photography

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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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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Lay Down

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poet

Lay Down
Lay down; lay down my sleepy head,
As I lay down in this rag-tag field of reclusive dreams,
How long?
How long before this day is just a distant playful memory?

Lay down; lay down my grateful true and tested love,
As I unfold in this endless rolling breath of vibrant life,
How many?
How many lifetimes before Earth is just a ripple under shimmering stars?

© David R. Durham, All Rights Reserved.

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Down By The River

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devon_river

Down By The River
Down by the river an old man sang,
His voice so full of life, one with tide.
He whistled ancient tunes, calling
His soul back home, borne on wind and stars.

Down by the river, old women sang,
Their voices full of family love.
They hummed ancient lullabies, soft
And gentle, guiding their children home.

© David R. Durham, All Rights Reserved.

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