Low creeps the snake

On the back of a log

Moss grows soft green

On the side of a rock.

Sweet flows a stream

By some whispering reeds

Clouds dripping cream

Where a broken heart bleeds.

Eyes cold as glass

In the head of a snake

Watching you pass

From the edge of a lake.

Fangs curved as moons

Crescent and new

Skin cold and smooth

Of beautiful hue.

Master of mystery

Sensuous and old

Lord in pre-history

Stories half-told.

Powerful movement

Gentle and wise

Killer and Life-giver

Under the skies.

Copyright Alan Cole 2015

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Praise Thou With Music

Praise the High King

In his towers of stone

Praise thou the Queen

On her rich velvet throne.

Their land is as happy

As any on Earth

A home for old oak trees

Of great, mighty girth.

Each one is a doorway

Well-known to the wise

To Kingdoms within

Lit by bright, sunny skies.

An eagle approaches

With red sun-lit wings

A great ring of gold

Is the gift which he brings.

A sign that the Sun

Shines forever undimmed

The oak stands wide open

With green woody limbs.

The door is a cave

Which opens within

Though black is the entrance

The Sun shines therein.

While out in the greenwood

Sweet fallow deer roam,

A Roebuck leaps over

A log, overgrown.

And into a bush

He quickly descends

The greenwood is home

To robin and wren.

So praise thou with music

The King and the Queen

For they are of Faerie

Bedecked all in green.

Copyright Alan Cole 2015

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The Star Stone

A Moon-ball thrown in a purple pool

Serene bright face, gloomlessly unrobing beauty,

Brings forth a panoply of starlight friends

To gain her fancie’s free range eggs,

Erupting, silently singing birds.

Celestial orchestrated strings, plucked nightly aright

By long slender white ringed fingers

Of Angelic choirs poised in flight

Vibrating countless numbers of colour waves

In Universal harmony with spiritual hosts

Unrolling carpets of love-light

Across her sky palace floor.

Egg stone star closet opens inwardly

Onto a night-of-distant-worlds flight,

Soars through emptiness, emptying pockets

Of cavernous galaxies laid bare

Across frozen wastes of oasis studded sunsets

Reaching ever onward across vast starry plains

In hope of finding long lost treasures

Of ages agone, long back in Time

To when it all began to echo and re-echo

Down corridors of Mind-Soul.

Cellular blocks of building materials

Of organic stuff growing forth seeds, plants,

Fungus spores, rooted vegetable tableaus,

Tablets of ancient Cain and Abel murders

Pinned down butterflies

Forced to forego their orchid woods

To forever try to return, against the tide

Of no return,

Led on by militant army ants

Cascading down Ivory white tusks of wild boar

Rooted and rooting in the primal ooze

Bringing new worlds up to greet the Sun,

In glorious tragedies, I lie on pink petals,

Playing idly with my toys,

Selfishly seeking pleasure amongst the ruins

Of fallen worlds.

Copyright Alan Cole 2015

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Come My Darling

Come, come, my pretty lover

Come soon, whenever you please,

Bring your lovely kisses too,

We’ll lay among the trees.

I’ll kiss you and caress you

From your neck, down to your knees,

I’ll softly press my skin on yours,

I’ll touch you

And I’ll come as well

As you may well believe.

No do not linger longer

For winter draweth nigh

The nights shall be much colder then,

Death sings a lullaby.

So hold me close

Open wide your heart,

Warm penetrates the Sun,

And though, old age

Creeps up too soon

Still I am far from done.

I feel the inner garden bloom

Your heart beats like a drum,

Love vanishes away too soon,

So come, my darling, come.

Copyright Alan Cole 2015

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Land Ahoy!

Climbing aboard on wooden planks

Behind me, my homeland fades and sinks

I stare back from her oaken stern

Whereon I cut a hopeful rune.

Above me billows her open sail

Filled with a strong North-Easterly gale

Then all at once my homeland is gone

The place where I grew, to be a man.

Striding along the swaying ship

The taste of salt upon my lips

My crew-mates plying hard with oars

Dipping, and pushing the white-foamed waves.

I stand at the helm, looking out across

The fine carven prow as our ship is tossed

For I know the tide shall bear us quick

To a new dwelling place that is fertile and rich.

A land of forests, meadows and rivers, sweet

May the good gods help us and our fleet

To gain the land in peace and war

A better land than we had before.

To make that land our very own

For our children and their children grown

For we come from the North with sword and axe

With eyes of blue and hair of flax.

We bring our cattle and handsome steeds

We bring our grain and bless├ęd seed

We bring our women and children along

We bring our hope, our courage, our song.

See how about us the dolphins play

Soon the morn shall bring a new day

A new light is dawning for the folk

With every pull of the oarman’s stroke.

Eyes and swords, all gleaming bright

“Ahoy my boys, there’s land in sight.”

Bravely we sail along the bay

Our faces glisten with salty spray.

Copyright Alan Cole 2015

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Ablaze, upon a lofty green hill

Below in the marshes the air stands still

I lift my eyes, gaze at fierce midnight stars

With open doors they are not so far

To see what lays behind each spark

With a wide open mind in the shining dark.

Each blazing star is a friendly light

Emblazoned on a splendid night

They form in groups that Spirit moves

They show the future, what behooves

For linked they are to the fates of men

The metals and trees, the winds that bend.

And so I stand, alone on this hill

To watch and wait, for Heaven’s great wheel

To turn around me like a great clock

All it takes is my mind, to unlock

Eternal realms beyond the sky

Where stars, men and dreams

Will never age or die.

Copyright Alan Cole 2015

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The Air of Freedom

Rock pool ripples circling

Expands outward to a rim of stone

Grey, smooth rock lining the shore

Of soft pale sand, tiny yellowy grains of stone

Smashed, crushed, into what we call land

Forming wind-piled dunes of tufted grassy tussocks

Dry and whispering dryly where the sea-breeze blows

Carried by crows and gulls, on the air of freedom

Telling tales of timeless music

Sung before the advent of man

Many moons ago, I see it clearly

In the mind’s eye, the eye of Siva

Piercing through the veil of ignorance.

I walk barefoot along the seashore

Stepping between starfish, dry and salty

Guiding my heart to follow the beautiful songs

Of free spirited gulls

On wings of primeval whiteness

Back to the source, where it all began

For here I am free, in this solitary strangeness.

Copyright Alan Cole 2015

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