Friday, June 24, 2022

Crow Call


Crow Call
(a 55)
We always wear black
the crows and I,
call our skies
with a half-born crack,
shadow nests where our treasures lie,
 eat skeleton suppers with glass-star eyes.
Never look back.
Never look back
at bones we've picked
bleaching dry,
at red we've beaked
with black tails high,
dead in the darkwood
with summer's sigh.

June 2022

posted for dVerse Poet's Pub

Images: Satellite 2014 ©Bryan Holland, via internet, Fair Use
Antlers, author unknown, via internet, Fair Use


Wednesday, June 8, 2022

Green Summer Country


Green Summer Country
"The sea turned to plain land, the snow on the mountain disappeared. In my eyes thousands of years fade like dust yet my heart is as before...I thought I had forgotten, but I remember everything" ~unknown, from the Mandarin

 I walk there in dreams,
the old summer country,
nave of a worship
where ice dies to green fire,
where we tended the world tree
whose roots wrap around
the well of the word;

where we bound the Great Wolf
with the trust of a god
made one-handed,
in the time when the mistletoe
was too young to swear oaths.
I walk there now, with
snow spirits warmed

in green shadow,
where the deer
sigh and surrender
to the arrow and its prayer,
where the Great Serpent gentled
belts the water around the wide land,
waves married to shore.
Where to eat is to be blessed
to love is to be whole
to suffer is to gain wisdom,
where bees make our wine,
where every leaf
hides the saga of a king.
My feet

wander lost, my throat blisters
when I wake to the Serpent unloosed,
the sea spoiled and untied,
the Wolf's bite tearing the snow 
from the mountains. My eyes
hold the dust of a thousand years
yet my heart

is the same.
I thought I had forgotten this;
I've forgotten nothing.

June 2022

 posted for earthweal's
Dreaming In Green hosted by Sherry Marr

Notes: The poem references figures from Norse mythology; Ygdrasil, Fenris,Jormungandr,Tyr, the story of Baldur. The transcribed quote at the header I heard last night while watching a serialized Chinese television drama.
Images: The Glenn, 1936, ©Maxfield Parrish  Public Domain
Jormangand, the World Serpent © Aleski Briclot  via internet Fair Use

Sunday, June 5, 2022

Breaking The Stone


Breaking The Stone
When I left the forest for a wilderness
of pillars, hexed by a tinsel covenant,
the moon cried for me. Pines sparked with
white gems of her longing. Minerva's owl
called my name three times; still
I chose the thrown shadows of a fire
that burned just out of my sight.
Sixteen years I followed shadows,
ate them, dressed in them, became
what was cast in front of me instead of
its birthing light. Stone I owned held no fire,
only chill when my foot left its face.The
pulling promise that scorched my hand
never could be grasped.

At last like a widow's first laugh,
there came the reaping breath of what is,
carousing down columns to lift
my short hairs with the brush
of owl's wings above me,
spread wide to carry me home.
Then the orphan moon

put away her tears
and blazed in the lavender sky.
Pine-wind recited in the meter of stars,
and I was their matchstick,
Gaia's fuse for a flameless firework
filling the amaranthine wood
against the dark end.
In my hand
I took the gift-feather
from the owl that called my name
and with it, wand and talisman,
without any heat at all,
I broke the stone.

June 2022

a draft poem for
Note: This poem could use some additional work, but I am posting it in its infant form til I can find what else it needs.
Images: Owl and Pillars, author unknown, via Sunday Muse Fair Use  Image source 
Owl and Moon, ©Alan Perry, via internet Fair Use