SUBSCRIBE

(life as a christmas cactus)

December 1st, 2017

 

i was thinking about a dream i once had & realized it really

happened: smooth green elevens everywhere dancing to a laughing song

memories masquerading as dreams: my life in crystal darkness but

the moon tells another story: a wonderful obliteration

once upon a time there was a little girl who liked to sit on the

bridge: moon on the water: constellations that create stories to tell

when the moon is full the flowers bloom at night & sing the nocturnal

sun: pink petals peeling away from the bright yellow perimeter

three times three plus two dream divided by dream squared equals a new dream

memory moon stars sun: clouds rain thunder & lightning rolling over

& over again … oh! here is mary queen of scots riding a white

horse through the mists of my mind: she has something important

to tell me: commands in french & scots & latin & then she is gone

but no matter: i am dreaming i am blooming shiny pink petals

 

***

About the Author:

 

Polly MacDavid lives in Buffalo, New York at the moment but that could easily change, since she is a gypsy at heart. Like a gypsy, she is attracted to the divinatory arts, as well as camp fires and dancing barefoot. She has three cats who all help her with her magic.

Her philosophy about religion and magic is that it must be thoroughly based in science and logic. She is Dianic Wiccan and she is solitary.

She blogs at silverapplequeen.wordpress.com. She writes about general life, politics and poetry. She is writing a novel about sex, drugs and recovery.

Stingy Jack

 

 

 

 

Master of mischief

You tricked the devil

Into becoming silver

A coin to pay

The barman’s bill.

 

Lover of lies

You swindled Satan

Into yonder apple tree

Trapped by crosses

You won again.

 

King of coercion

You beat Beelzebub

But your liver couldn’t win

The ale was your sin

You died as you lived.

 

Beer soaked and broken

The devil tricked you

Now your face is a grimace

Trapped in a turnip

Wandering always

You can’t find the veil.

 

 

Don’t try to trick

The devil or the fae

You’ll think you have won

But they always get their way.

 

 

Image credit: Geni, 2006 via Wikimedia.

 

 

***

 

About the Author:

 

Mabh Savage is a Pagan author, poet and musician, as well as a freelance journalist.

She is the author of A Modern Celt: Seeking the Ancestors and Pagan Portals: Celtic Witchcraft.

 

Follow Mabh on TwitterFacebook and her blog.



(samhain)

 

 

 

the leaves fly as i drive home blowing formica gold seventies orange & a washed-out green just a few bright reds this drought has made for a dull autumn still the sun reflects the jewelry in leaves yet clinging to trees the leaves fly after a frost so long in coming oh demeter i will miss you as you search for your daughter oh hecate i do revel in your golden splendor oh artemis i long to join you in this season’s hunt the leaves fly as i drive home the sun sets in a mass of growing clouds red & gold & purple & midnight blue the onset of a cold front

***

About the Author:

Polly MacDavid lives in Buffalo, New York at the moment but that could easily change, since she is a gypsy at heart. Like a gypsy, she is attracted to the divinatory arts, as well as camp fires and dancing barefoot. She has three cats who all help her with her magic.

Her philosophy about religion and magic is that it must be thoroughly based in science and logic. She is Dianic Wiccan and she is solitary.

She blogs at silverapplequeen.wordpress.com. She writes about general life, politics and poetry. She is writing a novel about sex, drugs and recovery.

 

Crackling leaves are burning
Transformed from life to death
The crow calls out relentlessly
To those unseen and life withers
In the blasting of its issue.

 

The Crone’s outstretched hand
Pulls me tightly to her breast
The air chills at her touch
Long icy fingers tapping out
The heart beat of life’s pulse within.

 

The solemn silence of darkness
The pause of silent breath
Power and strength drawn
From the sinewy strands of time.

 

Quartered path of gravel and stone
Flesh and blood
Moonlight and stars
The wellspring of Earth
The light of the cosmos above.

 

I tremble within Her embrace
Form giving way to the formless
Mind swirling within the waters of insight.

 

Sight pierces the veil as the
Road is cautiously chosen
Knowledge of the unknown
Becomes the heat of my desire.

 

The quickening spark waits in
The blessings of fertile darkness
And pulls me towards rebirth
Into a place of Light.

 

***

 

About the Author:

 

 

Robin Fennelly is a Wiccan High Priestess, teacher, poet and author. She is the author of:

 

The Inner Chamber, Vol. One

It’s Written in the Stars

Astrology

 

The Inner Chamber, Vol. Two

poetry of the spheres

Qabalah

 

The Inner Chamber, Vol. Three

Awakening the Paths

Qabalah

 

A Year With Gaia

The Eternal Cord

 

Temple of the Sun and Moon

Luminous Devotions

 

The Magickal Pen, Volume One

A Collection of Esoteric Writings

 

The Elemental Year

Aligning the Parts of SELF

 

The Enchanted Gate

Musings on the Magick of the Natural World

 

Sleeping with the Goddess

Nights of Devotion

 

 

A Weekly Reflection

Musings for the Year

 

Her books are available on Amazon or website and her Blogs can be found at: Robin Fennelly 

 

Follow Robin on Facebook and on Instagram

 

 

 

 

 

 

the next person she met was death. on a white horse riding through a field of red flowers. the sun was just rising & she had nowhere to go anyway. his touch was cold but his smile warmed her entire soul.

immediately her past faded away like it never happened.

the floating world is not heaven. not hell or purgatory or one of the many places a soul could go to after dying. it was a beautiful world. a sorrowful world. she never wanted to leave.

it was in fact a world made just for her. a world her brain designed. a

pageantry of silk & silence. polite propriety. poetic recitation as seduction within & without conversation. dropping lines of haiku written in blood secretly from silken sleeves.

red flowers everywhere. death reappears. hey babe it’s time to go.

no! she cried. no! he smiled & said i know it seems all too soon. but you’re a butterfly now babe. time to fly. time to leave this dark cocoon.

***

About the Author:

Polly MacDavid lives in Buffalo, New York at the moment but that could easily change, since she is a gypsy at heart. Like a gypsy, she is attracted to the divinatory arts, as well as camp fires and dancing barefoot. She has three cats who all help her with her magic.

Her philosophy about religion and magic is that it must be thoroughly based in science and logic. She is Dianic Wiccan and she is solitary.

She blogs at silverapplequeen.wordpress.com. She writes about general life, politics and poetry. She is writing a novel about sex, drugs and recovery.

 

Winter cries

A broken sob

Of rain and throbbing grey

To wistful white

A sorry sight

A tear track trails

And smiling fails

As frost bites hard

Each chew and chomp

Enamel stomp

Upon a tongue

Of furry sludge

A grisly grudge

A snarling wind

And screeching trees

Fog whispers please…

And begs for entry

To the heart

The roaring hearth

The glowing soul

Oh let me in, let me in…

Cailleach cries

But listen not

If you are wise.

 

Copyright 4th December 2013

 

***

About the Author:

Mabh Savage is a Pagan author, poet and musician, as well as a freelance journalist.

She is the author of A Modern Celt: Seeking the Ancestors and Pagan Portals: Celtic Witchcraft.

For Amazon information, click images below.

 

 

Follow Mabh on TwitterFacebook and her blog.

 

Comments are closed.

Trackback URI |