Dreams of Duress

April 25, 2012 § Leave a comment

waves on Orewa Beach

The knife of fear is cold and blunt
upon the tractability of my mourning mind.
Why mourn the bright day
when the night is so much deeper?
I cannot help
but think upon the fluorescing song of light
when sunk beneath the watching waves
of dim steels waxing blight.
The mind paves its way through thought.

I overcame a fear today, which made me think of this poem written years ago. For good and ill, the mind is a powerful thing.

Redolence of Joy

April 18, 2012 § 3 Comments

Tui duet

Solid sensation,
liquid evaporation of joy
to vaporous mist.
This bliss is euphoric,
a tantalising aromatic perception.
The sound of birds aligning their notes
in tantric perfection elates me.
Snow melts across my vision
dripping sedentary sentiment over impression,
cornered by tactility and fragrance.

Fallen Angel

April 13, 2012 § Leave a comment

Sunset Glow

(song lyrics)

Fallen Angels still have wings
And voices for true hearts to sing
When life gets you down
Just smile
You know I’ll be around

Look into my heart
And you will see
I’m there
In times of need
Cos you’re there for me

Take my hand
I’ll lead you to where Angels dance
Believe in yourself
Just take the chance
Fallen Angel

You are loved for who you are
So when heaven seems so far
When blue skies turn grey
Just smile
You know I’m not far away

Look into my heart
And you will see
I’m there
In times of need
Cos you’re there for me

Take my hand
I’ll lead you to where Angels dance
Believe in yourself
Just take the chance
Fallen Angel

Song lyrics from ‘The Journey’
A collection of songs by Marie-Claire Colyer

I wrote this one for my beloved husband when he was wading through a difficult time.

Pomegranate Tree

April 7, 2012 § 2 Comments

There was a pomegranate tree in my garden,
small and overlooked.
It was barren but once,
but that once was a blizzard of bees and a shawl of perfume
and after, the orange suns of ripe fruit.
Honey to sweeten, fruit to preserve, beauty to behold.
There was a pomegranate tree in my garden,
barren when it gave nothing.
But once it gave its all.

From ‘Heartbeat – Poetry of Love’
A collection of poetry by Marie-Claire Colyer

The Rain Will Come

March 30, 2012 § 2 Comments

Sunset over Big Manly Beach, Whangaparaoa, New Zealand

Wet pigment leaks upon waves.
A soft honeycomb illusion,
this invigorating air tinged with salt
and astir with tumescent clouds all swirling to fulfilment.
The sun goes down like a metallurgic metaphor,
a great cocktail coloured egg yolk into blue alcohol,
an amaranth bloom of night overlaying the eternal stars
where evanescing light dissipates the gloom
and settles darkness upon the brow of hill and curling crest
reaching toward twilight devotion
and the gentle grace of Eurynome.
Thunder rumbles distantly over the horizon’s curve
shadowed by looming heights
and the quiet whisper of a drowsy turn
murmurs with each sweeping surge of froth
stealing over sand and coarsely weathered rock.
The rain will come at last.

‘Kereru’ Painting – New Zealand’s Last Pigeon

March 22, 2012 § 4 Comments

Kereru painting by Marie-Claire Colyer

‘Kereru’ painting by Marie-Claire Colyer

Once it was the Moa and New Zealand’s pigeons that ate the large forest fruits whole, digesting the pulp and dispersing seeds. Now all that is left is the Kereru, the last pigeon. Without the Kereru, New Zealand’s native podocarp-broad-leaf forests would no longer contain the diverse range of species they do. Among others iconic to low-land forests, the Karaka, Puriri, Nikau and Cabbage Tree would be absent from regenerating areas.

It could have happened. The Kereru is now classified as Near Threatened on the IUCN red list of threatened species (http://www.iucnredlist.org/). For many years it was Endangered. Like the Moa, New Zealand’s extinct flightless bird, the Kereru was good to eat and its feathers were of use. Now the main pressure is introduced predators. It is just one in a long list of birds confronted by predators it has not evolved to cope with.

For more information on this beautiful pigeon go to http://www.doc.govt.nz/conservation/native-animals/birds/land-birds/nz-pigeon-kereru/

For more information on this painting and to view it in progress please go to my Facebook page http://www.facebook.com/marieclairecolyer/ or to purchase please go to my contact page.

I Watch Your Dreams

March 15, 2012 § 4 Comments


The vapours of dawn drift through the window open to the morning
gliding wet and naked as sylphs.
The air
which at dusk wafted thick as the smoke from burnt roses
hangs clean as though it too has risen from sleep.
You stir
a light motion of breath and sink into slumber.
I watch your dreams
as the waking light touches your lids with pale gold.

From ‘Heartbeat’
A collection of poetry by Marie-Claire Colyer

All That Exists

March 8, 2012 § 2 Comments

Moon Over the Bay

I watch the moon bestowing light,
searching for my own inner pulse,
afraid it has died like coals winking to death.

Yet I find that radiance.
I retain it still;
a beating breath, sublime in its fragility,
stronger than mountain roots.
Though faith be shaken here this day, I feel it still.

I watch the tumble of water, silver by moonlight.
The stream weeps for me;
the sorrowful plunge from the dark depths of the earth,
ice cold,
to embrace the tepid air.
The spring washes the hillside with earth’s tears.

It is all that exists,
the water and the dark mote-strewn night,
the moon and I.

From ‘Heartbeat’
A collection of poetry by Marie-Claire Colyer

I Leave You to Dream

March 1, 2012 § Leave a comment

A few words before I lie down:

Branches toss unruly in the dark. The night deepens. A shiver of breeze under the door like a slither of hope that passes before sleep. Slumber infusing each fussing leaf and naked tendril of moss. The birds huddle in pillows of down, covering eyes with wings now folded, fanning across their restless bower. I vacate this desk, close blinds gently over blackened squares, dimming lights, lowering me into quietude.

I leave you to dream.

The Beginning

February 29, 2012 § Leave a comment

Wielding a paintbrush, a pen, I am used to. Writing deep into the night when my breath soughs with the call of the owl, I am used to. Committing my soul in words and paint I am used to. But I have never used a blog before. Never become public. I am in unknown territory, a neophyte treading the halls of your words for the first time.

Fellow bloggers, I have joined with you, heart, pen and brush in hand. Be gentle.

%d bloggers like this: