Deep magic this time
Through Samhain flames
But pumpkin light
Holds Glitter and games.
Transforming through play,
To balance dead ones named,
With sparks of sugared-light.
A kiss of whimsy
Communities share
In the spirit of wonder at play.
It cracks the edges
Of sophistication
For Sophia herself to return
Eldest Sister
Youngest Soul
Through laughter grows.
We slip our skins
Masked, bedecked
In our true faces
Or one to try...
For a night the veil thins
Between what is proper
And what is allowed
And the child-spirit within
us can spread it's wings once more...
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Thursday, November 01, 2012
Tuesday, October 30, 2012
The New World Floods - Draft
Somewhere across the pond
Two winds meet
Water rises over edges
Defined for so long as forever
The New World floods
We worry, this side
Powerless against power
So vast dictating what shall be
Lives upturned
The New World floods
Thinking we are atop the chain
The peak of nature
We forget and are reminded
Of Her dominion over us
As the New World floods
Many places have met Ocean
Within my memory
Each time sending ripples
Through our comfort
As their world floods
How can we do other
Than what we do
Even seeing how fragile
Solid ground is
As our world floods.
Sent using BlackBerry® from Orange
Two winds meet
Water rises over edges
Defined for so long as forever
The New World floods
We worry, this side
Powerless against power
So vast dictating what shall be
Lives upturned
The New World floods
Thinking we are atop the chain
The peak of nature
We forget and are reminded
Of Her dominion over us
As the New World floods
Many places have met Ocean
Within my memory
Each time sending ripples
Through our comfort
As their world floods
How can we do other
Than what we do
Even seeing how fragile
Solid ground is
As our world floods.
Sent using BlackBerry® from Orange
Saturday, October 13, 2012
Songstress
Sifting through journals, uncovering memories, hopes, lists of ideas that just might form a ladder to carry me from the muck I felt mired within... I find poems, songs, snippets of beauty and moments of experience stored in rhythm and rhyme. Pieces of time in shapes that tell tales of myth mixed with the mundane. When I don't write stories... I am songwriter.
How many roles do we keep hidden from ourselves? Things we do that we forget, deny, disbelieve?
What shall come of this?
Sent using BlackBerry® from Orange
How many roles do we keep hidden from ourselves? Things we do that we forget, deny, disbelieve?
What shall come of this?
Sent using BlackBerry® from Orange
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