Archive | March, 2011

Something Wiccan This Way Comes

31 Mar
The moon is full
High in the sky
Something Wiccan this way comes

Fire in a grove
Burns brightly tonight
Something Wiccan this way comes

Voices chant
To the beat of drums
Something Wiccan this way comes

Dancing in a circle
Figures robed or skyclad
Something Wiccan this way comes

Circle cast
Four corners called
Something Wiccan this way comes

Evocation
An invitation
Something Wiccan this way comes

Energy raised
Spell cast forth
Something Wiccan this way comes

Contentment within
Goddess joins celebration
Something Wiccan this way comes 

Under a Blue Moon
Goddess gives her blessing
Something Wiccan this way comes

For now
And forever
Something Wiccan this way comes
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Lament Of The Sea Witch

27 Mar
On certain nights seen can she be,
when the surf becomes rough from a brewing storm at sea.
A dark-haired woman simply dressed standing in the sand,
where the water beats at the land.

Deep sorrow fills her eyes,
and the tears running down her face are no surprise.
Stand quietly and without comment,
Listen to her story and her lament.

Fell in love did she, 
with a young man who sailed the sea.
And he in love with her it seems,
together they had family dreams.

A fisherman by trade,
far out to sea where big money can be made.
Their courtship lasted for three years,
and on their marriage day many happy tears.

His frequent trips kept their marriage from being stagnant,
and one day she smiled at him and said that she was pregnant.
Casting the tarot to check how their future would be,
Shock she felt at seeing future tragedy.

Charms and amulets for him she did make,
begging him to wear them for safety's sake.
Smiling, he kissed her and took what she'd made,
And seemingly did as she bade.

But to superstitious crewmates the charms he gave,
And it was their lives the charms would save.
Caught in a storm his fate was sealed,
and to the sea his life he did yield.

The survivors returned to tell their story,
of those they lost without heroic glory.
A tree they planted for the pregnant widow,
In her husband's memory a weeping willow.

Her tragic story is not yet done,
at Pearl Harbor she lost her son.
A water witch ever was she,
and to her death she walked into the sea.

Now she waits on the Eastern coast,
not as a person but a grieving ghost.
Crying no louder than a whispered sound,
knowing no rest til her family she has found.

I Should Be Tempted To Forget

26 Mar
I should be tempted to forget,
All the wrongs I've done to others,
And to myself, through the years of regret,
Anger, hurt, and tears.

But forgetfullness does not come,
Though lessons I have learned.
My heart aches to be numb,
I should be tempted to forget.

My Arms Stretched Skyward I Draw Down The Moon

25 Mar

My arms stretched skyward I draw down the moon,
In this ancient grove ’round bonfire display,
I dance to the beat of a sacred tune.          

With the Divine I do seek to commune,          
To God and Goddess my voice loud I pray,       
My arms stretched skyward I draw down the moon.

Honoring the Mother of blessed triune,         
Joy filled heart of a Wiccan devotee,          
I dance to the beat of a sacred tune.          

With energy raised I begin to swoon,           
Grounding the excess I dare not delay,         
My arms stretched skyward I draw down the moon.

With measured resonance poetry I croon,
Feeling the magic of this moment’s play,
I dance to the beat of a sacred tune.

Though my ritual shall be ending soon,
I will continue moving on my Way,
My arms stretched skyward I draw down the moon,
I dance to the beat of a sacred tune.

Do Not Mock Lightly Sir Dylan Thomas

23 Mar

Do not mock lightly Sir Dylan Thomas,          
Though you may think he may not hurt a fly,    
To no good end, will it come, I promise.      

Gentle sir, let not your comments be crass,    
Though of true belief on the by and by,        
Do not mock lightly Sir Dylan Thomas.          

If satirical thought you make alas,            
My head I will hang low as I do sigh,
To no good end, will it come, I promise.       

Of his brilliance you continue to razz,
Show no surprise when he gives his reply,      
Do not mock lightly Sir Dylan Thomas.          

I implore you, my friend, to show some class,  
Should his left and right raise from you a cry,
To no good end, will it come, I promise.       

On the day I attend your Hallowmas,
From wounds delivered by Him, you did die,
Do not mock lightly Sir Dylan Thomas,          
To no good end, will it come, I promise.

Trying Out Poetry Forms

23 Mar

I have decided to try out some poetry forms. Though I am a renegade poetry writer, I believe only good can come from having fun with these standards of the poetry craft. I hope you will enjoy my attempts, I know I will.

In The Broom Closet

22 Mar

In the broom closet
Is where I hide,
Afraid of what others may
Think about what I feel inside

Peeking through the slats
Of the door I see,
So many other broom closets
With people hiding, just like me

Some are open just a little,
To my dismay,
Some families accept them
But others turn away

Some are open even further,
With the same results,
I’d expect this behavior from children
But not adults

Glancing out more
I see with pride,
Some stand without, the broom
Closet door thrown open wide

Some day soon, I hope it may be,
That none of us need to hide
In the broom closets, but 
Stand proud, accepted and free