The Oken Stone Podcast
Poems, stories and thoughts from Galloway, Scotland.
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Geology
Walking, I passed between stones
unnoticed leaving left and right
divided by geography.
An accident of place or time?
It wasn't clear but crystalline.
My hemispheres are cut through.
Thought is hard and ordered,
slow; blood seems
an unnecessary fluid,
heart beats a series
of shocks across
tectonic continents of skin.
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The Oken Stone Podcast
Keeping Time - four poems from dreams
These poems were written in response to some dreams that all happened in the same week. Some of the dreams were waking dreams or reveries experienced in odd circumstances, some were compelling enough to wake me up at night.
I love having dreams, it seems to me that the unconscious state is such a vital part of our lives and we can learn so much about ourselves by paying attention to what is being offered at these times. You may or may not agree with psycho-analytical or spiritual interpretations of dreams, but it is fairly certain that they embody a part of us that is different from our conscious mind. I would like to know more about that part.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Keeping Time
Went to visit,
not the first time,
kept it brief and
supra fiscial;
cut the grass,
raked my brains
remembering or
looking for rememberies
never mine to loose.
Cut the hedge
breath is filled with Cypresus
land of dreams.
Saw where you lay
at the finish of each
cycle
now, the house stands exhausted
waiting
for both of us to leave
I left
the clocks wound to count
the passing of you.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~`
By the Sure
Her hand on his chest
placed
a sentence,
words unheard
in his hurry to digress
from future structures
raced
beside guarded waters
leaving no foot unturned
parted from the path
beneath a burning bridge
outpaced
pursuit imagined
to swim in paranoid waters
whose swerving pull
drowns all ambition
chaste
and washed clean
of all desires save
the one who leaves
here.
~~~~~~~~~~~`
The Hunt
Sewing closed a gutted fish
stuffed and cooked
whilst carrion gorge and bicker
crows and rooks
through soiled darkness come wolves or youth
to hunt packed
grinding their teeth on polished stones
take aback
intention veiled or slumbering
arises
climbs the walls naked and hidden
disguising
the meaning of this day’s closing
angled down
looks upon a distant surface
the world round
curves beneath our soft footed souls
in ambush
day breaks upon the human heart’s
loving touch.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Pudding
After the threshing and crashing
of stones there is
a time to be calmed,
bathed in stillness
without motion
and listen to, harken unto,
hear
the roaring of my heart
held in its bony cage
arterial arms spread wide
grasp the bars and
pant in rhythmic want
the meter or weight
of bewilderment, or what
be wilder meant
whilst the heart leaks
from passion’s gourd
and I am a desert
in the oasis of understanding
or a dessert in the halls of the just.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~`
ar 2025
Thanks very much for listening. Art is an act of generosity and as such is made to be shared.
Keeping Time
Went to visit,
not the first time,
kept it brief and
supra fiscial;
cut the grass,
raked my brains
remembering or
looking for rememberies
never mine to loose.
Cut the hedge
breath is filled with Cypresus
land of dreams.
Saw where you lay
at the finish of each
cycle
now, the house stands exhausted
waiting
for both of us to leave
I left
the clocks wound to count
the passing of you.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~`
By the Sure
Her hand on his chest
placed
a sentence,
words unheard
in his hurry to digress
from future structures
raced
beside guarded waters
leaving no foot unturned
parted from the path
beneath a burning bridge
outpaced
pursuit imagined
to swim in paranoid waters
whose swerving pull
drowns all ambition
chaste
and washed clean
of all desires save
the one who leaves
here.
~~~~~~~~~~~`
The Hunt
Sewing closed a gutted fish
stuffed and cooked
whilst carrion gorge and bicker
crows and rooks
through soiled darkness come wolves or youth
to hunt packed
grinding their teeth on polished stones
take aback
intention veiled or slumbering
arises
climbs the walls naked and hidden
disguising
the meaning of this day’s closing
angled down
looks upon a distant surface
the world round
curves beneath our soft footed souls
in ambush
day breaks upon the human heart’s
loving touch.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Pudding
After the threshing and crashing
of stones there is
a time to be calmed,
bathed in stillness
without motion
and listen to, harken unto,
hear
the roaring of my heart
held in its bony cage
arterial arms spread wide
grasp the bars and
pant in rhythmic want
the meter or weight
of bewilderment, or what
be wilder meant
whilst the heart leaks
from passion’s gourd
and I am a desert
in the oasis of understanding
or a dessert in the halls of the just.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~`
ar 2025