Stone

Stone

Raining drops from heart of stone

Diamonds breaking in the dust

Galaxies of questions sparkle

In cold light of the dark

 

Windows through countless lives

Refracting the fullness of nothing

Colors ooze slowly, suspended

Fragments of timeworn illusion

 

Worn etched upon a memory

Of things that never happened

Quiet waves of tranquility

Caress the shores of an empty lake.

 

R.W.W. banfiadh – wolfthough2003

Thought = Form

Thought = Form

Life begins.

Dreams Fade

Hopes die.

People change

Hearts cry

Souls sigh.

Death comes.

 

And the sun sets, crimson.

 

Wind blows.

Grass grows

Leaves rustle.

Rain falls

Thunder tolls

Rivers run

 

And the sky dawns, iridescent.

 

Mountains rise

Stone crumbles

Sand sloughs

To soil

Trees grow

 

And the leaves dance, merrily

 

Stars are born

Planets drift

Through time

Suns fade

 

And the universe floats, unimaginably

 

We live for tomorrow and lose the day.

We worry always as life slips away.

We fret for what we have not.

And forget what we have.

Tomorrow is never here.

And you have this day to live.

 

Some days never change, some never stay the same

Music dances lyrically and the song remains the unchanged.

Life passes in bits and pieces, moments frozen in time.

Is there a need for tomorrow, to wake again?

 

Banfiadh –  Wolfthought5/2018

 

 

 

The Spell of Being

The Spell of Being

I am without time.

I am all times.

I am a speck of dust

I am a mountain of stone.

I am without form.

I am all forms.

I am the last Spark of Hope

I am the Inferno of Creation

I am the unseen Past.

I am the unknown Future.

I am the soft sigh of Death

I am the gale of Chaos

I am without Life

I am without Death

I am a silent Tear

I am an unbroken Wave

I am Spirit without form

And I am Form in Spirit

I am not

I am.

 

Banfiadh-2017

Interlude . . .

An excerpt from life.

Since I started this site, it has been an on again off again experience.

Until recently I lived in a situation which often hindered my creativity or desire to express in line, color or in word.

Often when I couldn’t craft and create, I could vent or rant, which is why I opened Ravensong – because I hesitated to hybridize the artist, with the cynic.

With a change in living situation, income source and finally, the “downtime” from the rat race my nature desires as an artist and the creature I am, my mind has started scribbling again, doodling across the vast empty canvass of my inner sight.

And thus here we are. Fresh new poetry, new art turning over in my mind and much to my delight, rummaging through my files bits and pieces that I have dusted off to share here.

Winter is often my best time as a working person to craft. It’s rather difficult to play outside when all you see is dark, and more dark. But it is fertile rich soil for the creative child, so off on my artistic tricycle I roam, to see what I can see.

Rain Menagerie

Rain Menagerie

I’ve ridden the winds that bring the rains

Flowed down creeks to the lakes that drain

And trickled to seas of the never tamed

 

A sparkling gleam of the dew in the morn

A colorful sky that a storm sends to warn

Drifting gusts that wind thru branch and thorn

 

I’ve raced with the hunter to call of the chase

Dodged the dogs of war in frantic life’s race

Hunter and Hunted, two sides of my face

 

Rabbits and Ferrets and quiet Moles too

The Moose, the Bull and a Fish swum true

Gazelle and Elk all a part of nature’s stew

 

The Buffalo dance, and Antelope bounds

The Thrush in the woods, Quail at ground

Hesitant Fawn waiting for comforting sound

 

The great friend Whale swims in jeweled seas

Not ever troubled by his brother, the Flea

Chipmunk and Squirrel, laugh safe in their tree

 

Sister Eagle soars through shimmering skies

Cousin Hawk dives swift, death on the fly

Even Vulture takes part in hiding life’s lies

 

The Coyote grins with an animate snicker

Fox eludes hunter with a brush tailed flicker

Small friend Weasel is ever so quicker

 

Hyenas, Leopards, Jaguars and Dingoes too

Tigers and Bears and Koalas and Roo’s

All creatures of life if your seeing runs true

 

The Wolf in his forest, the Lion his plain

The Stag in his meadow and Man with his brain

All brought together through life giving rain

 

 

Banfiadh2006

Consort

CONSORT

 

Within her arms I walk alone

Seeking for her always

Long trail of desolation

 

Facing ever outward

Adrift with only hope

She lies behind the veil

 

Glimpses of her come

Like stars in diversity

Within the waking dream

 

Touches of chance

Reflect upon one

In many unseen ways

 

Here she lies

There she walks

Shades of memory

 

Upon each face

I see her touch

Never wholly

 

Reflections of her

A scent, a taste

Touching hearts

 

She behind me

Yet beside me

Forever just beyond?

 

Long the separation

Lady, take my hand

Leave me not alone

 

banfiadh2009

Last Days of The Summer King

Last Days of the Summer King

 

The sun of his youth has faded

As he sits in silent contemplation

Skin wove with scars and tales

With the soft polish of weathered wood

 

Frost tumbles through his beard

Grown long beneath considered gaze

Eyes aglow as memories march

In quiet pageant of contemplation

 

Antlers worn white, rest upon his head

Rich entwined with cold kissed vines

A fading splendor that adorns his brow

Caressed with words of countless lives

 

The sounds of glee and laughter fade

As the skirl of music lies about him

And life around him dancing

In a furious array

 

His hands recall the memory of

The bright spring Maiden fair

His nose the scents that linger

Of the fiery Mother’s hair

 

And through the seasons turnings

As the year flew fast away

He smiles of his love the Crone

As they whiled away their days

 

From the rebirth in the Winter’s night

The laughter of Spring’s warming light

Through the fiery dance of Summer’s height

Unto the harvest of Autumn’s flight

 

He smiled as he recalled the days.

 

Snow settles soft about him

Tossed on the Winter’s wind

Grayness courts and calls him

As he turns his thoughts within

 

In shadowed time the way grows bright

He sees Her there within

Into her arms he gladly steps

While this tale begins again

 

The revelers turn towards him

With wry merriments chagrin

The words of blessing falter

As they wonder where he went . . .

 

Banfiadh2017