 Guardian of the threshold.
Protector of the kin. Lookout on the vision quest. Silencer of the din. Sentinel of the boundary. Sentry of the edge. Gatekeeper to the woodland floor. Scout upon the hedge. Doctor of alignment. Chiropractor of the spine. Charmer of the cobras. Channel of the divine. Waymarker to the sacred realm. Signpost to the bee. Conductor of the inner fire. God of kundalini. By Simon Blackler Copyright © Simon Blackler 2020 If you care to comment on this poem at all please feel free to do so below.
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 We are the campions, standing tall and straight.
We are the campions, lined up by verge and gate. We are the campions, proud troop upon the view. We are the campions, regimental through and through. We are the campions, flowers of hottest pink. We are the campions, come to make you think. We are the campions, an army of the hedge. We are the campions, urging you to pledge. We are the campions, magenta blooms of beauty. We are the campions, of service and of duty. We are the campions, a legion to unite. We are the campions, in purpose we delight. We are the campions, with petals of cerise. We are the campions, lapels without a crease. We are the campions, a squad of florets shone. We are the campions, root to stem as one. We are the campions, with message to connect. We are the campions, to settle an old debt. We are the campions, a force of greater good. We are the campions, to help you if we could. We are the campions, here throughout the seasons. We are the campions, around for all right reasons. We are the campions, a battalion of your trust. We are the campions, belief in us a must. By Simon Blackler Copyright © Simon Blackler 2020 If you care to comment on this poem at all please feel free to do so below.  There’s a freshness to this place, like which I’ve never seen.
There’s a wind, a breeze, an inkling, lifting veil of life and dream. There’s grass beneath my feet, soft, moist, like never tread. There’s an expectancy apparent, of an existence hanging by a thread. Stood tall, eyes pierced, to horizon, crystal to the view. There’s a nudge from behind me, of a presence unimaginably new. A force that continues pushing, of a creature’s mighty thrust. I look down upon his shoulders, my limbs buckling to his trust. For now I feel him in me, my legs and his are one. Calves strain, muscles, sinew, as in a moment we begin to run. At first I think I’m mounted, riding powerful, masculine beast. But then I see my hoof hit ground, will wonders never cease. My hart begins to pound, animate pulse pumps and quickens. Adrenalin, blood, spirit, coursing vein thickens. My nostrils start to flare, as we power on the charge. I and he as stag, passed bush and gorse we barge. Antler not in evidence, a steed not in his prime. Still development to be made, whether his essence or mine. Suddenly there is nervousness, a palpable, convincing fear. For what is that upon our path, no other than grizzly bear. Such a shock to see him there, immediately it is break. All senses alert and paralysed, as if bitten by a snake. My eyes wide eyed and open now, I’m back upon my bed. What more I wonder of Running Deer, my name whispered to me by the dead. By Simon Blackler Copyright © Simon Blackler 2020 If you care to comment on this poem at all please feel free to do so below. |
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