beats sound no more as one
Yet ever beat, 'farewell'.

Yes all things fade
Yet never wholly do depart,
For always faint strains of our love
Sound in the quiet heart.

When the heart's heart finding stillness
Finds the inner voices clear,
Hearts sing the songs of happiness,
Hearts sing the songs of tears.


(c) Tales of Seamus 2004 - 2012