black and white photography

All That Is Left

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apple blossom, poetry

All That Is Left
I used to meditate in the stillness;
Now, all that’s left is Stillness.

I used to love to work and play;
Now, all that’s left is Love.

I used to dream of many, many things;
Now, all that’s left are Dreams.

I used to live as if death was tomorrow;
Now, all that’s left is Death.

© David R. Durham, 2016, All Rights Reserved.

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Enchanted Forest

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enchanted forest

Enchanted Forest

I danced through the forest at fall of night,
By guardian mountains and faithful streams,
To where an old lady sat, in ramshackle cabin porch,
Her hands are deeply grained with living cares,
Her face is old, her eyes are wise,
She smiled, we sat, she read my heart,
She looked about us, and waived her arm,
This is Mother Earth, she whispered in my mind,
And all the trees began to shimmer in energetic haze,
Wreathed forms melted away, pure being revealed.

© David R. Durham, All Rights Reserved.

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They Lived and Loved

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poetry

They Lived and Loved

They lived and loved,
Their childhood friends and summer days,
While all about them daisies sang a sweet serenade,
Their dream is life, their living a dream.

They lived and loved,
Their feet falling, fumbling, caressing rugged Earth,
Sinewed muscles, developing their strength, skill and speed,
Celebrating winning joy, pained in careless fall.

They lived and loved,
New words and meaning, new sounds and dance,
Absorbed keenly into flesh and bone and blood,
Growing doubt free in the endless rise of man.

They lived and loved,
Their union sanctified anew, in time-worn tribal traditions,
Walking into their future together, weaving new familiar stories,
Joyous love giving painful birth to new generation.

They lived and loved,
Feeling the full numbing force of daily chore,
Raising, loving intimately, chattering, laughing and cursing,
Yet terrified, in ultimately not knowing their own creation.

They lived and loved,
All the while, silent stars swarmed overhead,
Inviting passionate mystery, blesséd ancient tales,
God’s grace, breaking gently on shore-less human psyche.

© David R. Durham, All Rights Reserved.

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Sea Anchor

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poetry

Sea Anchor
Sea anchor, hold us safe in passing,
Stormy seas. Protect us from raging,
Tidal torrents, bone breaking waves.

Sea anchor, saviour of souls, bless our,
Fragile bodies, racked with fearful,
Doubts. Clothed in restless desires.

Sea anchor, protect us from gnawing,
Obsessions, tapestries of daily,
Duties, eating our aliveness.

Sea anchor, release us now from your,
Deathly grip of our history’s past,
Gnarled, bitter, toxic memory.

© David R. Durham, All Rights Reserved.

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Ancestral Voices

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poetry, spirit

Ancestral Voices
This living tradition,
Contains no mystery,
No secrets, nothing hidden,
All is as it is.

As we dance in morning mist,
Songs of our ancestors weave,
Our sacred unfolding path,
Breath of life, living gods.

For our poor limited minds,
Dreams challenge and remind us,
To tread with care,
To live with respect.

Our poor, poor minds,
Lost in a sorcerer’s spell,
Desire, desire, desire,
A mantra of death and slavery.

Sing, sing your way back home,
Chant your ancestral songs,
Leave the spell of this labyrinth,
All is sacred, your path,
Tribal life, all life.

Remember, remember, wake up!

© David R. Durham, All Rights Reserved.

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There Is A Story

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poetry
 
There is a Story
There is a story,
A story of our life-time lived.

There is a story,
A story of our family’s struggles.

There is a story,
A story of our rich tribal roots.

There is a story,
A story of our ancestors’ rights of passage.

There is a story,
That pre-dates our time on planet Earth.

There is a story,
Which comes even from before time and space appeared.

There is a story,
When we were young and powerful beings, creators of worlds.

There is a story,
Before we invented in innocence, these games of life and death.

This is your story.

© David R. Durham, All Rights Reserved.

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The Merging

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poems

The Merging
The key slips into lock and turn,
Gate latch, twisted, smooth, rusted edge,
Walk out, join life’s sultry urban churn.

New soft shoes shuffle on pedals,
Drive out, join life’s urban jobbers,
The key slips into lock and turn.

Run, catch the seven thirty train,
Drift into mesmerising thoughts,
Walk out, join life’s sultry urban churn.

Bill boards flirt and play, stealing mind,
Promising escapes, trusted,
The key slips into lock and turn.

Will beggars stop asking you why,
Why you don’t give to them anymore,
Walk out, join life’s sultry urban churn.

Heads turn briefly to watch siren,
Sail colourfully by, merging,
The key slips into lock and turn,
Walk out, join life’s sultry urban churn.

© David R. Durham, All Rights Reserved.

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