by Steve Tanham
The heat, it must have been the heat That teased and turned my steps That stepped a different thrust and beat A moan of limbs on fire where once were feet. The green, it must have been the green That cooled me in a light I’d never drunk That drank me in a way that drew a sigh Surrendering to what – before, I … Read More Green Fingers
by Steve Tanham
Rotating hopeAs a Captain in a blackened stormScans a ravaged horizonTo find rotating hope- Not only where but who;The ship, by edge of darknessLocates the world beyond the seaSo we, with storm and prayerScanning signs of inner lifeFind voyage in a pulsing lightA presence: there, then goneReturning if we will but stare,And hoping, count the circles©Stephen Tanham 2021 ©Stephen Tanham 2021 Stephen Tanham is … Read More Rotating Hope
by Steve Tanham
When days roll, heavy hearted, by And dusk has turned a darker hue Where breathing’s choked and not so free I rest my back on bark of old ash tree And whisper words into electric blue Discovering solace in the sky ©Stephen Tanham Stephen Tanham is a Director of the Silent Eye, a journey through the forest of personality to the dawn of Being.
by Steve Tanham
And tomorrow we will gather Within this garden country, rich with life To gaze, inside, upon your memories And tell stories of your laughing fullness ➰ Outside our garden guest-house I found this quiet group Of faded, used-out artefact Held close in tulips’ embrace The whole, sun-wrapped And I thought of you. ➰ ©Stephen Tanham Stephen Tanham is a Director of the Silent Eye, … Read More And tomorrow…
by Steve Tanham
When I am old and grey, and Father Time has had his wretched way with all the bits that move no more… I will live in a simple dwelling like this top floor, with endless sea beyond the veranda’s edge, and mountains to the other side, behind the cluttered bookshelf that used to be a windowsill. And Mags will feed me, not because she … Read More Old and grey, and Father Time
+ #Silenti, Consciousness, guided mystical walks, Higher Mind, Mystery Schools, Photography, Places and Prose, Poetry, Scotland
by Steve Tanham
I remember listening to T. S. Eliot reading his poem The Four Quartets for the first time. The words held me spellbound: “We shall not cease from exploration And the end of all our exploring Will be to arrive where we started And know the place for the first time.” My wife and I had first travelled to Inverness four years ago, we came … Read More Two journeys, one destination
by Steve Tanham
Sometimes there is a kind of poetry in the arrangement of objects in a landscape, not seen, fully, before the finger presses them into personal history. The symmetry, the visual song, is seen later, as here with ancient rocks, weathered and waiting; the out at sea lighthouse; and the distant volcanic dome, worn down into a bullet by millennia. The arrangement is not created, … Read More #ShortWrytz : three things
by Steve Tanham
We sat, in end of day repose To speak of evenings drawing cold And grass with moisture in its folds And share our wine with crows ➰ One, bolder than the rest Climbed high, as if to rise and reach A silver phantom, caught in sun’s Descending rays out of the west ➰ Within the moment’s crest and hiss What thoughts, I wondered, passed … Read More Wine with Crows
by Steve Tanham
I am crow, on summer’s breeze Glimpsed in love with beating wings Within the bright sun’s leaving. ➰ My feathers’ strong and hollow shafts Are filled with air you breathe And softly lit in our reflected passion. ➰ Remember this when dark and sodden bird Looks out, short day’d from tree of Ash Asking nothing of your walk of logs to fire. ➰ Raise … Read More Crow on a Summer Breeze
by Steve Tanham
Will I layer my data, uniform, Till that obedient plateau Where the arranged and ruling desktop stamps me ‘passed’, no threat Or Shine and gripe, outrageously Refuse to corner, close or fit Until a newborn’s bloody fingers Stain the pallettes Of billionaires’ mahogany ©Stephen Tanham, 2020
by Steve Tanham
And then one day there will unfold Before delighted gaze A purple ring where thickest mud Had tempered walks on winter days ⦿ Where sliding boots had struggled To cross the sodden land Our eyes now look with wonder To gaze on colour’s gentle hand ⦿ Time and tide’s persistence Their essence of ascent From sodden bulb to flower’s joy A hidden rite of … Read More Unfolding Lilac
by Steve Tanham
You took us to your window To see the cliffs of dawn Across the miles they shone like sheets Hung on a washing line We knew, you said, beyond the chalk On scribbled boards you waited And prayed that you were searching, too For those who searched for you… ©Stephen Tanham
Sun in Gemini 
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