Glimpses of Memories

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Glimpses of Memories

A deep blue sky stretching to infinity,

                Bright yellow sun scorching,

                                Bathing us in warmth and light.

                                                A green world, alive with life,

                                                                Brsting with energy and dreams.

A flock of white doves effortlessly

                Swooping and soaring across the heavens.

                                The liquid blue so deep it ripples.

                                                Fluffy white clouds sailing imperceptibly through the ocean.

The rustle of insects industriously

                Toiling in among the dry beige undergrowth.

                                Larger creatures crawl and sniff.

                                                Green and red blood pumps.

I sit quietly among the colours of nature, of life

For one last glimpse.


Opher – 22.12.2024

I have such vivid memories of my idyllic childhood, sitting alone in the midst of a great flower-strewn meadow, the summer sun beating down, chewing on a stalk of hay, watching the life go on all around me, oblivious to my presence.

There was such an industry. Everywhere was so packed with life. I sat for hours fascinated by the beauty and wonder of what was taking place all around me. Magical times.

Poetry – The Sun was Shining

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The Sun was Shining

I woke up this morning.

                The sun was shining.

                                It made the trees dance in their dappled green dresses.

A mellow breeze

                Carried the scent of flowers      

                                Across the unending forest.

I watched the birds

                Flying between the branches,

                                Building nests and impressing each other with their song.

Beneath the canopy

                Creatures nibbled

                                On the verdant undergrowth.

The whole of nature

                Put on a show

                                Of interconnecting magic.

But, as the bulldozers started up

                And the chainsaws began to scream

                                I realised it was merely a wishful dream.

Opher – 6.3.2020

Once the world was carpeted in forest and the forest was alive with life.

Now we have destroyed the vast bulk of our forests and reduced that fabulous array of creatures to a small rump.

Once we talked of darkest Africa and unexplored jungles. Now we can board a plane and be trekking down logging trails into the deepest jungle to hunt the most exotic beasts and kill them.

Once the world was inaccessible and nature undisturbed.

Now eight billion of us kill everything that moves.

Where will it end?

Poetry – Solstice 2 – Our ancestors used to hold ceremonies to celebrate this.

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Poetry – Solstice 2 – Our ancestors used to hold ceremonies to celebrate this.

The Sun!!

We’re tried worshipping most things. The sun makes more sense that most. We live within its atmosphere and it gives us the light and heat that gives us life.

The Green Man and the sun gods Helios, Ra, Kehpri, Atum, Inti, Lugh, Hepa, Garuda, Huitzilopocthli, Apollo, Surya, Sol, Sol Invictus, Shemesh, Sunnya, and a host more, were all widely worshipped.

The longest and shortest days are good reasons for having a great festival and celebration. Nature is what supports us. We should respect it and celebrate its bounty.

I wrote this poem after seeing Nazca Nine on the Summer Solstice. It was a great gig. They were definitely waxing lyrical and many of the monarchs of yore were thought to be incarnations of Sun Gods.

Then there’s the Moon. It’s been a long time since we walked on it. I think some ancient cultures would have shuddered at the very thought.

Solstices are like a rebirth. I like the idea.

Solstice 2

Waxing on the lyrical

Beneath the sacred sun

Getting quite satirical

When God and Queen are one

Verging on the mystical

Beneath the sister moon

Leaning metaphysical

Hope we get there soon

Nineteen Nazca nine

Is looming from the dawn

Me and thee and thine

Are going to be reborn

Opher 31.12.98