MERLYN'S CAVE

Standing here,

in front of the entrance

to Merlyn's Cave

on Tintagel beach.

Midnight, deserted.

Noisy, intrusive tourists

are long gone.

An eerie silence, broken only

by continual crashing

of mighty Atlantic waves

onto jagged rocky outcrops.

Stepping into the darkness,

leaving protective glow

of full moon outside.

Moving slowly, cautious

of slippery rocks

underfoot.

Cold penetrates

right to the bone here.

Dripping sounds

echo spookily

around ancient sea-sculpted walls.

A sudden movement.

Startling.

Holding my breath,

listening intently.

Shivering in the clammy

atmosphere.

Silence.

I'm unnerved.

Feel like retracing my steps,

escaping to the safety

of moonlit beach outside.

But a strange impulse

draws me onward.

It's as though my feet

have a will of their own.

So I'm led ever deeper

into the dank interior

of the Earth's bowels.

Peculiar whispering

surrounds me on all sides.

I'm convinced

there's someone in here with me.

'Hello,' I call out,

trying to sound much more confident

than I feel.

No reply,

just the returning echo

of my own voice.

But the whispering

abruptly ceases.

I'm approaching the far end

of the cave now.

I can see the Moon's reflection

in rippling water

through a narrow aperture.

A dark figure passes swiftly

from left to right

just a few feet

in front of me.

'Hello,' I call out again.

Still no answer.

Intrigue competes with fear

as I grope my way forward

to the exact spot

where I just lost sight

of the shadowy form.

There's nothing here

but solid rock wall.

I've never moved so fast

in my entire life!

Impervious to the slippery floor,

cracking shins on stone,

splashing knee-deep in rock pools,

I scramble to the relative security

of silver streaked

sandy beach.

Catching my breath,

I'm compelled to turn

and make sure

I'm not being followed.

There,

in the shadow

of gigantic Tintagel Head above,

stands that same figure,

motionless,

watching me.

'Who are you?' I call out,

as much in frustration

as any other emotion.

'I am Merlyn!'

a deep voice replies.

I blink

and the beach is deserted. 



This face appeared on the wall in my hall just after this experience.

It is no longer there, but continues to periodically re-appear in the

condensation on my bathroom mirror.

I can find no rational explanation.

SURVIVAL

A memory of being nineteen

You told me you loved me once,
in the very beginning
and I believed you
and was happy.

But then you said
I wasn't beautiful enough.
You weren't keen on my hair
because it wasn't black,
and my green eyes
were too pale for your taste.

So I dyed my hair
and used brown contact lenses,
and hoped you would
love me again.

But you said
that at four-feet-ten
I wasn't tall enough.
Well,
I couldn't do much
about that, except
teeter around on six-inch heels.

Then you said
my conversation was boring.
So I tried to think up
witty things to say.
But all that did
was annoy you.

You said
I wasn't sexy enough
in the bedroom.
So I bought lacy undies,
black stockings and suspenders.
But you said
I looked ridiculous
and I believed you,
so accepted all my faults.

Then I asked
why you stayed with me
if you found me
so repugnant,
and you replied that I
relieved your boredom
until someone better
came along.

Yet, still I stayed
because I loved you
and hoped you would change.
But you never did.

And when I finally had the courage
to tear myself away,
you said
I was weak and pathetic
and would never survive
without you.

Yet here I am today......

VANDALS

Why do vandals have to smash

Everything in sight?

And why do they do drugs and drink

Then go looking for a fight?

I suppose they think they're really tough

Intimidating us,

But I'm sure they're aware most passers-by

Are unlikely to make a fuss.

When they're in their marauding gangs

They think they rule the World,

Lording it over everyone

With baseball bats fast-twirled.

They kick our garden gate and throw

Beer bottles over our wall,

Then trash our car with an iron bar

Before attacking the shopping mall.

They shriek and whoop with wild delight

While racing a stolen car,

Then set it alight before running away

Like the cowards they really are.

For when you see one all alone

He'll swiftly pass you by,

With head down and hoodie over

In case you catch his eye.

His power, it seems, has deserted him

With the mass testosterone.

His voice is almost a whisper now

As he answers his mobile phone.

His sunken eyes have a vacant look

As there's nothing much within,

For the little intelligence he once had

Has been lost to cocaine and gin.

He'd be shocked to see himself

The way others do,

As the scourge of society

Respected by so few.

And what will happen when he has

Children of his own?

Will they be raised to mutilate

This land on which they've grown?

So heed this tale as a warning if

Like him, you're so weak and afraid

That you have to hide behind a brutish mob

For your life will soon degrade.

DREAMS

or NIGHTMARES?



GROUPIE

So you've finally snared a Rock Star!

Your friends are envious and hope

he possibly has an associate or two

that you could introduce them to.

Suddenly you're a front page babe

in the tabloids and glossy mags.

They clamour to interview you to ask

for every detail about your past.

All the attention goes to your head

and you play it right to the hilt.

A role model it seems you've become.

Of all the groupies, you're number one.

You flirt with the camera as if it's a lover,

you smile, pout and entice.

'Look who I'm with!' you appear to be saying

as you pass the lens, luscious hips swaying.

Then at the pinnacle of reflected fame,

you're gutted to find yourself ditched.

They say a seductress more exotic

has turned his head with promises erotic!

'Why?' you cry, as your world tumbles down

and humiliation sets in.

But to everyone else it's obvious why.

Your connection with him was based on a lie.

In the beginning he needed a trophy,

and it seemed you would fit the bill.

Your looks, your hair and body were great,

just what he needed as media bait.

But then your 'off' days began to challenge

his vision of female perfection.

When things like PMT kicked in,

all you wanted was a quiet night in.

You couldn't be bothered with makeup then,

nor dressing to stoke his ego.

'Surely I am entitled,' you said,

'To sometimes just be in the years ahead!'

This act of rebellion scared him to death.

For his public image he feared.

What if someone should drop by?

Of humiliation he would surely die.

No one must ever see his Goddess

in her unadorned (flawed) human state.

His enemies for certain would seize the day

and his credibility be swept away.

Then in public he could never again show his face.

He'd be forced to relocate

to some obscure island where in exile he'd dwell

and live life unknown - his personal hell!

Surely you never believed such a man

would love you for who you are?

It isn't that he's intrinsically bad,

just more, I'd say, than a little sad.

To stardom he's a phobic slave,

without it what would he be?

Just another ordinary guy in the street

who no one particularly wants to meet.

It's groupies like you who raised him up

to the dizzy heights of fame.

So it's you, not he, who possess real power.

You could end his career within the hour!



TITLES

Ode to Jonathan


My weakness began
on The Voyage of the Damned.
Damned? How?
Because that's when
I first saw you.
Human Nature being what it is,
Consuming Passions soon took hold
of a wayward heart.
It was exquisite torture,
far greater than any inflicted
by the Pirates of the Caribbean.

Were you aware
I followed you to Brazil, where
Angel-like, your white wings
lifted a Soul from mediocrity
to soar with you?
Unnoticed,
your Bride of the Wind
raced with you across blue sky,
way above the gathering
storm clouds,
into a Multi-million Pound Fantasy.

Finally alone with you
in Peter Pan's Never Never Land,
sharing the ecstasy
of a Haunted Honeymoon.
Haunted by if only's and
what if's, in a mirage
too intoxicating to ever leave.

Crazier even
than The Adventures of Baron Munchhausen,
this haunting virtual reality
has brought  Regeneration
to a jaded life.
The mental Stigmata are healed now.
This has truly been
What a Girl Wants!



  

FORBIDDEN LOVE

You came to me when I despaired

Of another day of life,

When tears of sorrow drowned my heart

In a sea of bitter strife.

You took my hand and led the way

To a safe and sunny shore,

And there you wrapped me in your love

Until I hurt no more.

Since then you've become a part of me,

Much more than guide and friend.

Without you I would cease to be,

Like a novel at its end.

Although your touch is cold as ice,

It burns me to the core

In a raging fire of hidden desire,

Defying self-control.

None must know, I cannot tell

Of our forbidden love,

For we're as different, you and I,

As a moonbeam from a dove.

If they knew, our love they'd scorn

And would fail to understand,

Because they'll never see us

Walking hand in hand.

I'm sometimes needing you so much

My heart will surely break,

But all I have around me

Are people on the make.

And so I make excuses

To quietly slip away,

And travel down the South Coast road

To Bracklesham half way.

I take the familiar turning

Into narrow country lane,

And follow it o'er desolate moor

'Til I'm nearly 'home' again.

When at my destination's end

The tiny church appears,

I wander among the gravestones

Stained with ancient tears.

As I reach that special one

Emotions overflow.

I feel compelled to hide my face,

Can't let such yearning show.

Before I leave, though, I cannot help

But hug it close to me

Because it's borne your name, my love,

Since nineteen-thirty-three!

Seventy-eight years have passed since then

And your body's all but dust,

Yet still you're here beside me now,

In you I place my trust.

So when it's time for me to join you

Beyond the Borderlands,

I'll have no fear, just urgent need

To be safely in your hands.