Ode of the Dawn Walker

Ode of the Dawn Walker

As golden flood pours in
Sleepy night gives way to mists of morn
In vale below the cock doth crow
And hound speaks forth
The darkness sundered and torn.

The tweet of birds stirring in heather
The prominences of walker fresh & cold
Caressed by sun born anew, like gentle glowing feather.
Still the frosted path leads ahead
A serpent slithering amongst the mountain folds.

Reflections deep and vivid speak
Eye to the soul of mountain borne
Up ridge, through col to lonesome peak
View and atmosphere a magic spawn
This traveller shall return, for another dawn.

The way ahead lies twisted and frozen.
The way ahead lies twisted and frozen.
  • Aperture: ƒ/6.3
  • Credit: AnnMarie Jones
  • Camera: COOLPIX B700
  • Caption: Morning path to Llyn Arenig Fawr
  • Focal length: 5.4mm
  • ISO: 100
  • Keywords: Landscape, Mountain, Seasons, Winter, scenic
  • Shutter speed: 1/1600s
  • Title: Walking into the Sunrise

(inspired by a lovely walk, whose route I’ll post next week)

The Antidote

The other day I took the above photo of river, warm autumn woodland colours and stone cottage. Tamsin & I were discussing how the peaceful natural perspective gained from living in such a spot might help as an antidote to solve many of the human world’s problems. And so I was inspired to write this poem …

The Antidote

So, you were told there’d be pearls at the gates;
And ye believed in streets paved with gold.
All welcome, there’s no knowledge of hate;
Every body free, from hunger & cold.

Politicians & preachers, all principled & pious.
They’ll steer & they’ll serve;
No crooked corruption is ever observed.
All equal in eyes, without bias.

Your role, your requirement, your task?
Produce & consume, but questions don’t ask!
Your life has a value, in monetary terms.
Your tax & your servitude, this all reaffirms.

Look in the mirror, apparition pre- snooze
A tool of the ruling, perhaps just a fool.
A hollowness fulfilled with spending & booze.
A packhorse of lust, a jewel of a mule.

You vote for a party, to vain change make.
Each manifesto, of choices all fallow.
To ourselves responsibility to take.
Live lives neither fake nor shallow.

An antidote is needed;
No shopping bag therapy, no sexual heresy,
No gold card orgasm, to placate the bleeded.
Just a simple place by tree or sea.

A place in nature to sleep, not weep.
A place with hearth warm, away from storm.
A place to eat, not some backstreet.
A place from long lost tome;
To call, a home.

Peace, peace to you all.

Autumn warmth & colours, swaying trees & babbling river – feel alive, live nature.

Below is a video of the poem recited …
(Think I need a better mic setup – to avoid echo and the goblin who occasionally joins in lol)