Poems
Questions for a Fox
When did the fox come?
And when did he leave?
Why did he come only in my dreams?
A visitor in a little girl’s sleep
Why did he leave and has not been seen?
I miss running down that path
On four paws with him in the lead
The lessons that he gave me
Once they were learned
He simply never returned
Why does crow follow me?
And leave feathers for me?
My childhood friend
The children on the playground
I kept to myself, with crow
And his murder at the other end
On my shoulder he perches
I don’t trust him with my eyes
I fear he might make me blind
And what would he show me then?
What bird would owl have been
If I had known him for his self?
The brown little bird
Who flew from Her hands
Perhaps he would have been a wren?
But he is an owl instead
Does it really matter then?
Is owl even a male?
I ask his name
The title for a goddess he gave
And yet he seems a he
As he sinks his talons into me
And makes me shove things in my chest
Waiting Underground
by patti smith, oliver ray
*
if you believe all your hope is gone
down the drain of your humankind
the time has arrived
you’ll be waiting here as I was
in a snow-white shroud
waiting underground
there by the ridge be a gathering beneath the pilgrim moon
where we shall await the beat of your feet hammering the earth
where the great ones tremble
in their snow-white shrouds
waiting underground
if you seek the kingdom come, come along
waiting by the ridge there’ll be a gathering
beneath the pilgrim moon
where the railroad thunders
oh where we shall await the beat of your feet hammering the earth
and as the earth resounds where the great ones tremble
and your humankind becomes as one
and then we will arise
in our snow-white shrouds
when we’ll be as one
but until that day we will just await
in our snow-white shrouds
waiting underground
in our snow-white shrouds
waiting underground
copyright © druse music, inc./yam gruel music 1997
Repost: I am Not a Real Witch
I am not a real witch
I am not a proper pagan
No, not even
When I rise with the dawn
And greet signing birds
And walk my hounds upon the mountainside
I am not a real witch
I am not a proper pagan
Not even when I speak to the land
Not even when I listen to the wind
Nor when I watch the Sun cross southern skies
And mark the Moon’s fall and rise
I am not a real witch
I am not a proper pagan
No, not even when I praise the thunder
Or dance with the ebb and flow
Of many tides
I am not a real witch
I am not a proper pagan
Not when spirits follow my steps
Through summer woodlands
Or brush my heels on moonlit trails
I am not a real witch
I am not a proper pagan
Not even when gods answer my call
For I have answered theirs
Not when I farm my land
Or lend an animal a helping hand
I am not a real witch
I am not a proper pagan
You see
Because I have no initiation to speak of
No puppy papers to prove my lineage… Continue reading →
The Dance
As above, so below
Cernunnos at my right hand
Herne at my left
A goat foot god
Lights the fire within
And so I dance the frenzied dance
In an imperfect circle formed in trance
I spin like a top
I blaze like the sun
I wheel as the stars above my head
Dizzy, thirsty, hungry, horny
Ah, my twisted love
What agony and ecstasy you bring
That if ever snatched away from me
I should never want to breathe again
(stay tuned for updates & info on the Horned God devotional anthology I have submitted works to … which reminds me, GET BACK TO WORK!)
Repost: 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… Continue reading →
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