THREE FLORAL SONNETS

1

BLUEBELL WOOD

I walked a walk in nearby Bluebell wood,
A wild flower garden arched by aspen trees,
When sunshine casts its searchlight beam on these,
We're raised to God, the blessed and the Good.
This is the home of Beauty if it's understood;
Art without Her shall always cease to please
Nor take Soul back to worship on his knees,
As poetry, music, painting truly should.

A painter came to Bluebell Wood to catch
Its wonder on his canvas in due course;
Try as he might his skill could never match
The magic marvel of Mother Nature's force.
He realised there was a limit to his power
To capture the God-like beauty of that sacred hour.

2

DAFFODIL

Easter Lily, named by those whose blooms we love,
Golden yellow, surging wild in wood or field,
They open fresh perfumed petals to yield
To sunlight, shining down from high above.
We wait for the sign of the peaceful dove
To save us from Noah’s flood when soul is healed,
And our covenant with God is truly sealed,
Mad demon ego receives his killing shove.

Emblem of all that's good in Christ's Teaching,
The Easter Lily shines as a floral light,
The Christian Way of Love is ever reaching
The hearts of those who for redemption fight.
This flower of Beauty feeds the yearning soul,
Of those who crave salvation, and be made whole.

3

ROSE GARDEN

In my rose garden warmly rouged by dawn,
There grew white arum lilies shining too,
Pranked with iris, softly clad in blue.
Radiant roses glowed crimson like the morn,
I strolled amongst the fountains. In my view
Such Lady Beauty spoke as Being True.
True in the sense that Art is Beauty born,
To waken souls of men to God divine.

My garden was the threshold to that place,
Well enriched by brilliant bright sunshine.
I felt the gentle hand of blessed grace,
That rose garden was truly Highest Art,
A joy that moved me to the depths of heart.

DAFFODIL

Easter Lily, named by those whose blooms we love,
Golden yellow, surging wild in wood or field,
They open their perfumed petals to yield
To sunlight, shining down from high above.

We wait for the sign of the peaceful dove
To save us from the flood when soul is healed,
And our covenant with God is truly sealed,
And demon ego receives its killing shove.

Emblem of all that's good in Christ's Teaching,
The Easter Lily shines as a floral light,
The Christian way of Truth is ever reaching
The hearts of those who for redemption fight.
This flower of Beauty feeds the yearning soul,
Of those who crave salvation, and be made whole.

ROSE GARDEN

In my rose garden warmly kissed by dawn,
There grew white arum lilies shining too,
Pranked with iris, softly clad in blue.

Radiant roses glowed scarlet like the morn,
I strolled amongst the fountains; in my view
Such Lady Beauty spoke as Being True.

True in the sense that Art is Beauty born,
To waken souls of men to God divine;
That garden was the threshold to that place,
Well enriched by brilliant bright sunshine.

I felt the gentle hand of blessed grace,
That rose garden was truly Highest Art,
A joy that moved me to the depths of heart.

BLUE BELL WOOD

I took a walk in nearby Bluebell wood,
A wild flower garden framed by aspen trees,
When sunlight casts its spotlight beam on these,
We're raised to God, the blessed and the Good.
This is the place of Beauty if it's understood;
Art without Her will always cease to please
Nor take Soul back to order on her kneees,
As poetry, music, painting truly should.

An artist came to Bluebell Wood to catch
Its magic on his canvas in due course;
Try as he might his skill could never match
The wondrous marvel of Mother Nature's force.
He realised there was a limit to his power
To capture such God-like beauty in that hour.

GRATITUDE

Pink apple blossom festoons and showers
Love, amongst ripening orchard flowers,
In summer's gracious golden sunny hours.

Busy humming bees sip the nectar sweet,
And pollinate, so in time, nature treats
Man to fresh juicy fruits to choose and eat.

Such are mother nature's generous gifts,
Body, mind and spirit she gently lifts
To greet the heart, where inspiration shifts

The soul to happy joy and blissful peace.
May such bounteous blessings never cease,
Our gratitude to God will thus increase.

All praise and love to God almighty King,
In thanks for all his grace we gratefully sing!

CHARTRES CATHEDRAL

THE GLORY of God’s Gospel glows with light;
Pilgrim sees growing from green on the ground
A tall temple of stone hewn high on a mound.
Her sculptured craft astounds his purblind sight,
He falls down, surrendered, with all of his might.
He’s awed by the magic charms of her sound,
Angels chant psalms, stained windows shine bright.
It’s New Jerusalem, the City of God re-found.

Each niche tells a legend set in tinted glass,
Radiant rainbow hue, sparkling like dew,
The inward mind knows her message to be true.
Pilgrim feels healed by the visions that pass,
His Soul wakes up, no beam blurs his eye,
Heart’s upraised by her spires, high in the sky.

Her steeples aspire like arrows aimed at God;
Prayers assault her vaults, for heaven’s sought.
The soul’s inflamed to blaze in its earthy clod,
By Saints, who from her oaken pulpit taught.
A medieval miracle, mighty marvel, to behold!
Amazed by the maze on her limestone floor,
Many parables on her painted panes unfold,
We stand in awe before her portal door.

To calmly comprehend the art of Chartres,
Where cryptic Christian chrisms are unveiled.
Start to chart her craft inside your heart.
In such masterly masonry, much is revealed.
Her stained glass windows glow like precious gems,
Showing celestial scenes from which truth doth stem.

Ah Chartres! ‘mystere merveille’, enigmatic book
Of God’s creation, you’re an emblematic sign.
Architectonic is your binding, majestic, divine,
Your pages etched on alchemic glass. So look
For graven keys in carved and buttressed nook.
Christ points the way the saints and martyrs took,
There were miracles, wan water turned to wine,
Wonder of Chartes, may your beauty e'er be mine.

On slabs of limestone lies a cryptic maze
Soul’s riddle, the puzzle in which she’s caught.
Once dancing here, a Master Templar taught
His Masons, the measured steps to freedom’s ways.
In Chartre’s stone arches, clues are given,
Sacred tunes for hymns, wend their way to heaven.

Dig down deeply, dive in one’s Self to find
The Chartres Cathedral inside the inner heart,
The real temple ever bides behind the mind.
Stab the stoney slabs of sleep, and start
To plunge within the cloister well, hold breath
In one’s sanctum sanctorum in the east transept.
Notre Dame de Chartres mirrors the One inside,
The Light Of The World behind the door, doth hide.

So step beyond the Gothic shades, uncover all!
The Kingdom Of Heaven shines within, not out,
Real Chartres shines within one’s heart, so turn about
Into the Self within, where God's Grace doth fall,
Chartres Cathedral, miracle for all to see,
A pilgrimage there may well enlighten thee

IN PRAISE OF SRI RAMANA MAHARSHI

Let’s give thanks to Great Lord Ramana,
For his boundless Grace and Jnana teaching;
He grants silent diksha without vain preaching,
And the precious gift of atma vichara,
His directly liberating, true sadhana.

His eternal presence is close; ever reaching
The hearts of all devotees, so breaching
Mad ego’s fortress of dark avidya.
We feel devotion through our gratitude,
For leading us out of dread samsara;
He bestows full faith, strength and fortitude,
He transmits the power of Arunachala.

Ever our loving guardian and guide,
Deep in our hearts his lotus feet abide.