lightest butterflies
the sacred dark night settles
petals on lips, skin…
.
haiku
Category Archives: magic
power
witches are hard
core
soft
flesh
itchy with magics
inner
eye
on
full
.
haïku
.
p.s
all women are magic
all women are witches
so
let them be
blessèd be
man!
lapsong
home : ginger cat on
my lap , lapsong suchong in
my cup : can’t spell , but . . .
.
haiku
bubbles up
half-waist magic sun
sinks past thighs shivers timbers
rumbles up spine down
.
haiku
airy airy
what if the faeries
controlled everything ghost bells rose
smells midsummer’s dreams
.
haiku
within without
how to walk around
a mountain
attain a crown
allow new beliefs
.
haiku
…..the end
30 year illusion
my husband : the magician
sleight of hand ; a knife….
.
haiku
small howl
if i‘m quiet enough
perhaps shadow~wolf won’t find
me : ( she always does )
downstream
lost in the rhythm
arms tracing long ellipses
pulling something close
.
haiku
lady of Avalon
.
i dream i’m drowning
it’s an old one
but it no longer owns me
now i’ve come home to avalon
.
thoughts of rain awake me
the lady comes again for me
from across the levels blurred in
a banging of silver bangles
a breathing womb of grass and apples
a trembling of limbs still stuck in the suck
of muck-moist land that’s been drained for ages
until it rains; and it rains
.
she is ages older than me, yet young
she speaks an older tongue, voice
fizzy with dialects of scrumpy cider and musky crusts of ancient cheddar
echoes dance from dank chalk caves
wassail wassail wassail
and so it was
and so it is
.
i dream her lovely face
etched upon a sorrow of cloud
heavy as half a pound of moonlight
light as a fragrance of lemoncakes
i dream her silken garments
and steely armaments
reflected in the ancient lakes of this summer land
do you see me, she rasps
swirling me in underwater loves
she drags me to her breast where i rest
kisses the stone of my bones
unheeding of the summons of Merlin
defiantly ungifting trinkets to the kings
the legend of the lady
awaits a feminist twist
shhhh, she whispers, coming
and i dream myself asleep
.
not a haiku
.
ps
I moved the the isle of ancient avalon last year. Do you know where that is? Quite simply, Somerset in the West Country of the UK, near Glastonbury. I felt a pull to come here and so here am i. Still dreaming…
NaPoWriMo day 25
prompt is based on the aisling, a poetic form that developed in Ireland. An aisling recounts a dream or vision featuring a woman who represents the land or country on/in which the poet lives, and who speaks to the poet about it. Today, I’d like to challenge you to write a poem that recounts a dream or vision, and in which a woman appears who represents or reflects the area in which you live. Perhaps she will be the Madonna of the Traffic Lights, or the Mysterious Spirit of Bus Stops. Or maybe you will be addressed by the Lost Lady of the Stony Coves. Whatever form your dream-visitor takes, happy writing!
barbaraturneywielandpoetess 