Friday, February 27, 2009

Auld Ways

White light flows
around your very being.
Energy surges
crackles in mid-air.
Stop the calling dance
center and stand here.
Head tilting back
palms turned upward
bask in the moons glow.
Feel the pull.
Quench the thirst.
Gather it all down
deep within the soul.
Auld ways beckon.
Call forth... the air.
Balance sent on arrows of light.
From within... bring fire.
Hear the ancient ones shout.
Feel it tremble & shake; scatter, the
The storm has begun.
Brought forth, falling gently, the rains water.
My brothers and sisters,
As above, so below
With thy will, it is done.
So mote it be.


For Juli..

As Above

Surround me ancient ones,
feel my energy
circle and rise.

Moon goddess,
guide me,
as I re-learn to fly.

I call… Earth
to shift and move the willows
Let their branches bow and dance
as I do before them.

I call… Air
to lift and stream through my dark hair
Let it flow free and wild
untamed like my heart.

I call… Fire
to ignite and burn brightly
Let the flames release white energy
into the depths of my soul.

I call… Water
to shed and fall from dark eyes
Let the past go, be one in the present
breathe the future.

Throughout Ostara eve,
wood nymphs fed the fire,
soft air blew heated embers
into the misty night sky.

Sun god,
watch me,
as I now take flight.


I hate that term... newbie but I guess that's what I am. New to blogging and setting up this account and page. blah. One should never do it while sick. I spose most of this blog will be taken up with my mindless meanderings and what I call poetry. Poetry first... my latest and greatest.

Sacred Sword

Virgin steel offered up from dark mountains
Embraced by dancing flames; licked
Seductively by fiery hot embers
Maintained by a gentle kiss from the
North winds.

On the anvil of truth and knowledge
Spitting sparks fly; repeated ring of
Turning steel pounded flat
By old hands holding the gods hammer.
Glowing steel screams and hisses
As icy spring waters cool its heat.
Return to the dance once more.

Forged steel lays flat, curved,
Sharpened by aged spinning stone.
Silver sheen polished; smooth as crystal
Etching sacred writ spoken in lilting
Tongues by the auld ones.

Braided leather encases the hilt
Awaiting the chosen one.
Sacred sword spins
In the hands of the Lady…
Who waits.

So there it is... This is what I do when there is not enough time to write on my current WIP and when I am procrastinating writing on my current WIP.

Stephy's meanderings... HA!