Make My Proof

It’s the aimlessness really

That lack of purpose in the gaps

Certainly no divinity defined

Could ever take my doubting mind

PROVE IT! I scream inside

Whilst the universal pen





Straddling the agnostical fence

I wait for someone on a horse

To come pass me an apocalyptic scroll

With a giant box of crayons thrown in for fun

I can doodle in the margins

Illustrating such nonsense

With my own style of hieroglyph

A faint scent of apples

And a hiss



Copyright October 2014


 willow clip art

He watches entranced

As she dances oblivious

This willowy goddess

In the afternoon sun

She teases with tree-song

Peeks out through the branches

Her sun tinged tresses

Flow long in the breeze

In the morning they come

Armed with great axes

Build a willowy temple

To worship the goddess

He wanders inside

But no one is dancing

The temple is empty

His goddess has died

This poem is based on the Japanese tale, Willow Wife as told by Moyra Caldecott in her book, Myths of The Sacred Trees.


In the story a man falls in love with the Goddess of the Willow. The Emperor orders the Willow tree to be cut down and a Temple to the Willow Goddess to be erected, using the wood. In the process the Goddess is killed, the man loses his love and the Temple remains an empty edifice to man’s stupidity.

Poem Copyright September 2014




willow clip art