Posts Tagged ‘Poems’
Children
I see them and it makes me shiver
Teenagers teaching workshops
With confidence and skill
Children who had magick sung
To them each night
Over their cradles
As the Moon rose in the window
I know it sounds cliché
But the future is in their hands
*
Grey haired Elders
Who bitch and complain
Certainly they have the right
To say they’d never do it again
They talk and rant about things
Out dated by twenty years
Embittered by drama and gossip
They walk away tired and disillusioned
I know it sounds cliché
But the future is leaving their hands
*
I hear the whispers from people who know
Things are changing in a quiet sort of way
Some folks are scared and worried
What does the future hold?
I see children run by at the Gathering
I smile and I say
I know it sounds cliché
But expect to be similarly surpassed
In ways we can’t even imagine
I see them and it makes me shiver
With anticipation
Three Witches
They meet at the appointed place and time
And greet each other warmly with a smile
Up the hill and into the woods they climb
Down winding trails they walk in single file
*
Passing under maple trees, oaks and birches
Entering a hawthorn grove they slowed
Where three paths meet stood three witches
And prepared for a ritual at the crossroad
*
With candles carefully lit they begin the rite
Tentatively they start to drum and chant
Voices raised in celebration well into the night
With gratitude for gifts the gods do grant
*
Then the lights go out and into darkness they gaze
Quietly they call to the spirits and then they lay
The forest turns into a dark and ghostly haze
Witches whisper with delight and watch the fae
*
Prayers are said and magick spoken
But soon its time to pack up and head home
Offerings given as some small token
Three witches always sisters wherever they roam
Digging Through the Archives
It’s Still Pagan
*
To the tune of “Its still Rock n’ Roll” By Billy Joel
*
What’s the matter with the robes I’m wearing?
“Can’t you tell that your cord’s too wide?”
Maybe I should buy a hooded cloak
Like back in the burning times
Where have you been in the broom closet honey?
“You can’t dress witchy ’till you spend a lot of money”
*
Everybody’s talking about the new Path
Funny, but its still NeoPagan to me
*
What’s the matter with the broom I’m riding?
“Can’t you tell that it’s out of style?”
Should I get a store bought besom?
“Are ready for us to laugh and smile?
Nowadays, you can’t be too traditional
Your best bet’s besom made exactly the way we tell ya”
*
Dark Goth, Light Fluff – even if it’s old junk
It’s still NeoPagan to me
*
Oh, it doesn’t matter what they say in the Circle
‘Cause it’s always been the same old scene
There’s a new Grove in town, but you can’t get the word
From a story in a magazine
Aimed at your average teen
*
How about a pair of pentacle tattoos
And a dress from the renaissance?
“Well, you could really be Selena Fox, baby
If you would just paint it all black
Don’t waste your money on a shiny new cauldron
You get more mileage from a cheap-o pot”
*
New Age, Faery, Wicca craze
Anyways, it’s still NeoPagan to me
*
What’s the matter with Coven I’m joining?
“Can’t you tell that they’re out of touch?”
Should I try to be a solitary Pagan?
“If you are, then you think too much
Don’t you know about the new Wicca, honey?
All you need are books and a whole lotta money”
*
It’s the next thing, Heathen, Druid, Celtic
Anyways, it’s still NeoPagan to me
Everybody’s talking about the new Path
Funny, but its still NeoPagan to me
*
By Juniper 2006
The Struggle
How can finding the right thing to say
Be so simple?
Words drip from their lips
Like flawless pearls
My mouth is full of marbles
The right thing to do
Seems as bright and clear as day
As they move gracefully
And with an inborn ease
While I stammer and stumble with each step
The right thing to wear and the perfect hair
Adorn their elegant bodies
Complimenting style and finesse
Eyebrows delicately raised in response
To my failed attempts at dignity
Did they have mothers
Who were just as refined?
Who taught them manners and propriety
Until it became as natural as breathing?
I cannot help but wonder
If only I had a mother capable of tact
Would I socialize with such
Utter nimbleness?
Intelligent conversation
Sails past my ears
Their words never take a wrong turn
As I struggle not to misspeak
To not interrupt or repeat
Mindless pleasantries surround me
I struggle to maintain a smile
Grateful that they deign
To tolerate my ineptness
At least for a little while
Then I take that inevitable misstep
Exposing my clumsiness
I cringe and shudder
As they cluck their tongues
Gossip behind my broken back
Speak over my bowed head
And assume only the worst intent
Silent tears slip unempathized
Down my burning cheeks
As I silently wish I had just half
Of their shine and polish
Excuse me please
Which way to the can?
I think I am about to have an anxiety attack
Repost: Be A Pagan Leader
No, I don’t consider myself to be leader (see my about blurb to the right) this was written for friends and loved ones.
*
Build you up to tear you down
Spitting on their heroes
Tearing you part
Then holding their hands out
What the hell do they
Think that they doing anyway?
*
They say toughen up and deal
If you want to be a leader
Then harden up your heart
And don’t take it oh so hard
Do they not understand?
Can they not comprehend?
It is that very soft spot
That giant loving heart
That makes you willing and able
To be a Pagan leader
*
They say it’s all trade off
Part and parcel for the fame
As if you were Madonna
Riding around in a private plane
*
Why do they do it?
What could be their reasons?
Do they think that they are
Doing the community a service?
Are they stroking their own egos?
Riding on your coat tails?
Or do they just want to see you suffer?
*
Making two whole dollars
For each and every book sale
Speaking at the festival
And getting paid with peanuts
Isn’t all that easy
When you have mouths to feed
*
Buying up a property
Organizing a gathering
Taking out a second mortgage
Promoting and volunteering
Working when you could be
Spending time with the kids
*
And then the people show up
And they have so much fun
Then toss a bag of chips
Out the window on their way out
Leaving you to clean the litter
*
They say you can take it
Even if you hate it
Take the heat and love it
Or get your Pagan ass
Out of the kitchen
*
I can’t help but wonder
How long they could do it?
Would they last a week running fest?
Or teaching a class?
Could they handle all the slander?
From those they are serving?
I know that I am dying
To see them dying inside
And know how it feels
To be hand that’s feeding
Only to be bitten
*
They pick and they snipe
Argue and criticize
Gossip and spread rumours
Then expect you to give them
Everything for nothing
*
They only want what they want
Never mind what they need
Tow the party line
And you must tell them only
What they want to hear
Remember to always cater
To the lowest common denominator
*
Don’t expect them to think
Don’t ask them to examine
Their very own beliefs
Just spout New Age bullshit
That’s all they want anyways
*
And then some day they wonder
Where did all our leaders
Disappear to?
Where have they gone?
What caused the burnout?
Why did they leave us
Hanging in the wind?
*
So why even bother?
What’s the point of doing it?
Why spend back breaking hours?
And waste hard earned money?
And take time off from work?
*
They obviously
Do not deserve it
Respect it or want it
Anyways!
*
Do it for the father
Who hands his teenager
A book on Pagan ethics
*
Do it for the girl who
Is learning about the Goddess
And how to love the body in the mirror
*
Do it for the baby
Sitting in the Circle
Nawing on an acorn
*
Do it for the gods
Who want only to be
A part of our lives
*
Do it for a culture
Steeped in hate and ignorance
Arrogant and proud
Do it
To turn it into something
Worth living in
*
Do it for the planet
Our most sacred Mother
The rocks and the trees
The animals and bees
*
Do it to spite
Those narrow-minded idiots
Who never think to say
Thank you
Or please
*
So be a Pagan leader
Work your fingers to the bone
Expose your bleeding heart
Protect and serve
Give everything you’ve got
Give them all that you are
*
And when they bitch and moan
Just smile and tell them
Congratulations!
You just volunteered!
Liquid Sunlight
Oil is not blood
It is million year old Sunlight
Captured by the Earth
In liquid form
The good green things
Drink up the light
Photosynthesize
Die and decay
Buried and pressed
Digested by the land
And transformed over eons
Into liquid Sunlight
We with our opposable thumbs
Dig deep and greedily
Hungry and careless
Thirsty and addicted
Spoiled gluttons, never satisfied
Always wanting more
Like sociopathic children
We tear into our Mother’s body
Rip and rend
Slice and cut
We plunge long hungry hands
Through ocean-life-blood
Push greedy fingers into the soil
And suck out the liquid Sunlight
Buried within
With noisy machines
And without empathy
We penetrate and violate
We force our way in
We rape our own Mother
Remove the Sunlight within
To fuel our sick and twisted desires
To fuel our fires
To feed our noisy machines
To heat our homes
To make our lives easy
Because we are spoiled and greedy
To make this liquid Sunlight
Fuel our fires
We must pump toxic fumes
Into the Sky and the Air we breathe
The Oxygen we share with other living things
Which damages the thin layer called ozone
That protects us from the Sunlight
There are other ways
To fuel our fires
But we are too lazy, spoiled and greedy
To turn to them
And to learn new habits
Because we are addicts
Blinded by greed
The need to be comfortable
And the fear of change
We will keep digging deep
Until all the liquid Sunlight
Is gone
Burned up
Used up
No more
And then we will tear ourselves apart
Just wait and see
