Category Archives: Ancient Sites

Moons of Mountain Ana: Vamp…

*

Becky is beautiful

but kind and cruel,

in turns.

 *

Her eyes flash when I call her a vamp,

and when I bad mouth her boyfriend.

 “You make me laugh,” she says, “can I kill you?”

 *

She has the hair of a teenage friend,

the eyes of an old love, the profile and

features of a desirable aunt, the body of

the goddess Parvati, and a smile like paradise.

*

Her mischief resembles that of a childhood adversary.

 “I’m going to turn you into an ass,” she smiles.

*

 Her hoot face is reserved for her most cunning lies,

 “I thought I’d see you there,” yet she still

succeeds in soothing the situation.

*

 ‘Does she really sleep with him?’

*

“I’m sorry about your Grandad,”

she says, like Mum at such times.

*

Warmth floods the room…

 

Moons of Mountain Ana: Rituals..

*

Regardless of content, our most intense moments have a habit of assuming ritual clarity.

Together, the figures our characters cut are colourful, and bright, and amusing;

the wheel-spinning white car which your mother read about in my story, or Roma’s amber earrings, Louise and Paula, uncharacteristically, dressed in black.

*

Gemma,

who plays football,

and for whom love… is too painful?

*

Did I really say that?

She wants to travel, or that?

‘Me too! ’/ ‘that’s how I drink’/ ‘I do.

*

If only it,

and you,

and I

were true!

*

Even Sandra

mimicking my mudra,

and Mimi’s mint.

Moons of Mountain Ana: Laburnum…

*

With almost perfect symmetry little Josh

wants to take some flowers back to Mum.

*

 He plucks from the two Laburnum

grown together over a garden gate;

harmonious estate,

or the strain of embrace,

stretching… to cleave ?

The scent from the cups is intoxicating,

and yellow… Becky’s colour…

 *

O’ my tyger tree,

 your blossom

 will spread that smile

over lips which profess to disdain flowers.

 *

…On the way back Josh has an idea: he wants to visit his Dad.

 

Moons of Mountain Ana: Sulk…

*

Becky’s sulk face is adamant with indignation.

If she only knew how perilous it is to neglect the young.

*

…Our roles are reversed for the tale

of mum and dad and a kitchen knife,

which Fiona tells in sobs on the stairway.

 *

Something I said has recalled her

feather streaked cheeks of pain.

 *

She laughs

and we go on up

to talk about

a tennis ball

turned inside out…

 *

Becky speaks quietly

but her quiet voice banishes

distance like a shout,

“Josh, come back inside.”

 *

Is this redemption, or merely the wisdom

of being old enough to know better?

Found Mounds: the Call of Albion…

France & Vincent

hm15-917*

‘…Maybe it is because it is our third visit or maybe it is because there are three of us, or maybe we had to work out the St Andrew thing before we were allowed to ascend, who knows?

Whatever the reasons, we re-convene on top of the man-made-conical-mound which hides behind the Church of St Nicholas, High Bradfield and Wen has an interesting take on proceedings.

“If St Andrew of Scotland is Andrew the Disciple of Christ then he may have come over here with Joseph of Arimathea.”

“And remember at that time there was no Scotland. Scotland was North Albion!”

“North Albion,” smiles Wen, “I like that.”

“Why did they come here?” says Ned.

“If we knew that…”

“If we knew that, then what?” says Wen.

“If we knew that for sure, we’d probably all be millionaires,” I say, somewhat wistfully.

“Not necessarily,” says Ned, who may already…

View original post 120 more words

Found Mounds…

France & Vincent

Diana and co north 124

*

‘…We didn’t go to High Bradfield to look for a mound we went to High Bradfield for the church there but we found a mound anyway.

It was hidden behind the church and was purporting to be a disused Motte-and-Bailey.

It was also overgrown with curly trees not unlike those we were surrounded by when looking for the Chat-Stone, now lost…for the moment at least.

I am doing the mound itself something of a disservice here because it is not actually purporting to be anything other than what it is, how could it do otherwise, but the ‘authorities’ for want of a better word are now passing it off as a disused Motte-and-Bailey and have been, perhaps, for some considerable time.

Now, far be it from me to cast aspersions upon the dictates of authority and as there have been excavations at the site which did indeed uncover large…

View original post 264 more words