Posts Tagged ‘Nature’


No plea for sympathy but the reason for absence of creative thought

Soon I shall on the table lie
Beneath a bright light’s staring eye
As those behind the masks peer down
At one who sinks but not to drown

‘It must come out,’ the doctor said
‘and maybe more if it has spread.’
What could I say? My tongue was tied
With thoughts of those who may have died

But now resigned to what must be
I try to see objectively
And face whatever may befall
With strength I muster to the call

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Cloudy outlook

“How cold it’s been,” the papers say,
“and it looks like the same for May.”
How wonderful the trends to know
machines churn out so apropos.

The summer could be cold or warm
as stray percents far from the norm
to change the future for those who
believe that science can come through.

The one is wet the other dry
and faces stare up to the sky
with smiles or grimaces no doubt
as Nature works within, without.

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Image courtesy kanshutters

Grey days politically so drab
Merge with weather inclement
Falling rain and moisture rising
See the share price, not surprising

Mood swings colour life’s intent
Rainbows form as showers pass by
Clouds break once upon a time
Clocks, remorseless, ever chime

Marching on with banners flying
Singing songs from days gone by
Onward to the known tomorrows
Built of memory’s joys and sorrows

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Floral gathering


Photo courtesy John Walker

Nature’s pallet here to see,
well part of anyway,
reveals of flowers freshly grown
a story that is not their own,
but of those now just memories
that flutter in some inner breeze.

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Silent rain


Photo courtesy John Walker

Thoughts after a day or two of rainy weather

Who can count the raindrops?
Somewhere a sum might be
Held in those icy regions
Up high within that sea
A formula of Nature
Not tuned to man’s desire
That at some prescribed moment
Directs what must transpire
Irrational, oft seeming,
But of some plan no doubt
There hidden in the silence
Thought must needs do without

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Object Name: Arp 194 – Three interacting galaxies
Credit: NASA, ESA, and the Hubble Heritage Team (STScI/AURA)

Three spirals interacting
Creating worlds anew
Blue stars in congregations
Provide the future view

Of suns with moons and planets
Amidst the dusty lanes
And sentience abundant
That memories retains

I look in awe and wonder
Imagination wild
Upon this stilled resurgence
As one galactic child

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April’s arrived but then what’s in a name?
Nature is playing still its waiting game.
Springtime on tiptoes trips first here then there,
urging to action all those that might dare.

A planet moves so very far away
and eyes look up to see its rising suns
with scorching breath ignite another day.
Those of the night descend without delay.

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Capricious One

Another day that’s cold and grey,
the warmth of late a memory
and winter coats and scarves appeal
those parts then bared again to seal.

“Ne’er cast a clout till May be out”.
How true is still this proverb old
that warns how fickle is the spring
whose weather mirrors moods that swing.

A drizzle falls from thickening clouds
now drifting in on northwest winds
to sprinkle all that thirst for more
before revealing what’s in store.

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In focus

High pressure keeps the rain away.
The morning dew from nights still long
relieves the thirst of those so small
while roots search deeper of those tall.

The afternoons are warm a time,
enough to tempt some to repair
while lightly dressed outside to be
the first to show an arm or knee.

I watch the busyness around
as Nature stirs something inside.
A force that surges, needs to meet,
in all that hearken to the beat.

Demands of life are few it seems
when future dreams no longer haunt;
all energy is focussed clear
upon each task, no doubt or fear.

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Early spring

The vernal equinox — the first day of spring — arrived on March 20 at 05:14 Universal Time. This is its earliest arrival since the year 1896.

A sunny day, quite warm for March,
with little wind calls one to stray
outdoors to face the springtime chores
while bent, on knees, or on all fours.

The winter left its mark this time
with frost-browned stems, leaves, buds exposed,
but there’s a buzz of life around
that fills the heart without a sound.

A sunny day, quite warm for March,
green shoots and nodding daffodils
bring colour to this early spring
as those above cheep, tweet, and sing.

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Sitting here, a muttering below
Rises up ears to offend
Below the threshold of understanding
Most irritating and commanding

Experts gather to respond
To ideas floating in the pond
Of life that man has filled with thought
But empty of what’s really sought
A silence never quite achieved
By one so easily deceived

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“Modern cosmology, and indeed, much of modern physical science, is self-serving. It is not designed to make fundamentally new discoveries, merely to explore the current knowledge base. Even worse, where the assumptions cannot be tested independently of the model (and most of cosmology falls into this category), the assumption becomes law and forms the base for further assumptions.
Here’s the thing—if a scientific enquiry is conducted on the basis of an assumed model, and moves towards a result or outcome of that enquiry in a series of progressive logical steps, then clearly, the final result is assumed. The whole process is anchored in an assumed model; therefore the outcome is a subset of that initial assumption. Furthermore, the system reinforces itself.”

Quote from Hilton Ratcliffe’s editorial in the Feb. 2012 newsletter of the
Alternative Cosmology Group


One model acceptable
“Big Bang” so called
A truth everlasting
Oft overhauled

Expanding space carrying
All there within
Since that great explosion
Without a din

The universe when quite young
Sports those mature
Some think far too much for
Time to ensure

Dark matter, dark energy
Black holes galore
Space curvature guiding
Waves to the shore

The fingers of gravity
Reach to the night
At greater than light speed
Worrisome plight

New wonders of make-believe
No doubt will shine
Born out in those heavens
Of Thought’s design

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Into the light

Confusion reigned where certainty once ruled
But now man’s world, of which I’m still a part,
Unwittingly has cast me on a path
Directed by the compass in my heart

A clarity grows with each passing day
As truths and lies of old seen in new light
Merge and disperse to leave no doubts or fears
But revelations born of new insight

I see beyond the walls that culture builds
And ties break that still bind to words grown cold
I breathe a freshness that all overwhelms
When Nature wills her true face to unfold

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Inner tide

A personal observation, no doubt shared by others

Tiredness lies beneath the eyes
Behind the zygomatic rise
In pools that fill with sleep denied
That rises as some inner tide
But bring the focus there to bear
Of that somehow always aware
And oft those waters will recede
For slumber then there is no need

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Ice sculpture

Air surges freezing from the east
Its chill enhanced by raging wind
Still powdered white these leaves, not those
And feeling pinched are fingers, toes
Bare branches wild thrash toe and fro
Of those that sleep but somehow know
That winter has us in its grip
Allowing not a drop to drip

‘Now wrap up warm,’ I hear her say
‘Before you go outside to play.’
In far off days of carefree joy
When Nature watched a little boy
While slipping, sliding, compressed white
Snow crystals from gloved hands took flight
And he of coal eyes, mouth and nose
Stood somewhere near in easy pose

I look into the cold blue sky
With sculpted smile of times gone by

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A product of culture
Forged on the line
Honed by the voices
Symbols define
Lost in the daydreams
Those of the night
Phantoms beguiling
Clouding the sight

Views of eternity
Rise from somewhere
Calming the cold fears
Life’s wear and tear
But no escaping
Binds of the past
First breath of freedom
Would be my last

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Temporary thaw


Photo courtesy John Walker 

The grey clouds, featureless and low
Bring moisture from the southern seas
As winter waits not far away
And other forces hold their sway

Rain falls where frost has lately lain
Across this land of leafless trees
A patchwork still of sleeping green
Adds colour to the wintry scene

The annuals are still alive
Within their pots upon the wall
Somewhat bedraggled now it’s true
But precious are their days so few

Flowers of the rose in frozen joy
It seems, dance still upon the breeze
As blackbirds dart in search of fare
Within that movement always there

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Face of winter

First frost arrives as powdered white
Upon those staring to the night
A tingle added to that drawn
The breath of life each moment born

Cold quietness lingers, settles down
Oblivious to smile or frown
Storms that so long have had their way
By winter’s hand are held at bay

Sun’s rays are warm that pierce the air
To fall upon those few parts bare
Between the ice clouds drifting by
Upon that frozen sea of sky

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The peace one is seeking is already inside, in the harmonious functioning of the body

A light that shines so very bright
that turns to day the darkest night
burns deep inside what I call mine;
no thought has it to tow the line.

It seems somehow I can connect
with one not wayward or correct,
but driven onward to survive,
to reproduce and stay alive.

How is it that things go astray?
What emptiness is there at play
that draws me to wish and take stock,
to strike out and to run amok;

to rein in one that was born free,
to halt the gallop, blind to see?
Its movement leaves me far behind
midst cold illusions, man defined.

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This Christmas came and then it went
With lots of money being spent
According to the tabloid press
That enjoys such things to express

Now down we go to a New Year
The days slide by in second gear
As hopes and fears form in the minds
Of all who wish to draw the blinds

Perhaps a Mayan light will shine
Upon some undiscovered shrine
And throw man to the wolves of kind
That then devour his feckless mind

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