Tag Archives: Derbyshire

Bardic Review…

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It has been our policy for some time now to ask Companions to bring readings for inclusion in our Landscape Weekends…

We first tried this on the Glastonbury Walk-and-Talk weekend and were delighted with the results.

The energies of the earth it seems respond favourably to the human voice, especially when it is utilised to bring forth heartfelt emotion.

…Our readings to date have ranged far and wide over a spectrum of traditions and forms although it seems that the shorter pieces, generally, have more effect.

On the now distant ‘Circles Beyond Time: Seeking the Seer’ weekend one of our Companions chose to give a rendition, unaccompanied of a Robin Williamson composition, October Song.

Coincidentally, we were due to attend a Robin Williamson concert later that week and so the opportunity to tie these two events together became irresistible…

It is a relatively old song now, if age has any meaning for a song,  and it was once described by Bob Dylan as ‘quite good’.

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‘I’ll sing you this October song,
Oh, there is no song before it.
The words and tune are none of my own,
for my joys and sorrows bore it…’

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‘…Beside the sea
The brambly briars, in the still of evening,
Birds fly out behind the sun,
and with them I’ll be leaving…’

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‘…The fallen leaves that jewel the ground,
They know the art of dying,
And leave with joy their glad gold hearts,
In the scarlet shadows lying…’

‘…When hunger calls my footsteps home,
The morning follows after,
I swim the seas within my mind,
And the pine-trees laugh green laughter…’

‘…I used to search for happiness,
And I used to follow pleasure,
But I found a door behind my mind,
And that’s the greatest treasure…’

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‘…For rulers like to lay down laws,
And rebels like to break them,
And the poor priests like to walk in chains,
And God likes to forsake them…’

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‘…I met a man whose name was Time,
And he said, “I must be going, ”
But just how long ago that was,
I have no way of knowing…’

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‘…Sometimes I want to murder time,
Sometimes when my heart’s aching,
But mostly I just stroll along,
The path that he is taking…’

October Song, Robin Williamson.

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I rather think that the stones of Carl Wark enjoyed our Companion’s rendition of this song, and I’d also like to think that Robin would have been pleased with it too…

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Mysteries…

mystery

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“You’ll know it,” he said, “by the stone stairs and the hawk’s head over the lintel.”

I was expecting a carving, or a painting, or possibly even, an offering, not half a cliff-face…

Nevertheless, it had still been a bugger to find.

The light was fading when I tip-tipped down the stone steps and stood before the crudely imposed entrance.

I stepped inside…

A dim glow lit the interior and the odour of old incense, clung…

He stood and turned, a huge bull of a man.

“What took you so long?”

“I got here as quick as I could.”

“Coffee?”

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La Chapelle Verte…

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All stands hidden

Out-of-sight

At the heart of the cavernous world.

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All lies sequestered

Black but comely

In the cavernous heart of man.

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The unseen green within grey rock

Wielder of Psyche’s Axe

Looser of her Emotional Block.

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Our animal soul crowns the summit

Inanimate intimacies call

‘Drink deep – Drink deep’…

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Don’t merely dip a doltish finger-tip

Like felt for freely-gifted gold

or spawn of devil’s bloodied-blot.

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Not sentiment nor sediment

Can satisfy

Such cavernous yawning.

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Drink deep of Night

And wake

To Day’s Dawning.

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All lies hidden

Out-of-sight

At the heart of a cavernous world.

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Scryer of Time…

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Scryer of Time.

On sky weathered stone

our accidental tourist  has stepped

through long horned, shaggy coated, cattle

to glean and ponder

the sun in rippled grain:

no shadow cast

from this bright interior’s sheen

the mountain top of yonder earth

beckons…

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Should an eagle become an egg

all fracture

I’ll fly!

I’ll fly!

beyond that outer maelstrom

of troubled cloud

and return heather dusted

 head space full

of truth’s sweet, fragrant lie

lipped to life’s cold scrutiny

in a fluid bowl of vision.

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May moss-fleck

reflections

trickle…

to ground and save us one and all:

Scryer of Time.

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Cave-Dweller…

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I am the Imp

Black…Stark

My electric-blue eyes

Can see clearly

In the dark…

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I can see those who come to my cave to play,

and those who come to learn.

I can see those who come to my cave for fun,

and those who come for fame.

I see those who are  utterly

incapable of giving me a name.

But whether or not you believe in me,

to me, it is all the same…

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I am the Imp

Black…Stark

My electric-blue eyes

See you all, clearly,

In the dark.

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Looking Out…

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I have lain here for millennia

watching ages pass.

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Great beasts once roamed my slopes.

I saw them take to the air.

Their leathery calls scarring the sky.

In a fiery eye-blink they were gone.

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Ice flows then kissed my rugged cheek

with cold, thin, sticky, lips

and time ushered in a new form of dominion.

Bi-pedal.

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But they too have all but gone now

transforming themselves into machines

which will devour everything

like the great beasts of old.

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But I will still endure, watching

ages pass, for millennia more…

 

 

Not a stone…

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It is a familiar conundrum.

Whenever we come across sites like this, and we seem to come across more than a few, there is an inevitable question.

How much of it is natural?

Without question much of it is, but the more one finds that is not natural then the more one tends to question that which was initially assumed to be so.

On our most recent jaunt we came across the suspicious looking stone above.

To my mind that was very obviously a positioned stone.

It is an interestingly enough shaped stone in itself but more than this, it seems almost inconceivable that it could have fallen like that or have been left by retreating ‘Ice Giants’.

But then there arises the inevitable following question.

So why was it positioned in this way?

And to this question, unfortunately,  there is not always a readily forthcoming answer.

But this time we were lucky.

Question: ‘When is a stone, not a stone?’

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Answer: ‘When it is a nose (and an eye).’