Monday, 25 October 2010


Why are we devotees of a devil?
Why do we relish his talk and revel
In wild imagination and chatter,
Natter, natter,oh dear what's the matter?
He's the wretched slayer of all that's Real,
Full of stale garbage, planting a great deal
Of rubbish in poor worried anxious mind,
So our shining True Self's so hard to find.

It's time this rogue imposter was expelled,
Burnt to ashes, or on a stake impaled;
Then the soul can enjoy deep peace and love,
And all the blessings poured down from above.
He's egotistic and arrogantly vain,
To have him in our home is such a shame.

Sunday, 10 October 2010



THERE’S FIRE in ruby red, and fire at heart,

In hearth’s glowing grate, in passion’s flower,

In the night watchman’s light house tower.

Flame is sacrifice in the goldsmith’s art,

In forked lightning’s flash of thunderous power,

In rosey blushing dawn’s awakening start;

In red hot lava, with its flowing molten part,

In scarlet sunset’s radiant dusky hour.

Fire scatters galaxies like seeds of grain,

Stars are diamonds in God’s eternal crown,

Comets dance as planets watch, peering down.

The milky way’s a lustral bridal train,

Waltzing, whirling, walking on an astral plain,

Suns light up streets in this celestial town.


THERE’S FIERCE fire in germ of golden grain,

In heart of kindly King who sports a crown,

In neck of swan that’s gliding river down,

In monstrous belch of engine hauling train.

In glowing windows in everybodies’ town,

In fireflies flickering by night in verdant plain,

In stormy clouds proudly pregnant before the rain,

In angry rage of a self-righteous frown.

Fire dwells in stems of roses, red at heart,

In bees that drink from pollen’s virgin flower,

In the war torn ravage of a blazing tower,

In autumn leaves gilded by nature’s art,

In magic moments of the witching hour,

In such wonders, fire plays the most potent part!


FIRE flares golden in fine flaxen flowers,

Like the divine spark shining in every heart:

The flame of genius fans the painter’s art,

Fire hides in God who wields such powers.

In pent up horses before the races start,

In swift descent of angels at a blessed hour,

In a volcanic burst, viewed from a lofty tower.

In each life spirit, fire plays an essential part.

Fire acts when an evil house burns down,

Fire’s wild with wrath and wastes a wicked town;

Fire burns useless stubble from the harvest plain,

Fire bakes the bread, worked from winnowed grain,

Fire inspires the Sage, his votaries to train,

In the Kingdom of Creation, sacred fire’s the crown!

{A Triadic Sonnet Cylcle using the same rhyme endings in each poem]