I am blessed to of had such a profound heart opening experience with nature when I was 25 in Wales, Holtsfield community near Swansea. I was encouraged to be alone in the forest making my own home in silence. After couple of weeks I got it, that pure powerful connection, I could see how my breathe was connected to the trees and everything, and I no longer was on a selfish ambitious and empty life. In that moment I cried for an hour for the earth, when I realised how we make her sick in our disconnection, how she is a reflection of our sickness. I became very hungry to build my connection not just with nature, my soul and the spirit of the forest. Finding home poem below was my second poem after oneness. I went to the woods all day and told myself I wouldn't leave until I got the poem and connection back in the City. To be honest I was suffering not having the connection anymore and the city felt like an illusion. Back in London I started to take people out in nature, with fire, to meditate. It's important to have connection with nature, when we deeply appreciate our life comes back into balance and meaning.

FINDING HOME (© Joie de Winter)
Restless eyes judging,
A hunter, hunting,
Leaves of prey.
We give up our eyelids,
our intelligence,
In sequence,
Our nostrils surrender to the winter bite of air,
Soon to be warmed in the absence of our stare.
We hope.
Our king at his throne as thought,
taught us from a young age,
the land of the solar plexus is banished!
Never should we engage.
He smiles down, in confidence,
as it seeps from the wide peaks of his lips.
We are ruled!
Clutching contours of our last vision,
Be a tree,
Begging our lord let us be.
Slumped in the scentless earth holding our knees,
Far from home,
leave us alone, leave us alone.
The sun has wondered,
We meet the moon.
Our midnight saviour,
who silhouetted the forest sights.
Preventing the mind and heart to fight.
Letting in the wild bee’s and leaves
We feel nature’s presence,
We do believe.
Mother nature drowned out the king,
For a crown is only a hat that lets the rain in.
The moon has not hidden,
But merely highlights.
The sun doe’s not distract,
From a deeper insight.
The squirrel we call,
we have become,
We are the last falling leaf,
And the tree top bird,
That has never been heard.
My only wish is we are not watched like TV,
And that others get to be free,
And be.


My first ever poem written in flow up a tree, whilst I was trying make sense of all my teachings I had in the forest with the shamanic type friend for few months.

Following a thread,
that lay inside my head,
I fell from earth to rebirth
Waking I see a tree
abound with connectivity
Less of doing
more of being
For seeing earths true worth.
This comes from knowing
pure intentions, my heart is growing
Forgotten forsaken, its time to awaken,
For all, for oneness,
To sustain and gain
One must give to live.
Back into being
Here earth I come to lay,
Put my attention in this moment,
To listen and to play.
And practice in presence,
As my thinking shifts,
Back into being,
As I experience this!
Truth rising from my heart,
Not relived from the past,
Identity is dissolving,
And my spirit re-births.
And I become nothing,
Of logical worth,
A happening an unfolding,
A few words,
Then a laugh.

MY SUN (© Joie de Winter) (Poem written for performance ‘Life Boat’. Created and performed for an event Bath Time at Passing Clouds with Climate Rush. March 2009.)

My sun the puppet master,
I rise on his rise, after.
Keeping me suspended,
until his presence ended.
My heart so close to my lung,
it melts when I breathe in the sun.
As bright and bold as he seems,
He subtly seduces me.
Repelling my clothes as he rises,
revealing my hidden surprises.
Sly the sun, he slips through my curtains,
Illuminates and caresses my skin.
As welcome as a lover.
As fierce as he is, I managed to hurt him,
In my greed I have disobeyed him.
Never has softness turned so hard,
the bond between us forever scarred.
My greed unforgivable.
My life unlivable.

MISS WIND (© Joie de Winter)

She danced down the road,

she played with the leaves,

she stood my hair on end.

She lend herself to clean the streets,

clean the pathways for my feet.

Heat was needed when she was around,

gaps openings and holes she found.

An attempt to cause a shiver you thought,

but instead, warm embraces were brought.

Lovingly she is there in my despair,

drying my tears that I wear,

Then why the earth wet in sadness,

rising fast to my ears it’s madness,

I long for her past affection,

I miss the wind she’s changed.

WILD FLOW (© Joie de Winter)

(Encouraging people to reconnect to the wild nature in themselves, written after living wild at Pete the Monkey Festival event in France.)

Get up tired eyed,
From the bumpy earth,
With the bird squeaks.
Cold in the night.
Wear its chills.
Until the Heat,
Beats sun,
Around your bare,
asking shoulders.
They breathe.
Get painted in tones,
Of radiance.
Of ‘you look good’
Of yesterday’s fun.
Beyond young.
Let the wind sculpt your hair,
Beyond vanity,
Knotted nests,
Twigs, looks like a nativity.
Let mirrors be gone.
Time be gone.
Day be gone.
Just movement and reaction.
Talks and dances,
Bliss following bliss.
Rest when you need to rest.
Wash when you need to wash.
Bare your feet,
To muddy judgement.
Feel our hands worn.
Dance, dance alone,
In the forest,
With thoughts gone.
Truth meeting truth,
Meeting weird new.
Meeting me,
Ecstasy heart explosions,
Laugh, let yourself laugh.
Don’t be stiff and frozen.
Let yourself stop before bed with the Stars,
Owwww ahhhh.
And jump up again if you can’t sleep.
Turn from side to side,
Agitated by base and beats,
And love making echoes,
And brass bands,
Youth Bountiful.
Curl up with,
Jumpers as pillows,
Spiders go roaming,
Sneaky spider, ants,
Deal with them in the morning.
Bit more wild, less controlled.
Excited at the feeling,
You’re living in the wild flow.
Make this world your own.

SPRING IS A POTION (© Joie de Winter)
I sware in spring,
The winds dance with sun,
And Blossom leaves sing.
I found wind in my hair,
With feathers like wings.
I sware the buds whisper,
And allure me in,
I found my nose yellow,
Buzzing bee’s it did bring.
Like a meditative vibration,
I sunk deep within.
And pulled the meadows
On the end of my breathe,
The whole of spring
Jitters on my chest.
Through my feet
And my eyes.
To shift us from our nests.
I sware spring is a potion,
To renew us back to motion,
Back to life.
And winter a mirror,
Reflector for soul,
Gathering truths,
From a place we know.
I was heavy last night,
And now I am young.
Curiosity has me a slave,
And Love falls from my tongue.
And waits in my lips,
And hushes thoughts wrong.
Drunk in all presence,
As Springs tied up the past,
Locked away winter,
With the future at last.

RUNAWAY MEADOWS (© Joie de Winter)
Don’t disappear.
Don’t be dead.
Race now to the hills,
by the sun,
until you’re out of breathe.
Surrender and trip,
Into your life,
Into joy. Yes.
Let the earth,
break our locked shoulders,
made of stone and fear.
Find yourself burying time,
Within the grass,
Within the rest,
Close to the souls,
that know home.
That know how to open,
armoured petals,
with grace.
Kiss wounds,
like the rain.
Come climb over the walls,
and the towers,
against the fast crowds,
and further,
on the back of a horse,
towards the warm sun.
There the wind waits for your spirit,
you long.
Your arms are in the sky,
to the sun.
Stunted, you question the love,
racing through your body and lungs.
When did you let go?
What awakened the numbness,
You had become?
Tears pour, as you know you’ve reached home.
And the cities grasp has lost grip,
Illusions are gone.
There you are.
You knew it could be true.
That you could be free,
not just living to do.
You are the child,
you once knew,
Not fitting in the corners of this stage,
Every parent tells the child to behave.
Don’t wait and stumble along,
Or fight and point fingers,
hoping others will,
Keep you feeling frightened.
let love pull you into freedom.
You are sweet nectar,
with no name or shame.
You are sun glow,
from your face.
Sparks from the eyes,
that leave people hypnotized,
and drunk in your beauty,
Be bold with me.
Be weak with me.
Trust life will provide,
in simplicity.
Unravel its richness and essence.
Behind noise and our built personalities.
It never was about me or I my love.
Never about pinning the world up,
Against the wall,
Until it told me the secrets of my purpose,
and the passages to perfection.
Life hands you a compass,
that points in all directions.
And spends its days kicking swinging doors,
To stop us locking ourselves away from freedom.
This is where you come in now,
If you’re not already.