The Traditional Model of the Cosmos, Part VI: What About the Outer Planets? — The Wisdom of Our Grandmothers (Reblog)

This is the final installment in the series about the Traditional Model of the Cosmos in which I discuss my ideas about the Outer Planets. For more information about my thoughts on the Outer Planets, see: The Outer Planets – A Theory The Outer Planets: the Pseudomythos of “Higher Octaves” and “Transcendence” Pluto: Its Discovery, […]

The Traditional Model of the Cosmos, Part VI: What About the Outer Planets? — The Wisdom of Our Grandmothers

‘The Silence’ — a poem

Photo by Dids on Pexels.com

The gentle rush of rain
breaks the silence,
soon joined by the cat lapping —
unseen.
Then both are gone;
I watch the miles thick cloud
parading overhead,
dark autumn leviathans
shunting in from the west. Yes,
sometimes the silence gets to me,
it isn’t what I crave.
A silent mind is creative, some say,
then how is darkness a friend?

Copyright Francis Barker 2020a creator fond of poetry

Carl Jung Once Said… — Dexter’s Daily Quotes — Matthew Toffolo’s Summary

Carl Gustav Jung was born on July 26, 1875 and died on June 6, 1961. Carl was a Swiss psychiatrist and psychoanalyst who founded analytical psychology. I agree with Carl in that I believe what he’s saying is there has to be a balance in life. If you have light you must have darkness and […] […]

via Carl Jung Once Said… — Dexter’s Daily Quotes — Matthew Toffolo’s Summary

Poem ‘Underground’

Underground

By night the town paints clandestine shapes,
broach spires pierce a black arras
and decorated naves of Barnack rag
drape like sepia backcloths for ghosts
and revellers who may pass unaware
on equal terms, merely inches
yet centuries above charcoal rivers
channelled underground,
flushing silently till the night
draws out heat
and chatter of day

Streets swarm with strangers now,
unspeaking shadows in recesses
cupping whispers of gamy tongues,
smoking pipes like brittle bones
with fresh memories of tides
and the deep keeled boats
dragged up onto gravel headlands
by gangs of gruff rovers
and rippling Thracian soldiers
from legions awake to chance,
their unwrested sin

poem and image © copyright dfbarker 2012

Poem ‘Silent Wings’

Silent Wings

Looking up into darkness
he asks if that smudge is Andromeda.
She thinks it may be.
He’s heard its light takes
two million years to reach his eyes,
stories on swift silent wings;
galaxies so far away,
so near at hand
like froth spinning round
in her coffee cup.
‘I’ll go there one day,’ he says
‘Why not go right now?’
she asks – ‘in your mind!’
He looks up once again
his mind big like the light-filled sky,
recalling her story of Horus
crossing millions of years

© copyright David Francis Barker 2011

*illustration done wholly digitally