The Tree

© Copyright Colin Kinnear and licensed for reuse under this Creative Commons Licence

© Copyright Colin Kinnear and licensed for reuse under this Creative Commons Licence

Dreams often link us to the deepest insights of our own minds and for me they are an inspirational muse. The imagery they leave in my mind on awakening sometimes stirring deep spiritual longings, connections and relationships with the Gods, Wights and Ancestors.  Are they a call…? A message…? A shout in my direction…?

Here is one such example of an imprint made on my mind last evening…

The Tree

The rasping call of a raven cuts through the misty air,
A sodden foot purposefully steps in front of a sodden foot,
Wet crystal droplets float in the air and cling to his face and plaited beard,
Looking up with a single eye, he breaths deep as the branches of a great tree appear through the fog.

Leaves rustle and bark creaks knowingly against bark on his approach,
A light seems to flash in his eye as he looks upward,
No sign of an end to the tree’s height,
It’s form disappearing into the grey expanse.

Holding a spear in one hand, he bends,
Placing his hand flat on the ground at the base of the colossal trunk,
A deep thud penetrates the air, the mist curling outward from the trees,
A deep vibrating hum emanates from below as roots respond to his touch.

Voices from below,
Voices from above,
Voices from within, without and around,
His voice, speaking to himself and sending a message through the tree,
Their voices from every inch of trunk, branch, leaf and root join in the words,
We listen, we learn, we do, we are…

Treading the Bones of The Ancestors


I recently replied to the question posted on Facebook, “Where are your Happy places?”. This took some considerable thought as I live in an almost relentless wave of happiness so I had so many ‘places’ I could name.

However, one such place may seem at first glance to be a rather morbid venue for bathing in the warmth of love, security, belonging and yes… Happiness. And, that place is my local cemetary.

It is without a doubt one of the most peaceful, if considerably (and favourably in my opinion) reclaimed by nature, places in the area and it always blesses me with the gift of relaxing with the wildlife that dwell there… I wrote this poem a while ago that endeavours to put into words, one such visit… I hope you enjoy it.

Blessings /|\


Treading the Bones of Ancestors

Bright rays shine through the needles of the great pine,
Scattering flashes over the ground as if ripples reflected on a turbulent sea,
The cool breeze moves slowly past me,
Continuing on to gently wave the grass and wild flowers.

Resting places of long departed souls embraced by the vibrancy of nature,
Forgotten by humankind but watched over ever vigilantly by others,
A rich repertoire of stories recounting messages of love and loss,
Buried now, except to those who peek under blankets of creeping moss.

The quiet is disturbed briefly as an old Yew shakes,
A small deer ventures into the sunlight cautiously checking the air,
I watch and listen… Still… Silent…
The deer, now relaxed, begins grazing amongst the stones.

As I continue to simply ‘be’ here, I feel honoured to form part of the landscape,
The pace of life is shifted, slowing as our spirits touch and blend,
My human mind throwing off the shackles of time, if only briefly,
Treasuring each passing instant, I breathe and smile.

I return to the path as the deer returns to the Yew,
The crow calls a farewell and I nod in acknowledgment,
Thanking those that form the tales of our past,
Whilst I slowly drift back to my present.

Zombies on the train…

I’m on yet another train…
Travelling along the top of the beautiful Peak District national park. The beautiful landscapes are there and gone in a second and appear to go completely unnoticed by the passengers. Rushed phone calls and agitated business conversations fill the air in the carriage. I wrote the poem below a couple of years ago on a journey up to a speaking gig in Newcastle… Still appropriate here I think…

Train Journeys

Green with coloured flecks blur, like strokes of a brush my figure,
Trees and pylons moving slowly in my ground,
A wash of yellow rapeseed plants paint the scene,
But, by our mechanical din, the pheasant’s call is drowned.

So fast we pass through with no time to spare,
Calling, texting, emailing, the important things,
Deadlines to meet, work to complete,
Scared of what tomorrow may bring.

But what of tomorrow when today is unseen,
Missing life and love through blind agendas,
Fear not the unknown and embrace in the now,
Look outside, to the message life sends us.

Bright Blessings /|\


It’s a ‘Grey’ day…



Yesterday the sun was burning down on the garden here in East England… People everywhere were preparing for a weekend of roasting their skin in the hot UV rays. But it wasn’t to be…

Those same people awoke today and glanced through the curtains only to be confronted by the pitter-patter of rain on the window sills. Their day shattered, they weep into their pillows as they return to bed.

But not me… Yesterday the Trees and the Plants, as well as us, had the chance to absorb some glorious warm energy from the sun and today, treat of treats, we can enjoy the cooling rain. Nothing like a summer shower to invigorate and refresh you…

So here I sit, staring out of the window… Watching the serpentine raindrops writhe their way down the window, each drop building strength as others combine. “Oh please, let there be thunder…”, my inner child whispers.

Just under my nose the steam from my tea cup rises with the aromatic note of a very wonderful ‘grey’ day… Earl Grey day 😉

Bright, if a little damp, blessings /|\