Sky_Emmons October, 2009

Light the Hill of Tara

The dark half of the year

Awakens

Those that dwell in the hallow hills

With flowers and candles

I honor you

Spirits of the Air

Take me on this journey

End my mourning

Take sadness away

Lift the veil of

Seperation

Of night and day

In the dark of the Earth

I plant the seeds

Of who I want to be

Great Goddess Cailleach

With her hammer

Hardens the earth

Turns the night

Thins the veil

The Crone

Now shines

Spreads her dark cape

To cover the hills

Cover the sea

Cover me in shadows

And I shall remember

There is nothing I want

There is nothing I need

In the darkness I surrender

In the shadows I am alive

Like the seed

Under the Earth

Tags: incantation, poem, Poetry, samhain

• Poetry

Theresa C. Newbill September, 2009

sees herself in the skeleton of moonlight,
a sentient being in the whiteness of madness
where disturbing platitudes of murmuring curses
echo through the fascination of a crystal ball. She,
irksome black witch, bleeds green gems of woven
jade as an opaque pavilion of stars wades into
tangled clouds. In the darkness, She grows larger!
In the darkness, She grows louder! Holistic eyelids
like a scythe proscribe morbid dances drinking in the
calmness of tandem wines. The history of past years
inhale and exhale wildly through an open stare of pure
consciousness, finding a beacon to eulogize humanity’s
cries without censure. Relish in Her beauty, for She is
the Goddess of all natural things found beneath the skies.
Enelne! Enelne! The butterflies bring you treasures while
Katamba sends you His love. Take heart dear ones, for
The Great Mother of the Rakash, shall guard and guide
your souls though the many faces and multitudes of tears.

Tags: poem, Poetry

• Poetry

Angie Lisle September, 2009

We failed her, we failed

our mother bleeds

oceans from wounds

that swell and drown

land punched and stabbed

by humanity

raping the sacred

womb wheels off courses

flushing despair and

anguish on all

that was is no longer

certain that all

that was can be

no more damaging

if we want to save

our Mother Earth.

Tags: poem, Poetry

• Poetry

Mary DAlba September, 2009

The Air -
so crisp and clear.
It tells me what I need to hear.
It encourages me to think deeper.
It whispers the truth in my ears.

The Earth -
so solid and strong.
It takes on my pain, transforming it.
It helps me to stand strong.
It loves me like a mother would.

The Fire -
so passionate and light.
It brings illumination to what I need to see.
It burns away the hurt and pain.
It keeps me warm when I feel the chill.

The Water -
so cool and refreshing.
It washes me of all my worries.
It glides me along the current of my life.
It blesses me with peace.

The Spirit-
the one that lives inside me.
It keeps all of my memories, my skills, my talents.
It helps me learn my lessons and grow.
It is who I am – as above, so below.

Tags: poem, Poetry

• Poetry

Theresa C. Newbill September, 2009

Warm tones glazing over wharves of receding lands,
join the procession of men in saffron robes.
Dragon’s fire, knotted roots, whispers of sandals
through leaf-molded earth, chant, chant, chant
against all darkness opposing.

Silas has come to die today, in that ditch by the
meadow, thirteen miles in where the woods wind into
the semi-circle of a dark green grove. With silent
lips by huddled masses, the priest weeps, hungry for
the low lisp of a cricket’s call.

White animal bones, ritually placed under the thick
fog of a winter’s moon, reflect the light of sudden
frost. Oh Magus martyr, sleep! Cernunnos blesses you
with solace as nature holds up her mirror to the wild,
devoted creatures of the night.

Under the arching heavens, odorous trees bring incense
to bonfires inebriating the Kerridge hills, untouched by
the molten blue of morning. Song of Amergin, act of
sacrifice; effaced footprints in the soil, victory is yours!
Rain falls in the warmth of summer.

Tags: poem, Poetry

• Poetry

Sky_Emmons September, 2009

The wind grows cooler
As I grow older
The Earth grows
distant
From the sun

I seek balance
Night to the day
Everything around me
Falling
In shades

As I grow grey
Shadows shifting, moving and lifting
Revealing the Moon
Yielding
To the Underworld

And I learn
How apples become stars
Lighting the night with
Promises
Full of life

Tags: autumn, fall, poem, Poetry

• Poetry

Theresa C. Newbill August, 2009

The wytches’ child possesses a silver pentagram,
it hangs amidst the green-white phosphorous
lights where somnambulists channel souls from
the oasis of stellar-electric blasts that carousel
the brown chestnuts of old oak trees.

Here, she dances sky clad among the white-silken
mists and apple blossoms that nearly caress the
night sky. Always indiscriminately, she pours her
heart out to shadowy figures most would find
grotesque, if not for the fragility of a flower, bruised,
with strewn petals.

Small animals, wild for carrot taking, stop to stare
at a cricket waving his antennae in a field of grassy
knoll opposite the wytches’ cottage, where Spirit
begins to scatter droplets of rainwater from the twigs
of bushes, darkened by a Midsummer’s wind.

Often, beneath the waves of a sparrow’s wing,
under towed sunlight gathers with mustard glow over
the rattling of tarantulas’ feet. The wytches’ child,
smells of eucalyptus and burnt necklaces made of shell,
made of bone. Every foe is her friend, and she laughs
as she builds a world of snow.

Silvery tinges of sparkles remain collected, protected, in
the magick of her moment. Violet hues radiate through
clear glass swellings. Between the idea, between the
reality of conception and creation, there is motion. The
casual are less aware, but every now and then I remember
to shake the bubble and dream!

Tags: poem, Poetry

• Poetry

Sky_Emmons August, 2009

Torchlight

Guides the path

To the crossroads

I ride

My companions

Honey

Pearl and poppy

Encased in silver and black

Dragons pull along

As dogs bark the evening song

A message I take with me

To the Mistress of Storms

I harkened back

When I turned the Key

Wisdom and faith

Grew like daisies

And the Sun laughed

As I cried her name

I knew it then

She would be with me

So here I ride

With all I have

A message to give

To the Mistress of Storms

Turn the sands

Echo of time

Let the plants grow

Let the grain shine

In this moment

In this torchlight

In the offerings

At the crossroads

In the wisp of clouds

She came to be again

To send gentle winds

Tags: poem, Poetry

• Poetry

Theresa C. Newbill August, 2009

Break; break from the preachers of despair,
join the liquidations of masses that travel
electric around space, chiming in unison about
lost quatrains. Their spiritual urgency created
by a primordial light where sanctuaries of prophesies
linger in spirals of white, Sabbath moon, tree of life.

Break; break from the remorse of dawn, the stain
of guilt that makes clock hands stick with savage servility
behind star drifts of forgotten connections. You’re my
beautiful ransom in this bubble of metaphysics that
makes my heart beat faster and faster with the simple
devotion of your manic passion.

Break; break from those that hate, slithering as eels,
inside the grief of your soul. Dance! Dance upon the
pseudo rhetoric of their squall heads as you weep
for violets and blue forget-me-nots. There’s a river that
ebbs and flows beneath the gangrene of your feet.
Let Earth rain as a soft voice calls you from afar.

A Wicca hand is typing these lines, waiting for your eyes
to take on the journey!

Tags: poem, Poetry

• Poetry

David Sparenberg April, 2009

In all of the places gray

Glimmer Man carried his secret

that there is death in life

and life in death.

A dancer of veils followed his footsteps.

A man with a drum arrived at dusk

setting fire to the circle of souls.

Lovers embraced transforming memory.

Out of their kisses

grew gardens of Spanish lavender.

Angels returned to orchards.  Yes angels.

The old were enchanted and young again.

Because of this Earth magic

withered faces of misery

hid forever in the leaves of history.

Play of children blew dust and ashes away.

In all of the places gray

a fairy tale was brought to life.

Beauty of the young mother

with eyes of brown-fire shone

beneath the circling winds of heaven.

Night of stars!

Deserts of the world of hurt and hunger

rolled and rippled

as if ocean into waves of flowers.

Heather for your heartache.

Rose and lily for the dead

who will return to walk the Earth again.

St. Patrick’s Day
17 March 2009

Tags: fantasy, poem, Poetry

• Poetry