All that I see.

All that I see. 

Another restless night I’ve been, 
Filled with things that I have seen.
Crazy thoughts or lucid dream.
Noise so loud I wake and scream.
I write it down nothing to lose.
The brightest colours and vivid hues.
Bright lights and beings visit me, 
They are just some of what I see.
And as I am brought back awake,
with buzzing nerves that start to shake.
I wonder was it all a dream, 
The lifelike things that I have seen.
The noises I heard inside my head, 
That seemed so loud there in my bed. 
Light so bright moving through, 
Not just white, red and orange too,
Green and violet and brightest blue.
Would you believe if I told you?
Sometimes swirling it will surround, 
Lands like a blanket on the ground.
But its not grounded its over me, 
Leaves me questioning my sanity.
Bathed in an ethereal glow, 
I look for light at my window.
Unsure of this blessing or a curse,
I wake to write it down in verse.
As the words come back to me, 
Of all the things that I see.
Arms hug tightly that they bind, 
The restless things there in my mind.
The pounding chest which starts to heave, 
Strange people and things up and leave.
There are beings I’ve not seen before, 
You sometimes read of in folklore.
When I awake and my limbs freeze, 
A silent image, a glimpse, a tease.
Then I awake with a start and its gone, 
where the brightest light there once shone.
More than once I’ve felt abused. 
Which left me angry and confused.
Sometimes it scares me half to death, 
And I wake fighting for my breath.
Or send it packing with a shout, 
Ask the unknown what it’s all about.
But sometimes the answer won’t come to me, 
About the things that I can see.

This image is the feminine version of the masculine I saw in a dream. It came to me and with one bright blue and a bright white Iight in his other eye came right up close to me and looked straight into mine. He looked curious about something, his head on one side. It unnerved me and I awoke, questioning and asking what that was about.  He gave me a name, I am none the wiser at this point as to why.  I felt inclined to draw the face that I saw, although I am not sure that I can do it justice my brief sketch is below. But he was almost like faerie like or elfin both in movement and stature.

The next day I saw this wonderful feminine image and was so drawn to it with the same face and now I am also curious.

Christina Smith the artist is located in Wimborne, Dorset and creates these wonderful talking sticks from cold clay and driftwood, making unique and very beautiful pieces of art. Find her on her Facebook page Ferae Naturae or via her webpage. www.spiritofthetrees.biz

Christina has very kindly given her permission for me to use the images for this beautiful piece of artwork to share with you.

Intricate dreaming.

It’s happening again, the broken sleep, the intricate dreaming.

Woven stories with such a huge amount of detail that it feels I am not sleeping at all, but reliving a moment in the past, except that it can also feel like the future.

Things that I should know, are laid out before me.  As clear as day.

Unrecognisable places where my life is unfolding.

People who seem to know me, where I am a part of their unknown life.

Like the ghost of Christmas past has visited and gone, is this the present and the future all rolled into one?

There is such clarity, a picture in time, just there. No explanation of it.

No voice to tell me why.

Or a statement of fact or truth, like a lightning bolt, waking me from slumber, forcing me to sit up and take note. Literally.

Sometimes, I am able to return to sleep, much later on in the night. Then I go back to dreaming the same dream, the same people the story growing as the night continues. I awake and can relive these dreams over and over, remembering the minutest detail once I am up for the day.  Sometimes I feel that I don’t want to be there at all, not with a part to play or even as a bystander. Sometimes the subject matter concerns me so greatly that sleep is gone for the rest of the night and I am perturbed or upset.

Occasionally I just awake with a different feeling, as though something has changed its course and I am unable to do anything  about it. I merely have to accept the new direction and go with the flow.

And in my waking hours things have also changed. There are skills that were previously hidden from view suddenly out in the open. Improvement in my mathematics, mental arithmetic and that is a first for me. Also painting and drawing that actually looks like its meant to. Recognisable artwork, just because I have tried a new technique I’ve seen or a different medium.

Things like I have experienced some sort of awakening to the real me. The feeling that nothing is impossible and I just have to try and it will all pan out. Perhaps the universe is finally working in my favour. Teaching me how to be better or stronger, preparing me for some unknown.

Image from Morguefile.com

The Upward Climb

Daily Prompts – Strategy

So this week we have had a super moon where awesome things are supposed to come our way, big changes which we hoped and pray for. I did a lot of thinking this full moon as I often do. I take time out on my own, just an hour or two with my thoughts and write things down. It helps to get things clear on my head, I definitely feel more positive when I can see her beauty and light shining down. These days I can rarely sleep over the few days before and after the full moon has visited. It isn’t excitement although each one does fill me with renewed hope that I will achieve my goals, however small and insignificant they may be to others.

After another almost sleepless night I felt compelled to sketch, well write actually, the things that I want to let go of. The things that do not serve me and that I want to see much less of. This is my first version, the one that contains hope for the future. There is another, which I will burn ceremoniously to rid myself of all the things that I want to be gone from my life, that have dragged me down for too long. It’s embers being sent off into the atmosphere along with the bad stuff. Cleansing my future and making way for an abundance of good things to take its place.

It is becoming my ritual to set myself free and set my intentions.

Fantasy Island, The Tour.

Yesterday I had my tour around fantasy island as our friend refers to it.It is tongue in cheek, but also I think a place where many crave to live. They are drawn to this place of beauty, surrounded by nature, where flora and fauna abound. A sanctuary in the south. It is private gated and restricted access so I felt privileged to get a guided tour from one of the Islanders.

I have only visited once before. Last time I came away my imagination fired up and I decided that it would be the most wonderful place to be able to live. Idyllic and the new life I crave for us would fit in there beautifully. 

His home with its interesting garden making use of things he has found, recycled items all around utilised within his space and others for projects yet to be undertaken. I found it so inspiring there I designed furniture following my last visit it reminded me of some of my as yet unfulfilled ambitions which I would like to work towards once my health improves.

Arriving there again I am filled with peace, my heart was racing as I arrive anticipation growing for what I might see whilst there. 

We drive, or rather he does so that I may be able to enjoy the view. I am in a semi altered state. Lightheaded or as though I am in shock. It could be the antibiotics or the painkillers. Or it could be just what I see there. I look at the houses as we pass and the fields and hedgerows as we drive slowly by, observing the lowered speed limit. It is a nature foragers dream, the hedgerows brimming with wild fruit, plums, elderberries. Blackberries, sloes. He stops to pluck one from the hedge for me to try. They would make Lovely jam I said, he agreed that they do. Enveloped by countryside with no one around hares running up ahead of us along the road and birds walking across the roads in front of us. We stopped at the cockle beach where apparently you can fish for Bass. I love sea bass. There was none but the birds. Around the island three rivers meet. Further round where it meets another river, there is a slightly more recognisable seascape. I may have seen near there before but not from this side. There were some wonderful rocks in beautiful colours piled high as though dropped there by giants. I intended to take photos on this tour but my eyes are taking it all in instead. The camera on my phone does not take one shot for the duration. Which as I write this I am regretting somewhat. It is unusual for me. 

Some of the grand houses, the homes with character and the cottages tucked away are empty. My imagination kicking in again as I wonder what I could do with one of them as a space of my own.The two pubs have long closed down as has the church. No longer required here lack of use forced their closure. There is one shop and there are farms in the village, it is a sleepy place. I wonder how and when it comes alive or if it is always like this. The workers have left for the day, a mass exodus off as I was arriving. Much of it looks deserted.

Our friend shows me his sculpture garden. Have you seen it before he said? No I replied. It used to be his allotment but he changed it. He built this to enjoy. In a non public place it is a community garden. He has had parties there and there is a summer kitchen with a pizza oven he has made. A pergola which has grape vines growing up it they have grapes this year apparently for the first time. There are plinths of marble and stone around and many of them hold small statues. They are not your average garden statue. Many are of the muscular male form draped around females. Holding, cherishing. I could have stayed there for a while. It was a place I could happily sit, embrace the moment and meditate. A calm place.

In the centre of the garden there is a huge stone column, about ten feet high and as yet I carved. He told me that it would become a dancing couple. I did not know when he took me there what I would find, the significance only dawning on me now in the early hours as I write this.
I was struck by the beauty of the stone. I asked who made them, he replied “some old bloke from over the road, he likes carving stone” I admired them blown away by what I saw, as he explained he told me about some them. He started the garden when his wife was gone I did not ask if it was in tribute to her. But it is clear that this man loves female company and why shouldn’t he for he is witty and charming, flirtatious and engaging and can cook. He also has several female friends who gather at his house for a meal on a regular basis.

There are signs carved in slate and sandstone sculpture along with white almost alabaster, possibly marble. They are beautiful and written with his sense of humour. The sculptures were something else and just the sort I like and appreciate. I wanted to touch them, feeling drawn to them and photograph them but it felt strange to ask. I have not known him very long and I did not want to push my luck.

He said that the locals are not interested in the garden, I asked why not it’s a beautiful place. They should use it if it’s for them too. 

He said that some of the other visitors to the island had seen it. I loved it.

Upon waking in the early hours it occurred to me, I may be way off the mark here but I get the very strong feeling that the “old guy over the road” was at that moment standing by my side proudly showing me his own statues. That he not only created the garden, but the sculptures within it. That the dancing couple would be formed one day by his own hands.

Only time will tell. There are clues, he is creative and has a good eye. His mother is an artist. He is useful with his hands, builds things in wood and has a beautiful garden. 

I thoroughly enjoyed my visit today, I don’t know if I bored him to tears with the subject matter. I talk more when I am nervous and I am not used to having the floor. When my partner and I are out together the conversation is more evenly spaced. It can’t have been all bad. I was invited to go and visit again whenever I liked. 

I might just have to go and ask him about his garden.

A burst of creativity 

25/6/17 After a week of feeling exhausted with high levels of pain and very little sleep I was met with an inspired moment. So this weekend’s sudden burst of creativity has come about by this….

A small pot of local flowers from my garden which either looked pretty or smelled nice. I thought I might be able to make some pot pourri to send to my friend in Australia as part of her birthday gift and to remind her of home. I miss her even more since she emigrated. Yes I have lots of wild flowers which have grown in the wrong place (otherwise known as weeds) but they are blooming and some of them smell rather lovely too so I’m not afraid to include them.

Unfortunately I then looked it up and found out that you cannot send plant matter to Australia since they have strict laws. So I thought about making her a wildflower bouquet mixed up with the ones from my garden and photographing it for her. Perhaps I would make it onto a notebook so she can write a journal, or get it printed for her and put in a frame. Who knows but on our evening walk we collected more and since it was a rainstorm by the time we arrived home I had to store them in the fridge overnight and so this was made today. 


It adorned my dining table for the day as I wasn’t sure exactly what to do with it next. Send it with blessings to the wind, or make the pot pourri out of it, it does smell rather nice. In the end I have opted for both. 

I was inspired by an artist named Day Schildkret who on his walks collects things and makes beautiful sculptural earth alters from his foraged finds which he photographs. Known as Impermanent Earth Art You can see his work at http://www.morningalters.com I love his work and am perfectly happy when doing my own foraging for beautiful things.

But it somehow set the ball rolling. Last night I wrote up my poems to the pc from the notebooks of my last trip it boosted my morale again finding out that I have almost reached my quota for my second book selection (a further 100 poems) and it seemed to trigger the writing again, suddenly whizzing around my head. This morning I wrote a poem about my friend who has invited me to her wedding next week. I plan to give it to her for a gift and thought that I need to do something else for them too. I am all for a bit of upcycled giftware and have made her a recycled roof slate chalkboard with the wedding couples initials in a logo and the date of their union. The slates were reclaimed from Scotland. I have a few of them I intended to make up for some friends and family or perhaps sell at a later date.


I hope that they like it. 

I also made one for our home which is personal to us. This has become our catchphrase of late since wherever we are as long as we are together it’s home.

It seems that I have been able to write more poetry this week. Not all of it suited to a book, or here but had to be written nevertheless.