Creative work from members of SpiralArts

The wind's fresh harvest
A beech carpet of gold leaf
Walking on sunshine. 
                            Dave Home

SPIRALDANCING
“Spiral up and spiral down 
Spiral far and close
Round and round the spirals dance
Entrancing in their flow

Birds ascending freedom find
As water divas play
Sun touched shells, safely curled,
Draw focus into now.

Anchored roots insist on growth
That moves from earth to sky,
Branches spiral into space
As leaves unfurl their smile.

Spiral up and spiral down
Spiral far and close
Round and round the spirals dance
Full centre still in space."

Bryony Williams

SIREN SONG

She sits, like a silver coin in the sky, waiting for me to come . . . . . . . .
And I do.
Her silver-gloved hands slide silently across my eyes, and through her
enchanted fingers I glimpse another world.
Caught in her embrace, her pearly breath steals softly across my face as I listen for the whisper of her voice. . . . . .
The white veil flutters in magnesium air, the water laps the shore, the rhythm of the tides becomes the rhythm of my blood and now, NOW I hear her song !
You hear it too.
A siren’s song, drawing us together as we tread the sheeny cloth she drops
along the jagged path.
Beneath us the land shifts, re -forms, her sharp corners becoming soft and
beautiful.
You shimmer with white fire as I reach out for you . . . .and the tide TURNS !
Passion on the edge of chaos, the quick beat of the heart, exploding giddiness in the mind, violent touch ! . . . . . . . . ..
She has gone.
She has sped behind the clouds and vanished like a thief, she has tricked me
and stolen you away, no bright particle remaining, no moon shadow in the
darkness.
You are gone.
And I am left alone on this sharp rock, howling like a dog at a cruel mistress, who sits, like a silver coin in the sky, turning her tides and singing her songs.
The moon is a cruel mistress.

Elizabeth Blake 2017