Poetry, Muse & Art


The picture frame I brushed carelessly as passing by,
Still rocks to and fro upon the wooden door frame…

Much longer than is norm does she dance with wares held high on head,
Red och-re wrap hypnotically swaying upon my questioning mind.

Yet around me muffled noises emanate from a now darkened house,
Impatient evening turns to restful night as its inhabitants retreat into silent solitude…

Sat waiting for Her to rise, my fingers rest delicately poised on keys,
Listening for Her to speak through me in whispers all but silent.

Never to be heard by others, Her wise and knowing voice,
But occasionally and with quiet Spirit, expressed in black on white..

She is within me...

Thoughts of recent conversations swirling in defiant un-trusting mind,
Raw still emotions spiraling their descent into remembered, imprinted ecstasy.

Still she is within me…

Yearning to express Her thoughts to he who would deny them with false exquisite kindness,
She watches wisely from her point of perception, rationally damping down the fire of impulsive actions.

She is with me now...

Her ancient loving embrace reaches out to support a wounded yearning soul,
One whose innocence could not perceive that such Love would be used as a weapon.

When forgotten reasons for silence evade me, as wishful manifestations caress my senses into submission.
I merge with Her wise and loving counsel, secure in Her Universal Womb to prevent another anguish.

We are One now...

© TBC. October 2013

The Trickster

I met the trickster at the crossroads and he had a pouch of moondust in his pocket, or so he told me.

He spoke in riddles, with a spittled lip.

I watched the beads of mouth dew wink in the sunlight, the cracked skin around his lips like the fissures in the desert rocks.

He said, “In the desert there is wisdom for the few and knowledge for the many, but the thirst goes unquenched for all.”

He wiped his mouth and squinted at the sun, his hand turning in his pocket.

I leaned in to listen and held out my hand to offer him a stone.

He said, “I journeyed here on the years and time lines, song line trails,

each and every one, and each one converging into now, into one.

I look down and see his toenails browned with age, poke through old leather sandals.

I feel a sudden tenderness towards them and to the journey of his calloused feet.

He digs deep into his pocket and hands me the bag of Moondust, laughing and saying,

“The great unsolved riddles are unravelling, like the crones knitting wool.”

“Its all at your fingertips, its all in here” He taps my temple with his dry finger, then my third eye and lastly, my heart.

He turns.

I watch him shuffle away, as I hold the bag tightly in my hands.

I wait till he is no longer a shadow and then I reach in and pull out a perfect moon,

glowing in the palm of my hand.

© 2010 Mhairead McDonald


  1. A Song to change hearts and minds ! http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0w_sNGkjMQc

  2. Perceive

    Do you believe the chinese whispers,
    or only what you see with your eyes ?
    Can you be sure of what you're seeing,
    or do you soak up all the lies ?

    Why believe words over actions ?
    When actions tell you so much more !
    Sight and sound are merely fractions
    of World stages shore to shore !

    There's people crying, children dying,
    and more and more the bombs are flying !
    Earth is shaking,the sun's gone mad,
    Water's tainted, and the food is bad !

    There's radiation killing us all,
    Sustainable resources taking a fall !
    Holes in our ozone, and a pole shift,
    Tsunamies in store as techtonic plates drift !

    Animals dying and birds dropping dead,
    Tornadoes abound, weird storms overhead,
    It's all on the increase,new records galore,
    Floods, drought and blizzards like never before !

    When will we wake up and is it too late ?
    Has mankind really sealed his fate ?
    The question therefore falls to you
    "Sit and take it" or "Do what you gotta do" ?

    Gregory Scott Busby

    1. Very good. A poem that is relevant, addressing the concerns so many "poets" ignore.

  3. Enjoyed your poetry. Thank You

  4. Gregory Svott Busby26 July 2020 at 11:15

    When a drop of water is in the ocean, it only knows that it is the ocean, so the drop must be taken out of the ocean to learn what it is to be a drop, so that when it rejoins the ocean it knows that it is both the drop and the ocean.
    We are both the drop and the ocean and we can choose to be either, or we can learn the balance of Nature and be Both and be Whole.


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