Poem Hunting - Falkland - 11/10/13

(a poem hunt with my mum!)

Paths laden with possibility,
Hidden trail - leading where?!!
To deer and to mystery
Travel on fox-feet
So many secrets here all around...
Trampling through fallen leaves
Acorns awaiting their destiny
Where are we going? Where have we been?
Over stumps and bracken,
Into mystery of mind.
Crunch, crunch, crunch,
go our footsteps,
In search of skeletons.
Burrow - hidden secrets inside
Dry riverbeds reveal mushrooms
Peer deeply to see
Blocked paths - which way to go?
We follow our instincts
to find our way.

(c) 2013

Superhero Me

Surging with power, I exist
Untouched by fear or angst
Purposeful in every action
Epic journeys my daily routine
Realisation of all dreams an effortless feat
Healing and creativity, my secret weapons
Every step would lead only to greatness
Rebellion and empowerment my lasting legacy
'Occupy everything' my battle call

My nemeses would be easily obliterated
Each time I wear my hero's cape

(c) Caren Gilbert

Art of Mentoring

Blessings of community,

and the first falls prey to the land.

Why am I here?

Surrender to intention
Belong to the future
Expand to limitations
Open up to knowledge of self
Awaken ancestral wisdom,
from the unknown, unnamed place.

A burst of change to maintain our aliveness.

Learn to talk to trees,

and never forget how.
Meet yourself and learn to be alone.
Wait for things,
until you become present and peaceful.

Always leave a trail.

Hold time in your hand,

be the steward of yourself.

Find fantasy in the land,

and in your imagination.
Ignite passion with curiosity.
Cultivate aliveness to make peace in the world,
and your inner self.

Dragon bark and tree splinters nestle,

in myriad of bird green and water song.
 
The brave explore barefoot;
I do not.
I am neither barefoot, nor brave
 – yet.

I lay entranced by breeze and babble,

And footsteps of invisible ancestors.

And I ask;

Why am I here?

(c) Caren Gilbert

Poem Hunting - Falkland - 13/07/13 (solo)

Time loses itself
amongst ancient trees,
the manicured disorder of newly tended grass
where buttercups wait patiently.
Land takes on new form and
the wind discovers new channels
through which to weave its stories,
caressing my ears with whispered promises
of the secrets of life.

The upside down tree, branches sunk far beneath me,
a reminder of the energy out of sight,
forgotten in the rush of every day.

A pause to connect and let sparks ignite,
buzzard-song reminders of a forgotten dance,
echoes of a rhythm stirred in the stopping,
seeds sown in each movement.
Babble and hoot guide the journey;
spiral, circle, arch, twist, entwine, channel, sweep,
explore, torrent...

Seek the depths.

Create community, entangle purpose, reflect,
find beauty,
contemplate.
Step boldly into the unknown,
get lost in its embrace.
Gather, inspire, discover, invite immersion,
roar, return.

Encourage joyful industry, float.
Look inward and outward in equal measure.
Collect, let anger flow.

Disrupt destruction.

(c) Caren Gilbert

Poem Hunting - Falkland - 25/05/13

We stalk silence
with heavy feet
in wooded dells
where deer feast
between queued trees,
ordered rows sublime.
Silence is splintered
by misplaced feet
and bounding dogs.

A sense of belonging
among the trees,
spirits of nature
calling us deeper.
Weeping eyes watch,
tears bring us home.
Bird and tree-song,
name whispering leaves.
Squirrels furtive, unseen!
Reality evades view
           Hide and Seek.

(c) 2013

Poem Hunting - Lomond Hills - 25/5/13

An unrequited competition,
chasing silent shadows.
Cattle grazing unworriedly,
mystery bird perching,
straining our eyes;
revealing the unseen
beyond our lenses.
Reluctant poem hunter
words trapped inside,
birth is awaited.

Upon rocky crags,
tripping over syllables
stumbling across truth
~stories in silence~
Elusive murmur afar,
tightly curled fiddleheads
whispering to themselves.
Secrets stolen on treacherous breezes,
skittering stones underfoot.
The wanderers return.

(c) 2013

Poem Hunting - Falkland - 21/05/13

Weary trees, fallen,
sleeping in moss,
worries set free.
A peaceful slumber
of nature's making.
The bee's song
amongst green hues
and euphoric birdsong
calling spirit forth
to dance in silent spaces.