I haven't disappeared, completely!

I haven't disappeared completely!  I have been busy working on other writing projects...plus we have had a busy time in January with lots of family visiting and various events happening...and in New Zealand it is our summer holiday time here...and things are more relaxed. I have enjoyed reading a few fascinating books on the pale blue sofa on our matching blue verandah...immersed in the warmth of summer skies and the serenading of the cicadas...they are almost deafening at times here! 

 I have been revising a book which I originally wrote in 2011....LITTLE BOOK.  A book not of this world, and therefore incomprehensible to it. 

 I live a lonely life writing books no one wants to read! But I am accustomed to being invisible and I am anything but lonely inside...within me, my life is full to the brim! ...and overflowing with love and joy and excitement in being an integral part of the work and purpose of God in the Earth.

 I am learning to move across the boundaries and share the Light I am given of him...and in new and exciting ways that people in the world can easily understand.

 (I will continue the book about books....A BOOK IS LIKE A SACRED ISLE....but I am having a break from it for awhile.)  

Story: 5. ) Shipboard Reading / from A BOOK IS LIKE A SACRED ISLE: A Rain of Booklight; A book about books

 Shipboard Reading    

   Shipboard reading was sparsely spread between shipboard chores; there was always so much to be done and there were few spaces left in the day for ‘doing nothing;’ (which is what reading was considered to be during our days at anchor in the little coves and bays of the islands of the seas.) Of course, one occasionally read the pilot books – seamen’s instruction books concerning the waters one sailed in – if one didn’t want to be shipwrecked, that is! But when there was time in the evening and kerosene to spare I could fill the cabin’s gimbaled lamps and read and escape.  With no engine, no battery, no electronics, on board our tiny ocean going sailing yacht, there was no power, of course for books in dimensions other than paper and cardboard. And we were none the worse for it; except when we were shipwrecked off the Sahara Desert – (we hadn't read the pilot book for that area!) – for we couldn’t contact anyone to come and rescue us!
   But in easy going days when we were at sea I could sometimes tie up the tiller, get her self-steering by the set of her sails, and bring out a book and read to my heart’s content in daylight hours – with one eye open, for a look out at the ocean ahead, of course. You never knew what might be there: a basking shark, a whale, a ship, or another yacht; (or the Sahara Desert!)  Lying in the sun listening to the song of the sea creaming past us, the reflecting water, glinting its own story of the sky, the skimming fulmars and shearwaters the near-land cry of the wheeling seagulls, I could read and dream and not get seasick. Wonderful books were read this way! Their excellent worth made evident; for they quickly bore a much-loved look; caught by the sea spray when we crashed into a wave they flew off the cockpit seat into the scuppers and got wet. But, unlike electronic books, (except those in watertight cases, I suppose?) they survived the ordeal and lived to see another day at sea decorating our shipboard bookshelf, which told a tale in itself, of who we were and how we lived, and what we liked.
   Shipboard reading was great! An escape upon escape! 

 

                                                                  *

A Book is like a Golden Circlet

A book is like a golden circlet . . . 

   round my head it lays its story firm

A protective halo, for awhile:

   it takes me deep away

Takes this mind it captivates 

   to an inner world, 

A sanctuary hid from pressing ills, 

   in outside forms of life; 

A surrogate life, till I rise up again, 

Take responsibilities reins,

   live life better for having left it awhile 

         

   

Poem from a Sequence:

A Rain of Booklight
Part 1  # 28

© Judith Evans Deverell, 2014

The Bookmark Project

A Book is like a hopeful Rainbow

A book is like a hopeful rainbow 

I take a turn and look around

And there a promise arc 

Of sudden colour:  . . .

Hope falling by me 

Through its gifted pages

Holding light for me 

As though through fire in rain

Its spirit streams are in 

Seven colours split

Its story, message, 

Its hope-filled teachings

All prismed light 

Caught alive in me:  . . .

Since first I glimpsed 

Its intriguing cover 

Quickly guessed in me 

Its depth, of hidden promise  

Poem from a Sequence:

A Rain of Booklight
Part 1  # 23

© Judith M. Evans Deverell, 2014

The Bookmark Project

A Book is like an Orchard's Dream

  

A book is like an orchard’s dream 

That leads me through the apple boughs

In dryad lines, a springly lilt in dappled light

Full of wisdom-flowers, that bud and blossom

Fresh from its pages ripe with knowledge, for

The heart that hears it lifts to see its fruitful dreams

In light diffused, its turns and whirls in story curls

Divergent words, that in me work in patterned thought

As sunbeams dance, amidst the dreaming apple trees 

  

Poem from a Sequence: 

A Rain of Booklight
Part 1  # 19

© Judith Evans Deverell, 2014

The Bookmark Project

A Book is like a Lighted Candle

A book is like a lighted candle . . .

It casts its inner glow a certain sphere

A certain circle in its inner giving of itself

Its pages turned: its wax consumed

From its bright beginning

It shines unto its end the same

It has no knowledge of where it might abide

Only of the light it shines inside, within its wick 

The truth it finds in me which mirrors it

Poem from a Sequence: 

A Rain of Booklight
Part 1  # 16

(c) Judith Evans Deverell, 2014

The Bookmark Project

(Poetry/ Vol. 1. ) Born of Wrinkle Wrestling

Spiraling Stairs

Spiraling stairs born of wrinkle wrestling

Shiftings sharpen, called of willow fastings

Brought my dry tinder found in mystery’s keeping

And furrowed far the onward pull

In every star’s wisting

Lifting patterns born of dark-light banishings  

Sightings quicken called of slender declinings

 Lit my inner fire found in farlight’s curbing

And deeply ploughed the forward draw

 In every angle’s knowing

But why the enmeshing and entangling of lines

Why wrap the releasing light in spider’s webs

Put in harboured nests the unfathomed quest

Why, lest they see, and in seeing take the spoil

Lest they think they know, and in knowing fall 

And falling find in loss their quest’s own behest

(Poetry/ Vol. 1. ) One Single Dot of Seeding Earth

Metamorphosis

One single dot of seeding Earth

One thought which brings another

And from the underside of the written page

[EGG]

What was on it hatches out

One worm, one active creative idea

Which crawling through, brings another with it

[CATERPILLAR]

What was there ties me up and ravells

And in my own wormy thoughts

I spin my own darkness 

[CHRYSALIS]

I wrestle in the strengthening dark

Given to form me there, where I fight to turn

And of my own dark I am born anew

[BUTTERFLY]

I am made a new sharp threshing instrument

Having teeth; I fly; I eat, I scatter

Old threads of darkness to the four winds

[AIRBORNE]

I fuse with Love; I lay my dots of Heaven                               

On the underside of the written page

Where hid things are

Baring secrets waiting to be born

[REPRODUCTION]

I am fragile, I fall to Earth

My wings were made of light

My heart of deepest destiny

That in death I live 

[DUST TO DUST]

I rise again, no spot or dot

No wrinkled thought-cases for wormy content

And mine by grace, things which are not

To bring to nought things that are

[ASHES TO ASHES]

Eight are left me . . .

For of Love, eight were given me . . . 

[ LIFE! ]

(Poetry/ Vol. 1. ) Star Finder

(from THE RAGGED WRITINGS OF EVERLAND: Volume One)



Far Finder

Far finder, star finder, pulsar of hope

Rainbows of hard beams

In a star-baby’s stone

Rubies in crystallite all pourings through

Bringing me far-rope

To tie me to you

Far finder, star finder, shedder of light

Cradles of fair worlds

In a little one’s sight

Callings in distant beams all shooting down

Bringing me farlight

To find me in you

           

When will we see you, when will you come?            

When will your little ones

Finally run?                         

When they have farlight all filled up to the brim               

And no more let heart light

Through timidity dim

Phases of the Moon

I watch, and the candle’s flame leaps higher   

Coming near awhile and flooding all with light

Then in decline, a sliding down and it drops away

And I wonder if I ever did see it

I know, and the mist’s unveiling parts me further

And there’s a greater understanding lasting longer

Then in decline, a sliding down and it drifts away

And I wonder if I ever did perceive it

I listen, and the wind’s song knows me deeper

Coming near awhile and filling all with joy

Then in decline, a sliding down and it slips away

And I wonder if I ever did hear it

I speak, and the sea’s power surges nearer

There’s a greater understanding, a meaning more

Then in decline, a sliding down and it falls away

And I wonder if I ever did say it

I love, and find Everland’s comfort holds me firmer

Coming near awhile and pouring oil in peace

Then amazed, I see it was all the phases of the moon

And I wonder if I ever did doubt it

Through 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 truth 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 seamless 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

Gift of Four

Four hid stones in a stream

Incandescent pebbles 

Small round and smooth

Shining there fire bright

Four hid feathers in the air

Little sharp quills

Brave and beautiful

Twirling there very light

Four cornered shafts all found in my middle

Stony weights and feathered burdens first

Yet freed in uplifts both come weaving through

Till bathed in lit-life winged sight they give me

Love in delight in patience born of peace 

These four all a perfect portion form

When drawn of light I am drowned in life

And left shining there . . . underneath. 

I Turned the Page . . .

I turned the page and there before me an open door

Untainted more and more, the more I turned

Fresh velvet violets in sweet scented pools

The light revealed there

And forests further in, where I followed in further

I faced the page and there before me an open space

Unsealed more and more the harder I searched

Swift silver swallows in fast flighted wells

The glimpse concealed there   

And Everland beyond, where I walked in beyond

I read the page and there before me an open mind

Unfastened more and more the faster I went

Wisps and willows in long languid streams

The love outpoured there

And Heart’s Ease within, where I within I went

I held to the page and there before me an open heart

Overt more and more the surer I was

Vast treasured truths in kind captured books   

The distance travelled there

And Kingdoms further in, where I further ventured

I had wanted a gem and there before me an open bounty

Truth filled, and more and more, the more I ‘died’ there

Hope’s honeyed harvests in sap savoured rivers

And serenity inside, where I bathed in insides

I Followed the Lamb

Where were telling things that took my heart all captive

And the running part that went with cradled dreams

Were the fullest parts the feet that ran the fastest race

The pull of life’s bright flags bringing home the prize?

Where were un-trampled things that went past unseen

And the pleasant paths that went by with tilted grace

Were the heights so scary none would venture further in

The pearls of light the only parts of darkness seen?

Where were un-flattered leaves, curved not trampled

And the underneath bit not bared or paired in cases

Were the counter-turns the rings of the juxtaposed

The drawing paths pulling in the things which go between?

So I walked the rims of every distant covered comet

I followed the lamb whithersoever he went

I left the hold of every safe haven given wandering stars

And in every last question answered, first was I torn apart

Of all the fear that went before none knew the half

Of my tangled tale none knew, seeing only ruin in ramblings

Yet in colours of every shade of green my life inside

Written on a thousand leaves all on one bright emerald

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

Willowed Stream

Not the sound of any hammer could be heard

Silent the truer work of the turning around

The stinging things being made a delight:

The scriptured cache of past mysteries made plain

The well-worn ancient Puzzlebook being deciphered
And unlocked . . .

The whirring of a fan winnowing the harvest

A threshing of knowledge-mountains, beating them small

Making of the hills of outsides – chaff

That only their sacred centers remain

The whirlwind scattering life’s proud knowledge-waves

Single blows, and the roar and rush of the liked part

Her pearls (the not-liked part) silent for they were as two

Yet the prudent few chose instead a hammering of truth

And what they thought was gold

For which they paid a high price and lost the prize

Single blows and our liked parts were all one-sided truth

All a cat’s purr, but grating as the sound of a saw

And the engine-buzz of a busy fly

All fool’s gold and an apple cradled in a broken glass

Only the severed parts of seven and so never the whole

Seeing what seemed to shine in knowledge’s outsides 

The un-golden apple they held to their breast; which

Not being made to hang onto, was as a broken glass

Not whole, not remade it would hold no new wine

If only parts it could hold, never perfect

Their lines they tangled; their slender unfed leaves

Went dangling down and winnowed fell breaking off

The slowings of life in every willowed stream

The clogged up muddles of thinking we knew

Clearing as the running light came sifting through

Would now they dig out their willowed stream

Let the light of life go rushing through them

A cloudburst’s flood to clear every path of inner mud:

Dead skinny leaves, one-sided knowledge bits  

Let it sweep away all their cloggings up

Of things too long held in overcrowded streams