River

                                       River


                     
                    The river moves
                     
                      Within me -

                              Through the arteries, 

                               In the rhythm

                     Of my breathing-

                    Sometimes singing

                    In the sunlight 

                   Or falling deep

                   Into dark caverns -



                  The hidden energy

                  That maintains

                   All livingness

                  In its beneficence -

                  Moving on and on

                  A concerto grosso -

                 Towards the ocean

                 Of its endlessness -

                   

                                   

                                          
                     

Secret place

               There is a field,

               Secluded by trees and bracken

               Upon a high hillside,

               High above the rooftops of a cottage 

               And singing stream -

               Memories of my grandparent's house,

               Encircled and protected 

               By the sand quarry wall 

               High upon the hilltop -

               Looking out towards the mythic

                Mountains to the west -


               Ancient tales-shadows and whispers 

               In the forgotten chronicles of time.


               A place of jousting knights

               And heraldic deeds -

               A scabbard in stone, waiting -

               Faery folk dancing in the dark

               Diamond sparkled night,


              Or the rendezvous of flower

              Laureled lovers- 

              Last lair of dragons -

              Final fight of some rebel band.



              Ancient tales- shadows and whispers,

              In the forgotten chronicles of time.



             The hill is steep and forbidding 

             I will not climb there -

             Maybe enclosed and hidden there,

             Lies the verdant pageant

            Of my lost youth  - 



                ,    

Secret place

There is a green field Secluded by trees and bracken Upon a steep hillside High above a steep hillside, Above the rooftop of a cottage And singing stream -

Beermat speculations and philosophy and food for thought For Rob L.

Two mono prints entitied -ancient manuscripts .

Ancient texts - 3 mono prints

Beermat poem -upon seeing an old friend ( second version )