Shi*'s articles

  • Under a Full Moon

    - 13 years ago - 4 comments
    The sword flowing like water Under a full moon Without thought, in its right time. - Shi*

  • Bull Dancer

    - January 22, 2009 - 4 comments
    And between the standing stones That pen the horn-ed power She stands adorn-ed Strong but fragile lithe Sudden sunlight bronze reflecting As I within without look closely on Visioned from my library of dreams As insubstantial as paper and leather Another watches me within without As I sleep seeing A tome triangular bound Falling From dream to vision Bull dancer.

  • Thought for the Day: Choice and Destiny

    - January 14, 2009 - 7 comments
    Traditionally, free will or pre-determination has been one of those 'mutually exclusive categories' questions. The more that I think about this one though the more it appears to me that it is more of an 'uncertainty principle' question. Put simply: which will apply depends on what you are looking at, at what level and for what purpose. 'Choice' is essentially a sentient activity, that is a thinking decision has to be made. We live at a biological and cultural level of experience and have no real…

  • Shikishi

    - January  6, 2009 - 3 comments
    I said, 'I love you but I am not in love with you'. Much later, I looked in my heart and saw that I had lied to myself. Why did I do such a thing? Was I afraid that you would run away? Was I afraid to face my fear of loss? Maybe neither or both but it makes no difference. My heart aches with the same sweet yearning. I write my soul in blood.

  • In Absentia

    - December  5, 2008 - 4 comments
    Waiting for a voice that speaks to my soul In these dark silent nights when the dreams fly wild Of swords, the fealty sworn and favours worn Truth divined in the lines and signs of the sky A raven messenger or a fairy princess may signify Attendance at court, a mirror crack'd, oaths honoured In vigil, dark silent knight, hold true.

  • The Edge of Silence

    - November 20, 2008 - 12 comments
    Somewhere out there, somewhere in here, there is a place where the dreamers go when the dreams need to be found, when they have left and Psyche sits like Narcissus gazing in a dark pool in an old place ... on the edge of silence. Where there are no words.

  • Dum spiro, spero ...

    - November  6, 2008 - 9 comments
    Lips pressed against mine. Returning from the darkness. Distant voices. 'Is he breathing?' 'I think he is breathing on his own now.' Consciousness returns. 'Are you ok, Dave? You stopped breathing there. I had to give you mouth to mouth.' Why am I lying on the floor? ... and jeez, I feel ... weird. Strange to brush with Le Morte again. And the bit that really bends my mind ... I can't remember going there.

  • Evensong

    - October 14, 2008 - 12 comments
    She shines full and bright Cool night air on my naked skin Dreams and memories Dance in the moonlight shadows Heart fire warms the soul Silent crying to the moon Can she hear my evensong?

  • 575

    - September 27, 2008 - 6 comments
    Pat-pat-pat falling The garden leaves freely weep Autumn morning mists.

  • The Golden Bather

    - September 21, 2008 - 8 comments
    Now, as the air becomes clearer and that special yellow-filtered light glows in the world outside my window, I am once more at home. In the sense of Fuchsia's attic in Peake's 'Gormenghast'. This is my time of year, always has been - I don't know why ... add it to my growing list of unknowns. But that it is, of that I have no doubt. When that first chill morning arrives and the clear light fills the thin air. When the leaves begin to take on their autumn collection. The New Look - every year. I…

  • Found

    - July 27, 2008 - 4 comments
    In the moonlight we find ourselves sitting in the old moonlight horned waning and golden blue-silk-sheened in the night warmth the hiding garden alive with soft movement of light on pale leaves and deeper shadows.   I dream of her as she rides the night illuminating my hot blood showing all things in a new light as she slowly dies   Teaching me my memories that death is change that she will be reborn in argent splendour that the summer's heat will pass tha…

  • The Navigator

    - July 12, 2008 - 9 comments
    These delicate and sensitive instruments. That guide the journey, fix position, set course. The heart that swells and beats. The soul that yearns. The mind that dreams. The body that burns.

  • Il Giardino Segreto

    - July  6, 2008 - 6 comments
    Pool Nudes Remix
    She asked me where this garden is As if she did not know That it lives In our dreams In our hearts In our souls.   I reply languidly with a kiss I looked in her eyes Saw her dreams Saw her heart Saw her soul.   She looked back, curious She had seen me naked In my dreams In my heart In my soul.  

  • Kerouac's Desolation

    - June 28, 2008 - 10 comments
    ... and where are the angels now? In the high places. Where most people don't go. Alone. In nature. Of nature.   To the low places. From the high places. Love. From me to me. From me to you.   Austere reflections. Of a hopeful traveller. Returning. Home.

  • Clouds pass by the Moon ...

    - June 17, 2008 - 8 comments
    In the land of dreams, in the sea of life, silver fish swim through dancing colours. The personal reality flows inward, flows outward. Clouds pass by the moon. Tired and dreamless, lost in the fogs of productivity. Marshalling resolve, the lone ronin presses on through the bamboo forest. Later, the fish will swim again ... Goldfish. In a bowl. watches through the glass wall to the unavailable beauty beyond. Asking: 'Is the distant appreciation of beauty sufficient ...' Replying: 'This i…

  • Desiderata

    - April 27, 2008 - 11 comments
    What is it that you want, she said, apropos of nothing. Unexpected silence. ... but by then the question had dug its thorny parts under my yielding skin and would not let go. What is my desire? where is the shortfall in my contentment? I started to turn it over. Perhaps it is in the difference between the intensity of dreams and the uneven content of reality, I mused. Those head holidays I take to exotic places ... places I have to admit that I could quite happily settle in. But then…

  • Weak Ending ... :)

    - March  7, 2008 - 3 comments
    Sitting here, listening to Beefheart wailing songs of love ... the Captain being mellow for once ... and he sings, 'and my head is my only house unless it rains ...'. Now Nina picks up with Sunday in Savannah ... coffee brewing and a film to watch in a little while. The life of the modern hermit. After a busy frantic stress-filled week ... what could be finer. Coffee, jazz and chill-out. A little remixed samba picks up the mood ... sends my thoughts cartwheeling through memories of Brazil, ca…

  • Night Visitors

    - February 11, 2008 - 9 comments
    THE TWINS 27-3-04 ... letter to B   It begins with a dream …   I am walking arm-in-arm with a delightful woman, laughing and joking, totally relaxed. I don’t know, we have probably just been somewhere clubby and we are high and free and up there on life. We arrive at a caravan and the door is slightly open, enough to display a pair of fairly loud Dalmatian stilettos. They make me smile … , ‘Nice shoes*’, I murmur into my companion’s ear. She says, and I hear this , ‘Oh, they are…

23 articles in total