Seven Years

I can’t hear you while you’re speaking.
Your voice
your delicate sound
why is it silent when you answer me?
I hear it in the midst of night,
that delicate whimper;
that striving prayer.
Your truths and lies do not belong to you.
Who is it that owns your dreams?
Your eyes won’t betray your trust,
although I hoped they would.
I could never find you there.
Do you remember your voice?
Not the chatty laughs that haunt your mouth,
it must be so convenient to have a mirrored heart.
What is it that dwells behind a mirror after all?
A backward world or just a solid wooden frame?


Tidal Dreams

As you can see, I’m well and truly back on the poetry train. I thought I’d take some time to post some of my older work amongst the newer stuff. This is a favorite of mine. I wrote it back when I was 19 (wow time really does fly). It is very raw, riddled with switching tenses, repeated terms and questionable grammar. However I vividly remember the emotion it was written with.  Right, enough reminiscing, here is ‘Tidal Dreams’.

Tidal Dreams

What men are you?
You who think you can slay a god?
You ride across his watery kingdom like a turtle stuck upon its back.
While deep within the heart of the ocean, the peaceful king awaits your ‘suprise’.

Can’t you hear the song of your master?
He who sings out to you gives you one final chance to turn back.
What kind of men would you be then?
Do your women crave the return of heroes?

Which one of you heard the song upon the moonlight?
You could hear your fate.
What made you keep it to yourself?
Don’t despair young hero, the moon only talks in dreams.

Across the horizon he comes to greet you.
The great fountain shows that you are nearly at the doors of destiny.
Your eyes blaze with emotions that the sea herself cannot rival.
Silence takes hold of the elemental ambassadors.

Your ears feel like unwelcome strangers;
Only a soft wind shows pity towards them.
Are you still heroes?
Are you still warriors of the sea?

At last movement swells around you.
Again your heart races as your shaking hands hold your rusting hope of victory.
Into the water your leader’s cutting authority goes.
Its target met, it’s purpose fulfilled, its master proud.

“This is it men” a voice dances around a darkened sky.
“Show this devil who is really king of the sea”.
As the voice turns in to thunder
it is illustrated by spiteful flashes in the once peaceful sky.

Was it these words that made the emperor angry?
Or was he ready for these ‘gentlemen of the sea’
Long before their vessel first cut his glassy universe?
Only his dark eyes would ever know.

As the storm rages so does a mighty tail.
The heroes want to stand firm.
Are they afraid to save themselves?
Is failure more frightening than death?

As the fury of the ocean changes his course,
The word finally comes from a raw throat “Untie the ropes”.
The men scramble in frozen panic to reach the solid ropes
Their only hope is the blunt knives strapped to their impossible belts.

The screaming boat begins to mourn the once quiet waters
While the men hold on to each other’s hopes.
One final victorious flip of his tail,
and the giant welcomes the intruders into his icy kingdom.

A new dawn wakes upon the waiting shore.
Where had its men gone?
No cries of happy return,
Instead the beach is littered with tangled wood and broken dreams.

George and Dave

Hello fellow humans of Earth. It’s been a while since I was here. My humble apologies for that! It’s been a busy old year of new jobs and adventures! I have today managed to pause for a while and throw some words into black and white. I was in a happy place and remembering childhood simplicity and dreams of far off lands. The result of this was the following poem George and Dave; a whimsical  poem of two voices. I will let you work out whose voice is who. I guess it is a poem written for kids, but will hopefully resonate to the child within us all.


In the morning can we go
unto the woods of green?
We’ll hunt and slay a dragon
the biggest ever seen!

We’ll track him with our cunning
and eyes as sharp as steel.
Deep in to his cave we’ll go
until his breath we feel.

Our mighty swords drawn in hand,
and shields clasped to our side.
We’ll slay that wicked scaly brute,
and win our Mother’s pride.

His razor teeth we’ll take back home
to earn a bag of gold.
Of proof they’ll need that we did
as our story told.

Say you’ll come in to the woods
and fight that dragon green!
We’ll be the bravest hunters
the world has ever seen.

Yes I’ll come in to the woods
but not to hurt or slay.
Dragons are not viscous beasts,
in fact they love to play!

I’d never pull his teeth out
for that would be a sin.
Gold coins could never rival
a dragon’s friendly grin.

His breath isn’t for fighting,
do not make that mistake.
He uses it for cooking
his pastries, bread and cake.

In the morning let us go
in to the woods of green!
We’ll go befriend a dragon
The biggest ever seen.


Scratching the Surface

This is a honeycomb world. It hides a hollow heart. The truth of nature, wrote the philosopher Democritus, lies in deep mines and caves. The stability of what is seen and felt beneath our feet is an illusion, for this life is not as it seems. Below the surface, there are cracks and fissures and pockets of stale, trapped air; stalagmites and helactites and unmapped dark rivers that flow ever downward. It is a place of caverns and stone waterfalls, a labyrinth of crystal tumours and frozen columns where history becomes future, then becomes now. For in total blackness, time has no meaning. [John Connolly, The Killing Kind, 2001]


The past it seems, is destined to bury itself in one way or another (sometimes with a little help). Archaeologists often make reference to our ‘buried history’. They are of course generally speaking of the treasures that sleep beneath our feet, covered by years of soil, sand or water. The hidden past may also dwell in the depths of a dusty book, the words of a song or nursery rhyme and of course within the murky recesses of our minds. But what happens when the past raises it head? Can it then change perception of the present or indeed carve a new path for the future?

Hidden within this weeks headlines and stories was a humble report on an archaeological discovery in Israel. The discovery is one that seems to confirm some historian’s belief that the ‘God’ of the bible wasn’t always worshiped as a single deity. Discovered in the soil of Tel Motza,  were remains of a temple containing carved female images inscribed with prayers to a ‘Divine Couple’. The carvings have been dated to a time just before the  Hebrew bible was written. It has been suggested that before the region became monotheistic the people of the area worshiped many gods.

“Interestingly, there are vastly more female figurines and representations found on shrines than there are male ones. The evidence points to the worship of at least two deities.” -archaeology writer Julia Fridman, Haaretz

“increasing evidence of Israelites worshipping several gods – including one who may have been seen as Yahweh’s wife” – Professor Francesca Stavrakopoulou of the University of Exeter .

So what does this mean for the future?

Well, many cultures have always worshiped the divine as both male and female, this we know. But what about the religions (Judaism, Islam and Christianity) that have sprouted from the early texts of the Hebrew bible ? Whole systems of belief are set around the early constructs of the bible, could their followers ever accept that the Yahweh was one of many? Could there ever be room for a female deity amongst the candles on a church alter? In Neo Pagan religions and some that sprout from the Hindu faith, often see their many gods and goddesses as facets on the face of the divine diamond; all showing a different aspect of a supreme being. I wonder if this philosophy could ever be adapted to the worlds largest religions. Could it be a brick in the bridge of equality that is ever changing the face of the Christian church?

One doesn’t have to be of a spiritual disposition to realise that this may well have the potential to change not only religions, but  the cultures they often inhabit.

On the other hand of course, the world may turn their hand to reshuffling the find to the bottom of the deck. The story itself was a tiny grain on the vast beach of rolling news and media. Perhaps the carvings will remain hidden, this time in the bottom drawer of a museum archive.  Could one small discovery really hold the power to change centuries of belief? And on that note, does it have the right to? Philosophies that span decades all grow from a seed thought, but do they all belong to the original thinker?

Time will undoubtedly tell.

To begin with…

Welcome to ‘meanwhile in space’,  a shifting view of  life on this little blue planet and beyond.

There is one thing in life that has always fascinated me. the fact that as we go about our day-to-day lives, following our normal (or abnormal) routines, there are an infinite number of other occurrences happening simultaneously. For example, as I sit here typing this first blog, NASA’s Voyager I spacecraft has just reached interstellar space 12 billion miles away from our sun. Meanwhile back on earth, a family sits down to eat their evening meal with a group of homeless mothers and children that they have opened their house to. These are just a couple of remarkable stories I’ve come across of late that have really made me sit up and think.

With pressures of work, social life and mundane household chores, we can easily forget there is a whole universe out there. Different lives, different view points, different worlds all waiting to be discovered. Life on planet Earth is far from boring, although it is sometimes easy to forget where we left the excitement.

Join me as I ponder, wander, wonder, and spill words out on this page. Feel free to drop in to say hello!