International Teacher, Author, Painter and Forest Witch Europe Globally
International Teacher, Author, Painter and Forest Witch Europe Globally
International Teacher, Author, Painter and Forest Witch Europe Globally
International Teacher, Author, Painter and Forest Witch Europe Globally
International Teacher, Author, Painter and Forest Witch Europe Globally
International Teacher, Author, Painter and Forest Witch Europe Globally
International Teacher, Author, Painter and Forest Witch Europe Globally
International Teacher, Author, Painter and Forest Witch Europe Globally
International Teacher, Author, Painter and Forest Witch Europe Globally
International Teacher, Author, Painter and Forest Witch Europe Globally
International Teacher, Author, Painter and Forest Witch Europe Globally
International Teacher, Author, Painter and Forest Witch Europe Globally
International Teacher, Author, Painter and Forest Witch Europe Globally
International Teacher, Author, Painter and Forest Witch Europe Globally
International Teacher, Author, Painter and Forest Witch Europe Globally
International Teacher, Author, Painter and Forest Witch Europe Globally
International Teacher, Author, Painter and Forest Witch Europe Globally

POEMS

Every time a poem writes me, I feel I write a love letter to Life by catching these fragile ephemeral moments - Imelda Almqvist

 REINDEER MOTHER

Behind the Darkness// I sense// A living//breathing//tender// Mother

When I was born// She licked me into shape// My hooves found the Earth

In her huge eyes//  I saw Love// I saw reflected the stars// I remembered my journey// I no longer felt homesick

Mother Night, 20 December 2016, Sweden

 

E = MC^2

Einstein’s Equation tells us// E = MC^2// Mass and energy are interchangeable

In death// We leave our body// Just think of this// As an explosion of energy

The Music of the Spheres// Singing us// As the Light calls our name// Calls us home

Physics speaks of// Phase Transitions// Of things being what they always were// In a different stat// Looking differently, behaving differently

If Birth is// Energy becoming mass// Then Death is// Mass converting back to energy// So why do we fear Death// Nothing is ever lost// E = MC^2

The Netherlands, 6 June 2009

 (This poem was read out once at the funeral of a professor of Physics)

THE ANIMAL MOTHERS

Two eyes// two arms// two breasts// She gives Life// She brings Death// That yearning// for Oneness, Unity, Return// Bristly musty armpit// Reindeer fur, animal fury

Antlers// Climbing the Tree of Life to return to The Mother// Isn;t it kinder// to make her two mothers? // One embracing// One devouring// than to face// The Mother// who eats her own children?

Furry, smelly// Dark Maoonna// She brings Desth// She gives Life// Two breasts// two arms// two eyes

Sweden, Winter Solstice 2016

 Shamanic teacher, painter and author in the UK and the world

 

 THE BEGGAR

She has come even to Stockholm// Ice Queen among capitals// In doorways// on streetcorners// outside supermarkets// she sits

The Beggar

Almost no one can bear// to even look at her// as an icicle drips// snow turns to sludge around her

Black ice// dark mirror// of all the times// we were reduced// to shivering beggars// Afraid of losing all// not belonging// being the stranger// other perceive as danger// not invisible but unseen

Do we accept the mirror she holds up?

Stockholm, 19 December 2016

THE PHANTOM PIANO

A phantom piano plays// in a house in the forest

The trees lean in// the Moon rushes to meet the music// An elk munches on stray notes// lychen shifts shape// in the rock art of the Forest// imps and elves dance// And I cry

At a mysterious dream coming true// of playing the piano at midnight// into the crack of time// with only trees for company// and finding the notes// on the forest floor// as vibrant Autumn leaves, the next day

And dancing in the air// as snow flakes another day// sunbeams on Midsummer Eve// I am the phantom// playing the piano...

Karrshagen, Sweden, Winter Solstice 2016 

THE GODDESS OF SOUL

We fear monsters// chase them// slay them// run from them

But// the Goddess of Soul// teaches us// to caress in darkness// to gently run our fingers through fur// to make love// to the Monster

The Other// Not-me// I don't want to know// demonised// antagonised// Beast to our elusive Beauty

Admitted to our embrace// our life, our bed// our love// he sheds his fur// shows his wounds

When we venture// bravely in our psyche// we are met// by the Goddess of Soul// and her lover// our lover

Parking lot of Nykoping Train Station 23/12/2017

 

 

 BRONZE AGE PIANIST

I often muse// at talent gone unexpressed// perhaps lingering in the ether?// A computer genius born in The Stone Age// or a pianist alive in The Bronze Age

There were always drums// cooking pots// hollow bones// whistles, flutes// the human voice

Tuning in// I see the foreshadowing of keyboards// in the stripey shadows cast by trees

The xylophone starting life// as a row of icicles of varying lengths// twinkling and dripping// forerunners of// emails and message notifications pinging in

Pebbles in the fields// churned by snow// fed star light// were the first buttons// a fuse-board for magical thinking// access to other worlds// in the tree-root brain

Those shadow magicians// and pebble wizards// honed their crafts// and bid their time// Like dwarfs// they can be found under rocks today// ready to play

Karrshagen, Boxing Day, 2016

Shamanic teacher, painter and author in the UK and the world

WHEN TIME SHAPE SHIFTS

As we grow older// something happens to Time// It passes faster than ever// A child month lasts an adult day// but also stretches and meanders// in unexpected ways

As I grow older// Time becomes layered// more mysterious// A year fits into a day as easily as day stretches to a year

Hours become portals, wber// I live a year in a day and many years in a night

As I get closer to Death// Time stretches to Infinity// like a mathematical equation// I die many small deaths// and live aeons in a day// I become a child again// adults become insubstantial shadows

Dying mean s// shrinking to infinity// as Time expands

Karrshagen, 28 December 2016

 

Shamanic teacher, painter and author in the UK and the world

 A STORYTELLING

That profound sense// of the Sun standing still// for three days// unnerves the crows// like toddlers on a Sunday morning// They demand the return of movement

I awaken to whispered guidance// to dress as a crow today// and walk the street of London// as the Crow Goddess// shepherding her ten sons// My black flying cape// crowned by a crow's nest// fledglings yelling for worms// So close to my ears// I hear only// what is not spoken// Phosphorescent, Deafening

I wrap my crow's wings// around the Sun// to restore motion, momentum// A crow lands on my head// There are fledglings to be fed -    

  London Summer Solstice 2013 

 

 

 

 NW

The hottest day of the year

Elliott visits the School Fair// returns with his face painted as a skull

Quinn follows him there// requests "monkey tiger money" but brings home none

Brendan says "NW"// it means "nice weather" for humans// but "nasty weather" if you are a polar bear

There is a place in our garden// where you only see trees// A forest that is not

On the hottest day of the year// nothing is quite what it seems// but everything tangos vibrantly  L.  6 July 2013

 Shamanic teacher, painter and author in the UK and the world

 

 SMALL RESIDENT GHOSTS

July enters damply// anonymously// I remind the children// about socks// coats

The family laundry fails to dry// laughs at me// what now?

I arrange the children's tops// over chairs// doors// cupboards and crates

After the school run// I walk into// a house// full of small ghosts

FEATHER WEIGHT

My little boy// picks up a feather// he says a bird left it for him// I say// How can you be sure it was not an angel?// because angel wings look different, he says

He collects those too// He is an expert// He can tell the difference

When small children// hit random notes on a piano// it sounds like music// Angels dance too// dropping feathers

London, 27 September 2009

 NIGHT RIDER

On never-ending summer evenings// when light keeps dreams at bay// he rides his horse in the pink sky// until the Moon rises

He rides to World's End and crosses the rainbow bridge// into worlds beyond the River of Life// He rides up the big tree// where his friends live// Our squirrel hitches a ride to visit his twin

On never-ending winter evenings// when nightmares gallop over roofs// he rides his horse// until the Sun rises

He dances with storms and talks to stars// He helps Granddad plant Eden in the sky// he hums friendly ghosts home

Then he return, parks his horse//  - wooden, tired, sudenly solid - // by his bedroom window// He salutes the Morning Star and falls asleep

The next morning he says: I did not dream

For Brendan, London, 2 July 2013

 

 

SMILING OLDER WOMAN

I have become// The Woman Who Smiles at babies// and newborn mums// Returning the smiles// Older woman gave me// when I had babies// and thought it would last forever

Not so// Fertility is a brief window// Those years do not return// I have earned my teenagers// and my silver hairs

The letterbox clangs//the invitation for my first ever mammogram for older woman is here...

London, 2 November 2016