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Monday, 27 February 2012

THE SIGHT PASSING



twisted tree
of stunted growth
perchance your roots
did delve too far
what strange waters
did they reach
in search of knowledge
dark and deep ?

:::::::::::::::::::::

what sight mine
or sense did keep
such cloven tongue
and madness deep ?

::::::::::::::::

for the fool that claims
to envy me
lives , and breathes
mistakenly

:::::::::::

and of my word
you seek to profit
knowing neither truth , nor lie
and so , what of it ?


d w storer

Tintern Abbey











































Tintern Abbey (WelshAbaty Tyndyrn) was founded by Walter de Clare, Lord of Chepstow, on 9 May 1131. It is situated in the village of Tintern, on the Welsh bank of the River Wye in Monmouthshire, which forms the border between Monmouthshire in Wales and Gloucestershire in England. It was only the secondCistercian foundation in Britain, and the first in Wales. It inspired William Wordsworth's poem Lines Composed a Few Miles above Tintern Abbey,Alfred, Lord Tennyson's poem Tears, Idle TearsWales Visitation by Allen Ginsberg and more than one painting by J. M. W. Turner. The village of Tinternadjoins the abbey ruins which are Grade I listed as of 29 September 2000

Greetings , having returned from a break in Bristol where my wife  Sarah and I were looked after wonderfully well by our friends Lee and Ali Bevan  . In particular they wanted me to see two places , although I must thank them for all the sights they showed us were so remarkable in comparison to where we currently reside that we have decided to relocate to Bristol . 

The first , Tintern Abbey , shown above in the photographs held some surprises of which I shall now write at least in part .

As you can see from the pictures and the small note above , the Cistercian Abbey is of an age ...one that does make me especially wonder of what might occur with a longer visit . The possibility of staying there for a few days might well become more than just a thought in the future , and this is something I would welcome greatly . 

What then did I experience , within the precincts of the ruins ?  Betimes cliches are hard to avoid , and though an attempt will be made here not to make use of them you will need to forgive me if one or two appear . 

A feeling of pressure within my ears came as I stepped onto its grounds , and although it was a cold day the weather was not sufficient to cause such a thing .   I can only liken it to the feeling one gets within the cabin of an aircraft . Stranger still , some may think , was the fact that this did not cease until we left the ground. Notably within a second or so of this sensation I saw , and this was repeated in three separate locations within the Abbey , a shape that seemed reminiscent of its arched windows that seemed to consist entirely of a white or silvered light and appeared to be aware of my presence albeit the feeling was that it was somewhat disdainful of my being there . Whether this was how it felt about visitors in general , or not as the case may be , is impossible to tell for despite several attempts to engage in some form of dialogue no responses were forthcoming . 

Time presses , and so with my apologies I must end this post with a promise to add to it as time allows . More will follow , as soon as time allows . 

My thanks to you for coming here , whether from near or far , new friend or old . 

May your Gods , whoever they may be , 
Walk beside you always 

D W Storer


Thursday, 16 February 2012

FROM " THE RECUSANT WHO NEVER RECANTED"


Greetings to all, 
new friends and old
******
An extract from 'The Recusant Who Never Recanted' 



The Tower

All above is darkness
No star here ever seen 
No path but that which leads below
Onwards , downwards
Endless stair
Choked by those who wait
Silent , and immobile 

       The Child has found himself atop a tower . 'Tis cold enough for frost to have formed on its surfaces , and the air has a leaden quality to it that is strangely familiar . Above , the sky is devoid of even the merest hint of a star and the darkness seems infectious . Nothing can be seen , no matter where he turns his head , excepting within his immediate vicinity for the very stones of which the tower be constructed from exude a faint grey light which is reminiscent of a fog . 
      Peering out over the edge of the tower offers no clues as to his location , for though it can be seen that his perch be of some considerable height no more than that can be surmised under such conditions . The boy , however , loses interest in the question of where he is and replaces it with the newer , more pressing , one of how will he depart ?  And herein begins his nightmare , if that indeed be what it is , for he has noticed a square hole in the floor down from which stairs descend . 'Tis not this discovery that ails him so , rather 'tis the sight of what awaits him there .

My world
'Tis best viewed from afar 
Beyond its shadowed vales
If light dared from but a single star
'Twould reveal our Souls
So pale
****


May your Gods , whoever they may be ,
Walk beside you always

D W Storer