Thursday, September 17, 2009

Autumn is

Autumn Is

Autumn is
Cinnamon; spicy and bittersweet

It is
Burnt Umber, and harvest gold

It feels
Tired, and restless
And ready for slumber

Autumn is
Wood Smoke and warm sweaters

It is
Leaf piles, and school buses

It demands
Re-assessment, turning inwards;
Curling up

Autumn is
Closure; and new beginnings;
It is the fire of your Spirit
It is water that sustains you
Autumn is remembrance;
And planning,
And seeding,
And feeling,

Autumn is
Centering yourself

It is
Possibility, and promise

It demands movement
To center of the spiral

Autumn is within you
Embrace it


Sunday, September 13, 2009

In Praise of the Late Summer Sky (2009)  

Just a snippet I composed in New Hampshire this summer, after staring at the night sky on Lake Winnepausakee.

In Praise of the Late Summer Sky (2009)

Life provides exquisite moments of clarity;
it is a blessing to recognize them when they place themselves before you;
like a buffet waiting for you to sample your favorites or discover something new...

Last night I lounged and nibbled on the Milky Way as she spread herself across the moonless sky.
I cast wishes for future success and happiness as I reacquainted myself with shooting stars;
I shuddered with surprise and joy as the Loon's mournful call echoed across the lake...

I celebrated my ability to hear and see these gifts as the wonders they are--
moments out of ordinary life that allow me the perspective to be in the moment,
to enjoy all that I have,
and to seed the garden of my future.

Saturday, September 12, 2009


I wrote this one in 2006.


Do not despair. I speak
to you,
who desperately claws against
the blackness.

Why do you inhabit this life?

I know,
it seems a prison of disappointment.
Of sadness and failure.
I hear
your tortured whisperings.

What have you done in this life?

Or one past, to deserve this?
You are not alone.
I feel
what you feel.
I know the icy, soulless hands
that tighten around
your throat. Threatening,

To engulf you.
Why am I here?

I have traded my life;
Traded infinite bliss so that
I can save you.
I eat your sorrow; consume it and digest it.
I replace it with hope,
and the rainbow
of possibility.

Will I always be here?

For you, yes. And the others
who dare imagine I exist;
That I can be called upon
in times of
desperate need.

I am eternal.

"The Woods Spoke to Me"

This was my first published poem (aside from the contests I used to win as a kid ;-) ) It was published in newWitch magazine in 2003.

The Woods Spoke to Me

I should have been doing laundry,
but the Woods spoke to me thus-
Feel the dry, sad leaves
crinkle under your feet.
See if you can catch
the sigh they make,
Now that their lives are ending.
Resolute that they will rejoin the Mother
in a warm embrace.

Come, the Woods said, come…
Follow the flickering lights
as they dart through the branches.
The Sun does not penetrate here.

You are new to this place.
Don't your fingers ache
to touch these prickly bushes?
To discover the wild berries
that grow here?

Look how I've left myself
exposed for you.
Dropping the leaves,
letting dead branches fall.
Sucking back the vines and ferns
into myself.

Coyote will not harm you-
Fox is shy.
Squirrel will show you the way.
See him dancing for you
at the edge of the yard?
The brothers and sisters of the Woods
heed my commands.

Follow the broken light
into the shadows,
where your footing is unsteady.
Breathe in the crisp air,
the dank earth,
Let it nourish you.

Squint your eyes,
and you will see…
Me, the Lord of the Woods
in all my majesty.
Darting through the costumes
of the leaves-
Waiting for you.

Join me in this place
you know is home.
For you are kindred…

I should have been tending to the house.
But the Woods spoke to me.
Oh! The Woods spoke!

A snippet from my poem, "Interview with the Faerie, Part 1." I've begun shopping this one around, looking for a place to publish it.

The full text is LONG. 1,723 words long. Hence, the snippet.

He began:
Faeries are not all cute and innocent,
Like your people have suggested
for several hundreds of years.
We are not all female,
And harmless; with flowers for clothing
And cute, pointy ears.

We are not here for your amusement,
Or to do your bidding!
We are not about
Leaving dewdrops and sparkly dust.
Do not think you can control us…
We are not a race of beings you should trust…

At this point, to my surprise,
He pulled a small cigarette from somewhere…
(Within His breeches? Or by magic?)
And on cue, an armed dragonfly
zipped over to Him in a flurry of iridescent wings,
rubbed two legs together, and it lit.

‘Himself’ sighed and took a long draw….
Blew sweet smoke rings right in my face.
(UGH—I tried not to cough!)
“Your Highness,” I prompted
“What about the belief that Your people
Originate from the Emerald Isle?”

He raised a perfectly arched eyebrow,
Blew another puff of smoke at me,
And continued…
My people reside in Ireland, to be sure—
We have a long and colorful history there.
We defeated the evil Formorians eons ago,
And Our seed flourished in that fertile land
We were masters—and mistresses—
Until the humans set foot on Our sand.

My people and yours lived in harmony;
We took from you what we desired,
And in return shared Our magicks.
But some power-mad of your kind conspired,
with men who thought themselves “holy”
And you know what then transpired…

//end of excerpt//

Waddya think?? Comments welcome and encouraged. Whaddya think of the convention of using different typeface for the two 'voices'?

First Post

Need to post something to see how all this looks. THEN I need to try and not spend all of my free time in the next few days "tweaking" the appearance. Time that would be better spent writing, or doing other semi-useful things such as sleeping and going to work.

I should also mention that if you find this blog and my name sounds familiar, you may have been linked to my former blog, "a slice of reality," now defunct.