Thursday 29 October 2015

UTOPIA




























A lake encircled by swaying reeds,
And flowers shaded by crimson blush.
Koi dance on in the crystal depths,
While butterflies lap the pollen's touch.

Warm rays sneak through the boughs' embrace,
And brush away the summer mist.
They land upon the lizard's flesh
That by the gentle breeze is kissed.

Two brothers frolic in the joy
And lounge upon the warming sand.
Troubles that once did disturb them
Just echo from a fading land.

~ C. Spies

Friday 18 September 2015

THE JOURNEY





























A group sets forth on a new journey. They walk softly and gently, mesmerised by their new surroundings, tentatively feeling every blade of grass between their toes. As their feet become steady and their curiosity grows, they make their way towards the towering mound that sits on the horizon. What could lie beyond that fast approaching hill?

They are greeted by the fresh wonder of a new experience, and spurred on by the thought of another glimpse of beauty. The group hurries on from this place of tranquility, hoping upon hope that an even more enchanting view lies beyond their next horizon.

In the distance a vast bulk rests beneath the summer sky. The group gains speed, tense with anticipation, hungry for sights as yet unseen. Some in the group fall behind, while others jostle and shove, desperate to see beyond the towering mass. The group walks on. 

As they makes their way higher, time begins to slow. The pace is calmer; the group kinder.  As their sight improves, the group begins to take more time to appreciate the views that lie beside them. They take the time to reflect on every sight and every scent. Each flower is seen in full, every insect appreciated. 

Some of the group begin to grow tired and choose to rest in the calm of the passing meadow, but there are others who are still pulled by the imagined beauty of the summit.  Leaving those who wish to rest, the group continues on their journey. 

With the passing of time, the foot-falls become quieter and the conversations become a quiet hum. They continue to climb the towering mound, but slowly. 

As they make their way along their journey, more and more begin to lag behind, and, eventually, the group dwindles to two. A woman, once strong and fit, walks on. Her steps are cautious and her breath laboured, but her companion lends a helping hand. As they walk on, their conversation is quiet but comforting. 

Finally, there is only one who walks the winding road; only one who admires the flowers and the birds on this solitary hike. The woman's companion has walked for many miles, gently guiding the group along their way and gathering up those who fell behind. There is a calmness in the air and a sense of serenity. Having left the pathway emptier and emptier, eventually Death walks alone. 

~ C. Spies

Thursday 3 September 2015

DREAM




























Dream a little dream of me;
Of times long past and days now gone.
Dream of times of shining splendour,
With glowing lights and distant songs.

The age has past where we could see
Our future with lucidity.
We have no time for long-lost plans,
Or space for regularity.

Leave all your forlorn thoughts behind,
A trickle from the dried up stream,
Then run from your consuming lives,
And melt into your fragile dreams.

~ C. Spies

DIALOGUE OF A MISANTHROPE WITH HIS SOUL





























Death is before me today:
like the recovery of a sick man,
like going forth into a garden after sickness.

Death is before me today:
like the odour of myrrh,
like sitting under a sail in a good wind.

Death is before me today:
like the course of a stream;
like the return of a man from the war-galley to his house.

Death is before me today:
like the home that a man longs to see,
after years spent as a captive.

~ From "Dialogue of a Misanthrope with His Soul" (ca 2000 BC), now called "Dispute Between a Man and His Ba," from a papyrus of the middle kingdom of Egypt.

Wednesday 22 July 2015

DISQUIET




























I close my eyes
To clear my mind.
The pain inside 
That keeps us tied,
It's in the fear
That's drifting here.
Time depends on me,
I understand.

Why do you cry
Upon the night?
A ring of fire 
That burns to bright.
We drift away
To reach the day. 
Don't come to me,
I'll disappear.

Under the stars 
I feel no space.
We're coming now 
To clear the crowd.
Don't leave me here
To feel their fear.
I see my mind;
Open your eyes.

~ C. Spies

DARK ROOM




























I sit inside a darkened room
Surrounded by familiar gloom.
Under the door I see a crack,
But gusts of wind do blow it black.

Your face is not a mask removed,
But sketch all drawn with lines anew.
I see you form before my eyes;
A creature born of compromise.

Dichotomy of good and bad
Lies twisted in this selfish land
Where people live life to consume.
I sit here in my darkened room.

~ C. Spies

Saturday 28 March 2015

SUNSPOT


The sky is too bright for me today
So give me mist, storms, darkness,
To keep the blinding light at bay.

Give me the surging winds that howl,
The dancing fiends that twist and warp,
And crash on through the lazy boughs -
Oh, sunny days; My last resort.

Towards the tempest am I inclined,
With all the skies that rage and roar.
This sunny madness clouds my mind,
So let me watch my raindrops pour.

~ C. Spies

Monday 12 January 2015

SHADOW DANCE





























I once asked a shadow to dance,
To frolic and to play,
And begged him not to leave too soon;
I asked him if he'd stay.

He was a child of merriment,
Addictive in his charm,
And used to show the children things
That brought them to his arms.

His mocking tones would spring delight,
Initially it was always so,
But then the fast approaching night
Would send the children running home.

I once asked a shadow to dance
In distant yesterday;
He came at once to see me laugh
And we danced the years away.

~ C. Spies

MR. QUIN




























Oh, tricksy poltergeist,
Mr. Quin, Mr. Quin, Mr. Quin;
You've lost your lust for life
And now the darkness has seeped in.

A king of countless castles
With nowhere to call home,
The darling Mr. Quin must walk
Wherever he shall roam.

Invisible to staring eyes
And your gruesome, ghostly gaze,
Dear Mr. Quin does waltz along
Heedless of passing days.

~ C. Spies