This poem was written in Zennor in 2000. I had travelled to Cornwall to see friends, particularly Ian Caple (Ei), who wasn’t well. Unfortunately, on my way down I heard that he had died. Ian was an inspirational member of the St. Just community: a musician (saxophone), artist, philosopher and printer he was instrumental in bringing people together and inspiring local art and culture.
By David Bickley
Energy,
She came and rested as a whirlpool
Under the granite houses,
And like a sweeter radon
Entered our bodies and our souls.
She brought the nighttime from the moorland.
She brought fragrant flowers,
Gentle rain,
And music,
Ancient as the hills.
And this music traveled,
Into the hearts and minds of others
Became the centre for communication
Venerating ancestors,
Those who in flickering firelight
Raised bronze
And skin
To the twin-horned crescent moon
And you my brother
You who lay for aeons amid the sober white
You who explored etymology as magic,
herbalism as adventure
& music as laughter.
You were and are key
As Neptune left his chair
As key to observation
To understanding oceans
Golden trumpet,
The bell beneath the waves,
Glitter metal gong, Way inside,
At the deepest level of all man
bud gentle leaves amid the storm
That the sunlight will pattern and gloss
Will penetrate the mind-mine
Open up adits of cool mountain airs.
And the dragon,
He who slumbers yet again
Will be awoken by the turning stars
And as pattern becomes knowledge
He will breathe through the earth
Through the crumbling granite
Into your home
Into your tissues
And fire will reign at the centre of the rose
And the yew tree will bark in night-time church ground
His roots will shake the foundations,
And we are all stirred.
Shaken with joy,
Through the heartland,
Of Penwith, Amore.
David Ian Bickley
Award winning producer, director and editor David Bickley is founder and MD of Alchemy. He has shared some of his films with Cornish Story and we have made them available to view through our newsletter.
