A selection of poems by Dr Jamieson:



Soaring monsters eye their land,
Silently powering through the air.
Patient ancient masters of this realm,
See everything, on and off the ground.
Feathered biplanes regulate, modulate,
Contain, control, observe and …wait.

Swoop purposefully, landing gear lowered,
Claws out, legs braced for contact.
Fifteen kilos shudders meeting earth,
Neck snake-like with extra vertebrae,
Flexible when delving deep, deep Inside.

Despised,reviled, fixed point in mans’ consciousness,
Of fear and memories of past deaths, claws and beak
But  for those, still with eyes, to see,
Their acts of love maintain the circle.
No killing Of  life, no stealing Of joy-
Their services cleaning , tidying , removing from sight,
Evidence of physical death and carcass of spirit,
In order to-
Resurrect and renew




Peter goes about his daily business:
He knows the land, and through his roots,
Thinking, feeling as a tree,
He honours leaves, and thorns and shoots.

There’s all the same to him, in oneness,
Green , yellow, brown, young and old,
He loves them all just as they are,
Honoring the strong, the weak, meek and bold.

Jolly and contented, he visits other trees,
To let them know they’re not alone:
Tree people all around, whose mates they’ll meet,
When the season’s right, through tree knowing.


Merman comes to visit


A man breathing air in water
Slithers and slides for all he’s worth,
To flirt and laugh and chatter.
His ambition – to live in the two worlds.

Kindly, not quite at ease, he tries to
Connect to his little slice of humanity,
Dished out in small metre to a merman
Who slips between sheets of reality to sample our life.

Huge heart pulses under scales,
Wondering how best to help-
Listening to the songs of pain.
He sits still, and loves, and loves.



Maribou, maribou, all white and pink,
Flamingo Like and delicate,
Except when deep inside a carcass,
Blood tinged prehistoric creature.

Fly from lofty tower to tower
Peck  here and there – there’s a method
In this mix of delicacy and power.
As you glide into sustenance .

This job distasteful to most,
Ancient birds know their role on earth,
For millennia, African guardians of the land,
Regulating the dead, sometime midwife to the dying,
An eye here , a tongue there, soft bits first.

A service-to assist the passing to other realms ,
For those who can’t quite get there on their own.



Screech of tyres
No flow of traffic.
Shock and disbelief
Time Stops.
Time suspended.
No breath on pillow
The candle snuffed.
Hopelessness, despair.
Futile passing of time
Surrounded by love
Infiltrating darkness.
Nature’s cycle of
Essence flowing into other forms
As time begins to crawl.
Connecting to spirit
Unconditional love.
This gift, and
Acceptance, time moves.


Bauhinia Blossom

Hanging by gossamer thread;
Pink, voluptuous, expectant.
Waiting for a breeze of freedom
To fully embrace long awaited destiny.
Suspended with potentiality;
Act of supreme courage and hope.
Separating from nourishment –
Expansion and explosion.
Free falling
Sensory overload


Life is complete

Today I was at peace  –
Life seemed complete.
Mountains shimmered on far horizon;
Picture perfect merge with sky blue.
Is there no boundary of earth and spirit- could it be true
That we also merge with this iridescent haze?
In that moment our atoms are dancing
(With rhythm, this isn’t part of some craze)
With their partners in sea, sky and rock
To create a symphony of joy that some try to mock
But underneath have only envy because for us
Life is complete.
This afternoon I’ll sit and think
Of tea and toast and dinner plans,
Less moment into which I’ll sink
Down memory banks of sea, and sand,
Unique, fashioned by a single hand
Which moulds with joy and passion to provide
Perfection in which we may share
To feel abundance and breathe the air
Of life, which is complete.
Tomorrow when I’m flaking out
With mind control and ego rule.
Just when I want to scream and shout
I’ll think back to austere peaks and sea so cool,
And know that there is another World
Where life is complete.