Tastings in the Tinglewoods

In the bearings of the beautiful

Lingerings of the light

In my tastings in the tinglewoods

Ripe rimmings fire red

In the rivers writing wreaths of things  

Circles of my soul

In those were further wings within

Soft spinnings burnt and bled            

In the playings of the plentiful

Weavings of the willow

In my graspings in the tangible

Swift singings glad and bold

Many cornered are my pathways

Calling the melodic

In those were fillings up inside

Fed runnings hid within

In the leavings letting go awhile

Spillings of my will

In my surgings in the sounds of things

Bright learnings rippling through

The Ragged Writings of Everland

A green leaf . . .

Hard ripped from a bent twig

Yet sent flying

A rose bud . . .

Cruel plucked from a thorn bush

And taken deeper

My soul untouched is safe . . .

But that is not what it was created for

                                                                   

A Ring of Love: an Extract from an Epic Poem

     The poem, A Ring of Love, is an extract from a much larger work, IN THE PATHS OF MYRDDIN WYLLT . . . a 9,400 word epic poem concerning the sixth century legendary Welsh bard and poet, Myrddin Wyllt; a forerunner of the famous Merlin of the medieval legends of King Arthur. More on this later! But the unpublished manuscript of this epic poem is available to those who would like to read it. (Contact author and request via email: 

 arielaevans@gmail.com ) 

      To reach out, to give beautiful words new every day from the inner wells, was my longing...words through an inner fullness speaking light. The outflow of living waters from the midst of me was unending; and I longed to share from out of the treasures of my experience the living truth which fires the creativity in my life. There was just so much to share. So much to tell of the beginnings of Amethyst Poetry. But before I could begin to unravel further the saga of my writing life, the following came, written today . . . 

Veiled Realms of Swiftlight 

Out of the things which were first, the greater part of purple palaces

Inner castles graced with ivory towers and the amaranth within

The amethyst flowerets mystic pale with milky light 

All fused with royal red and blue

Casting from the windows of my sight

The firstling things I have within

To speak instead in silent gems of the veiled realms of swiftlight

Of the breaking parts of faith that slowly fill with love and unravel here

Out of the things which were second, the amaranthine tumbling spires

From which my inner-writing banners flew

Out from my highest tower, my hooded tercel tossed skyward

Flung from a soft gloved hand

Set free to gather its beloved prey, and return to me the longed for news 

That, from afar they would hear and in that oneness promised

Draw near and I would know that from today 
I was not alone

Amethyst Poetry

     Sometimes, truth, too hard to be said in one way, will find another way to express itself; love never ceases to translate its fiery gems. Sometimes beauty, too piercing to be conceived in its raw state, will come to us clothed in complexity that we might be able to bear it; even appearing in a form we might naturally resist in order to protect itself from being too easily seen. The interior of love too wonderful by far to be perceived by any proud eye, its secrets were the portion of the pure in heart. As the ennobling fires of beauty and truth wait to be welcomed of the poor in spirit, so the shining amaranthine gems of Amethyst Poetry are poised here, their truth and beauty hidden, yet waiting to be discovered. All gifts of love to all who read...shine through the amaranthine rocks Amethyst Poetry . . .