Michael Dresser – Poetry & Art
Words and art inspired by nature, and the landscapes of Scotland and New Zealand.
Browse some of the poems and art below (hover over to pause the cycle; click the dots to skip to another). Available as a book, greetings cards, and other gift items - scroll down for details.
Kick off the stumbling blocks that weight your feet;
Walk barefoot over
Cool grass, rough brush, sharp stone,
Until your soles talk to the earth.
Shed the stifling skins that bind your body;
Run naked through
The hot sun, warm wind, wild air
Until you know no other way to feel.
Break the bonds that gag your heart;
Explore the truth of love for
One night, one year, one lifetime,
Until you understand
When you are running
Wild and free and fierce and loud:
Do not forget
The ones who loved you
Quietly and steadily,
So that your spirit might grow
Tall and strong and proud.
Red squirrel runs the staircase of a tree,
And scatters water drops of flashing gems;
Coppergold the autumn hedgerow glows,
As sun sets fire to charcoal crimson stems.
I stop to watch the clouds catch light in flaming pyre,
Stay to hear the wind and rooks in twilight choir,
And, as these voices join with mine,
Together now we sing this silent song of time.
Why fix your eyes in front,
So fearful of your feet…
There is so much sky.
To feel the rough brush of long grass against the sole of your foot.
To feel the cold, wet cling of cloth to ankle.
To taste the mist-rain on your tongue,
To breathe it in and let the earthy dampness fill your lungs.
To catch the distant dog’s sharp bark
Echo through the meadow as he outruns care.
To feel the buried thud of your heart in the sudden silence,
As the reeds pause in their whisper.
To feel this much
Is to know you are alive.
This world is my temple
This world is my temple:
The birdsong is my plainsong,
The sunlight is my healing balm.
My sacred texts are written in,
Are hidden in,
The ancient rings of trees;
My mantras are the whisper of their leaves,
The roaring surf,
The humming of the bees.
This world is my temple:
Perfumed by the incense of a rose,
Or a meal cooked with love;
The cathedrals of the caves, the vaulted forest pillars
Are my hallowed places,
Spaces I can breathe.
For there I have no need to pray
I simply need to be.
One thing I have learned:
One day will come a time to leave.
Do not wish it here,
Do not be sad before it comes.
And when you move,
Do not be sad for what is gone.
One day, when all your here
Exists no longer there,
The breath you took
The words you spoke
In the early morning air.
Man of this land
Dreams made of this misty mountain precipice,
Bones from crags in rolling granite skies;
Deep as lochs your eyes,
And sure as rock your hand.
Your language speaks of London, New York, Tokyo,
But, aye, that city slick cannot deter
Your gorse and heather burr
Where continents are spanned.
So breathe these rarefied and ancient highland airs,
Fill your pipes with music of your heart,
Set your feet apart,
Fearless where you stand.
Man of this land.
This World Is My Temple - the book
Cost: £10 (plus £2 p&p)
To purchase click the 'buy now' paypal link - you can pay by credit card using this option. If you're unable to use this please email me: info [at] michaeldresser.co.uk.