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Breakspear
Breakspear
Tall Tales, short stories, smart-alec poetry. Escape the dungeon with me!
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Recent posts

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Dusken Cypress

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Dusken gloom,
gloaming a-glimmer
with cold light,
silhouetting the cypress.
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Highveld Mist

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Winter-bare trees claw the sky.
The mist is deaf to their cry.
Moisture and life in the air,
But less to the roots, down there.

Highveld mist, a mysterious thing,
That heralds the onset of spring,
Is less like the Europe I know
and more of the Home I did know.
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September 2003

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Golden autumn sunlight
On a day of bright heat,
contradicts the dark-blue sky.
Still-green trees, their leaves
flecked with later gold,
cast darker shadows 
than the sun can warm.

Caterpillars hang like ornaments
by threads of their own making;
At night the spiders come,
huge, unpleasant walking.
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Sarah's Poppy

Sarah de Nordwall

A late poppy blooms
Unselfconsciously beautiful, blessing, pure
Sarah saw, and snapped
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The Breakthrough

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Somewhere,
a tall, dark stone wall
has cracked!
Starlight and air 
can drift through, into
the unimaginable darkness within.

Filth, stench, funk and black dust
fill the cold, dark space behind that grim, demon-carved
Idol's wall.
Now exposed
to the antiseptic touch of fresh air,
the Vileness within cannot abide.

The boil has been lanced.
Now healing can happen.
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An der Untergang des Abendlandes

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Let us ponder the weight of incompetent decision,
Altering the fortunes of too many of us,
Seeding our minds with fear, doubt and fuss,
Smearing our opponents with evil or derision.
The temptations of power, its fatal incision,
Twisting minds with oligarch lust,
Raising high a standard of ash and dust
Over souls who heed the lying vision.
 
I will not heed your propaganda tapes,
My mind is yet my own to rule.
I detest the commands of progressive apes
Whose foam-flecked shrieks call me a fool.
I see the abyss that before your ‘progress’ gapes!
Though I may break, I am not your tool!

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Winter Days

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Winter Days,
brief, dull time
of less darkness.
Trees brush the grey 
with bristles black,
scouring sympathy from the sky.
Lights in windows give comfort - 
though cold the world be,
where Home is,
is rest, warmth, family.
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The joys of parenthood


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‘I’m bored!’, ‘I’m hungry!’ the voices once came
When young ones are younger, the problems remain
Easy to solve, to parse and discern,
Easy to remedy, so peace can return.
 
‘I’m fat and I’m ugly!’, ‘I’ll never get a job!’
When young ones are older, the woes they sob
Are so much more urgent, so woefully deep,
It’s no wonder all of us get little sleep! 
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Summer Rains



The heart still sings even when it rains
Heaven’s blessings wash away the dust
Our broken minds knot too may pains
Our crude works always subject to rust.
 
Even good weather can be too much of ‘good’,
Understanding has too few measures of gain.
When opposites moderate each other, it is good.
Showing the joys of life anew again.
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A Meditation on Aging Parents

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This fact I hold up before me - 
we are all flowers of the field.
What once was strong and enduring
must one day pass away.

Time brings little deaths,
minor infirmities,
adding up year on year - 
have I not felt it?

We are all creations of a moment:
Growing, blooming, fruiting, falling...
but I find this surprise in myself - 
Why does it not cause despair?

It should! If my sum total
adds only to that enjoyed by others,
I should rail against
such gross injustice!

But my hear has been given 
to One who makes sense.
I see, beyond time,
that one day all will be made anew.

Anew, and no longer awry.
With wrong burnt out
in purgation, with evil
washed away in Blood.

And only goodness and worth,
glory and dignity remaining.
Such as we have allowed,
created by our assent to goodness.

Come quick, no time to lose!
Each day brings opportunities for love.
Treasures to be stored up for later,
where rust and moth work not.

Unspeakable gift made possible
by unspeakable sacrifice
of the only One who could make it:
glory in despite of darkness.

Though the fruit has fallen,
and the leaves are turning,
all that is of worth
is recorded, to be played again some Day,

When halleluias ring harmonies
in beauty and sweetness,
in sunshine on leaves,
in smiles on fair faces.

Made possible by Love.
And our love, given freely,
only adding to the harmony:
The Glorious Symphony of All That Has Being!
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Haiku 3

Shutterestock

Gloaming summer evening, growing dark
Cooling summer clouds, promising cleansing benedictions
My heart longs for the water, Heaven’s blessing. 
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A Light in the Darkness

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A star shines down on my prison pit
And more than just a star!
A pure, virginal, platinum gleam
of undiluted Love.

Such Light makes a lie of darkness.
When horror and sorrow insist, ' This is all there is!'

The Star quietly contradicts. While light exists,
no darkness can put it out.
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Haiku 2


The spring is cold and bright this year, I find
Expected comfort has not come, my world and life, the two
Have darkened, even as life quickens around.
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Lockdowns


Remember last spring? Two weeks they said,
Just to flatten the curve.
Well, it's been a year, no millions dead,
and still they test our nerve.

Fear fatigue, perhaps it is,
That stops us from toeing the line.
The more they freak, the harder it is
To maintain the oligarch's line.

If lies, manipulation, serve not to cow
Our spirits, nor stunt our vaunt,
What else might they, parasites now,
Do to maintain our daunt?

'More is coming', the warning they give,
A third and fourth wave's coming in.
Let it come! I say, I stand yet and live,
I trust not your Narrative's spin.

One lesson I've taken, two I've discerned
From all this incompetent shower.
That for all of your brains, your sway and your lies,
Over me - you have no power!
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Heart

Shutterstock.com

Hearing my name
called by my own people's voices
proves my place in the world, more
it shows I matter to others.

Hearts' bonds are strong,
and in the end, all we have.
Our presence perpetuated 
down the years.

New lives created in love, only 
extends the goodness.
Be thankful to those who join themselves to you,
Remember and gather in others with no ties of their own.
Remember goodness feeds growth, the only proof
against growing darkness and cold...
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Escape

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When Lies and Halftruth rule the land,
And Truth's persecution is close at hand,
One fact is forcefully hammered home:
This world is not, never was, your home.

My heart and mind can yet roam free
To other worlds, where I yet see
A victory for the side of Truth,
A tale believed in my storied youth.

To worlds of wonder, where Elves yet dwell:
Their wisdom and their sorrow tell,
And long years' thought, both Heart and Head,
Lay open for those who came and read.

A thousand years of hard-won lore,
Now present-day Orcs would make no more!
I cannot abide the face of hate,
Clothed in garb of history's fate.

Modern-day Orcs come preaching inclusion,
While threatening us with permanent exclusion.
I will not join their downward race,
I seek a mirror for their gorgon's face!

And if they mock, denounce, condemn,
I know for sure I've escaped them!
No jail for us, the Bards and me,
For now, they're caught, we now are free!
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Adversity



I can only bloom where I’m planted.
The days of up and leaving are gone.
My new hope, growing,
Must contend with hostility
From many sides.
 
How difficult it is, at times
Maintaining Hope while Logic screams defeat.
Yet, here I am, putting forth 
What I am, though it seems futile.
 
We are called to be faithful, not successful.
 
I can but be, no more. 
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The peasants are revolting!

Shutterstock

When the ship of our world is clearly going to Hell
And self-styled Controllers knowingly damn, thinking we are the cushion:
Our path is clear - to wreck that blasted vessel!
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Winter is ending!


What hope springs
from swelling tips of twigs!
What defiance is strutted
by thrusting spears of daffodils!

Resurrection signs
showing life's small steps,
beginning again
from ashes of purification.
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Dark Tidings


Hell has still not won this day
Though evil ascendant has all the voice, for now;
And we small people know not how
The story ends, in one or other way.
Though witless, vapid mouths might say
What they wish, sure to make us bow
To their idols, their sacred cow,
Consuming our young, if they have their way.

The war goes on, will we or no,
And final victory is a certain thing.
Our trust must not to Power go,
But to Him to Whom the angels sing.
Has Satan won? It is not so!
A battle lost, but let our challenge RING!
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Walking the ruins


How strange are the Ways
How dark my thoughts

My way littered with shards of heartbreak,
shreds of ragged dreams
billow, aimless.
Rubbish? Raw material?
Dross or fine gold?
It could go either way.

But while I look
and wonder,
following less instinct than inspirations,
Purpose unfolds,
Smilingly.
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We are walking on the shores of Heaven

This came as a prompt: 'We are walking on the shores of Heaven'

We walk upon the shores of heaven,
Crystal clear the aquamarine tide,
While above the mewling gulls
Swiftly on the breezes ride.

Far beyond the Dawn's bright glory,
On our hands His brightness gleams,
While the soothing sussuration
Of the water's foaming streams

Washes clear our souls' dire burden,
Of our broken, evil ways.
That we, clear and whole and hearty
Might accompany all His days!
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Early Morning

Shutterstock
Silver grey on pale blue:
marbled morning sky!
Glowing promise,
potential, expectations,
greatness yet to germinate.
How beautiful mornings are!
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