My Poems
Mystic Jewel Box
I stand on the crested face of humanity
And look up to the black ink filled sky.
Watching the deep velvet darkness of night,
I can feel the distance vibrate in my soul
With a measurement undefined.
Bright scattered jewels fixed in the heavens
Caught with a brilliant fire ever changing
Make me stretch my hand with a yearning
To touch the magical jewel box of divinity
I see the true colors of jewel tones
Reds Blues Yellow White
I wish to string these magnificent stones
With the bright silver pearl of the moon.
I want to cast the silver tone of this magnificent oystered pearl
Across the black ink of shadows in which I stand
So that I can see with all the magnificance of the cosmos.
I draw down my hand even as I cast up my eyes
I cast my thoughts into the farthest reaches
Of times and places yet to be known
In my minds eyes I have gathered these precious gems
Within their velvet lined box
With a size that encompasses all so easily.
I run my hand through their seemingly cold touch
And am warmed by the knowledge
That this dreaming is meant for all
Spring Time Birds
I hear the sweet songs of the spring time birds
They twitter as they fling their song beyond the trees
I envy their wings,
Bringing them to new and yet old places of life
Leaving the silvered tinkle of their voices as they pass
They gather within the budding branches
Calling out their winter gossip...old to hear the new
I wonder what they talk about
In such different voices and with such different languages
Can the Robin really understand the Jay?
Or do they talk with polite ignorance,
Merely enjoying the sound of their own voices
With great swoopings and flurries of feathers
They take wing together in a frenzied mass of song and voices
Some make for the feeders,
Busying themselves with gorging on the free seeds
That will drop down to the spring time grass
Only to sprout as corn or thistle
They squabble with each other, Robin and Jay
And fight over the sunflower seeds like upset neighbors
While I laugh from the inside, enjoying my spring time birds
Fall Leaves
As the cold winter winds begin to make themselves known
With early frosts of lacy white.
The summer time leaves begin to welcome fall
With the annual parade of reddened leaves
Accentuated with browns and yellows
Not to leave out orange!
But together begin to greet the slowing seasons
When Nature must begin Her rest
The bright speckled leaves swirl down
To envelope my feet and crackle with my steps
I skip the top covering away to find the acorns underneath
The squirrels come out to play tag with the leaves
The winner claims the nuts to hide
I can only stop and look, leaning on the oak and pine
As I watch Nature's Fall Artistic Show
In the Age of Gold
I danced
I sang, raising my voice to the heavens
The stone walls of the temples vibrated with my song
The earthern floor pulsed with the pounding of my feet
I was joyous and free
The Lady was praised in song
In the Age of Silver
I still danced, but the beat was slower
My song was confined to home and temple
But the walls still vibrated and the floor pulsed
I was joyous but contained
The Lady was praised inside
In the Age of Bronze
I danced in secret, hidden from my neighbors
My voice was a whisper, fearful but still there
I danced in the groves and the trees swayed
I danced and the flowers bloomed
I was fearful
The Lady was being broken
In the Age of Lead
My voice was stilled
My feet were broken
My drum splintered and molded
I was terrified and made unworthy
No Lady existed for me only the Storm God
In the Age of Ashes
The drum was found
The pictures of dancing rediscovered
Song became reknown
My sisters picked up the drum
The beat will go on
I see the flicker of the Golden Age
The Lady is reborn
My Life
I sit in the wreckage of my life
Shambles, torn asunder
I rail at the Universe
It's not my fault! Why do this to me!
But it is
My life to choose
My life to live
My happiness to experience
My mistakes to make
Do I apologize and move on?
They call it eating crow
I can taste the feathers
I turn my back on the comfortable excuses
I take painful steps toward change
My life to live
I live it
I have not forgotten
They have forgotten you Mother
Mother of us all
Wrapped you in sweet fragrances
given you pretty clothes
or none at all
Leaving nothing to the imagination
flesh ripe and ready to be plucked.
The Maiden is dainty and laughs
She dances in extacy each step light and fair
No tangles in her hair
Teeth so white
Mother holds a child
No stomach stretch marks on her fair skin
White
So white
So few other colors
No wrinkles except laugh lines.
Where is the Crone?
Laughing at the Mother's child
Her wrinkles from life
Must be from trials not all that great.
They have forgotten Mother
But I have not.
Where is the Maiden who dances on death
Howling with laughter holding a scythe
Death does come young
Before Mother
Before Grandmother
Where is the Mother choosing no child
Belladona Rue Other plants
Not all women are mothers, not even Goddesses
Where is the Grandmother?
Shoveling dirt on the grave taking the Maiden's scythe
Does she cover the prayers of the dying for one more moment
One precious glimpse of the sky
One more strangled breath of air
She cuts it off
Ends it
Why do they assume She cares?
They don't remember Mother
But I do
Life is not all candy and sweetness
Clever backgrounds of naked goddesses
Holding rainbows and water
She is the howl of the banshee
Dripping fear
Taking the child too young
Taking the man too old
She is the giver of no choices
Make do with what you have
She is the giver of experience
Death blood maggots dirt
We embrace the light
Can we hold the dark
Maybe they choose to not remember Mother
But I do
To flip through the pages of my BOS faster...
Brightest of Blessings