A elder of the Psychosynthesis Trust community shares their latest poetry collection. The collection is inspired by the changing of seasons in 2025, from Winter to Spring. All images were taken by the same soulful creator. By reading this, may you find inspiration, harmony and opportunities for reflection.
So here it is, my poetry,
the clobber of transformation
that I cart around with me
so I can see things anew,
so I can feel the dust mote
of inspiration falling,
expanding in my head,
first into an image,
then into a line,
a precious line
that tumbles out
and leads to another
and then another
until they are all falling,
trailing colours behind them
that mix with my tears as they do.
Words
There’s something I want to tell you,
something that’s very important,
but I’m not sure my words
can capture it, and even if they could
I’ve been told that if I speak them I will die,
but the person who told me that didn’t realise
that this is important enough to me to take the risk,
so listen carefully …
Creation
I saw the winter frost
sparkling in the moonlight this morning,
walked under the buds on the trees
waiting for spring to unfold them,
I heard the sound of my feet
echoing on the pavement
and felt my heart beating faster
as I climbed the hill towards our house.
I don’t know if there really is a God
but if there is, then let it be this, all of this.
A pool of perfect peace
All this disturbance,
the wars we fight within ourselves
and with each other, the hatred and the bloodshed,
it’s all happening within a pool of perfect peace
that glistens with light, vast and without end …
what a terrible way to have to discover it!
Sooner or later
Sooner or later
you’ll have to go beyond
your go-betweens, when you do
be sure to thank them as you leave
and hold them in your heart,
because they will have loved you
as fiercely as you have loved them,
but even so, who wants to drink water
that has already flowed under the bridge?
Better to press on and find the source,
the high place, where the water gurgles up,
fresh and pure, from between the rocks.
Knowing
The Creator knows,
and since we are
part of creation,
it follows that we know too,
we know when we look up
into a star filled sky,
when we watch the sun rise
or when great waves come
and wash our efforts away,
we know when our loved ones die,
we know in the eyes of our children
and the gentleness of animals …
… don’t pretend you don’t know,
we all know.
Failure and success
I’m not just a bad poet,
I’m also a starry-eyed hypocrite,
every day I write about beauty, truth and love
and every day I fail them, but even though I can’t touch the stars
I can still see them, and every day they guide me,
so as I trudge through this difficult world,
the stars light my heavens
while my failings stir my soul.
Geology
This morning
I don’t have much to say,
it’s been a long week
and with all the work I do
I have emptied myself out,
perhaps it wouldn’t be so bad
if I filled with something else
but that’s not happening,
not this morning anyway,
so I will do the only thing I can,
I will wait, and while I wait
I will say to myself,
‘I’ve had a good life,
it’s nearly killed me
several times over
and probably will in the end
but still, I can’t complain,
I started as clay, turned into flint
and now I’m a pebble’
My spine
I feel your fingers trace my spine,
my spine, the first part of me, the record keeper,
and you pressing gently between the vertebra
as if they were the keys on a piano, finding the tune,
the tune of my life, the dark places, the unfinished parts,
the parts weary from work as well as the parts that will not bend,
that help me stand upright during storms,
that keep my head in the stars
and my feet on the ground
so my back can be what it’s meant to be,
a lightning conductor in life and my way home in death.
The age of love
There’s a beautiful light,
an indestructible light deep within us
that is both radiant and receptive,
it doesn’t just shine, it can absorb, rejoice and weep
but more than just this, it can love, it is love,
and now, as we stand on the edge of oblivion, united in fear,
it wants to live, because this edge is the threshold to an age of love,
it is love and love alone that can remove our fear from the future,
our fear of being ridiculed and sneered at, our fear of death
and it is and fear alone that makes us hide in hypocrisy,
fear of our unspoken beauty, our unlived love
and our hidden lights.
Freedom
Once you are free,
I mean owned by your soul,
then the walls of your prison,
the bars at the window, the door,
the hinges, the lock and the key
all become your servants
and your jailers become your allies.
Dawn
Soon the light will rise
and the pale morning mist will roll down,
through the pine trees and into the open
where it will be dispersed by the warmth of the sun,
thus night will end and so the day will dawn,
what was hidden will be revealed
and with it all that needs healing,
look in your books, look to your religions,
where will you see such words written down?
Perhaps in poetry alone can you read these things,
words which form bridges between worlds
and call out to the homeless wanderer.
Composition
I wish I could tell you
that I compose poetry,
but it wouldn’t be true,
I can only really take credit
for holding the pencil,
the best lines always compose me.