Wendy Rule's Concert, 31 Jan - 1 Feb 2018

To Andrew

The full moon singer

live on my computer

is in America, next to a mountain.

It's cold there. She is dressed

in warm black pants and jacket,

red beret and hiking boots.

She plans to see the dawn, 

she tells us, after her singing.

Here in Australia, it's midnight.

I'm still in sarong. The electric fans

are still blowing air around my living room.

The sky outside is black with cloud. 

Between songs, Wendy reminds us:

the blue moon blood moon super moon,

Leo moon of creativity and sovereignty,

is present though we cannot see.

So are you, whom I also can't see

except in my mind. When 

did you not celebrate full moon with me?

When did you not watch an eclipse

alongside me? When didn't we 

attend Wendy's concerts together, here

on her visits to this our magical home

under our own mountain?

I know your spirit is with me tonight

as she casts the circle. Here in the South 

it's Lughnasadh, aka Lammas, a time 

of early harvest. I gather up in thought 

blessings that form my harvest, including 

you and the times we had together.

In the Northern half of the world it's Imbolc,

beginning Spring: new life. And I renew.

For Midweek Motif  ~ Moon at Poets United.

Musician Wendy Rule, an Australian now based in Santa Fe, is also a witch who casts circle at all her concerts. You can still find this one on YouTube.

We Gathered in the Sacred Grove

We then fanned out into the forest, each of us picking a tree:

our brothers and sisters who, like us, love you, Goddess of Light.

Goddess of Shining Light, we see your radiance; let it be

that which awakens us from the fearsome horrors of the night.

You are arising and shining, Goddess of the Forest. See,

we are here, who adore you – you limpid flame, you flaring bright.

Each of us stands with a tree, side by side, sharing all we be.

It is a custom here, and so it seems to us good and right.

We sing with strong voices; our breath, helped by the trees, pouring free.

Joining together to love you, we become one in your sight.

This ancient ceremony

is yours: oh love, oh delight!

Written for the Meme prompt at 'imaginary garden with real toads': using the 7th sentence on page 13 of a handy book as inspiration for a love poem.

The first line of this poem is the sentence, or as much of it as was on the page. The book (read as an ebook, so page numbers don't necessarily conform to the paperback edition) is Fairies of the Wild Wild Moon by Vyvyan Ogma Wyverne. It seemed fitting, given the source, to make this a love poem to the Goddess.

It also seems to fit with Poets United's Midweek Motif ~ Nature: Her Words

And it's an attempt at the chanso form recently aired at Poetic Asides.

The Light Seems Holy

The light seems wholly blue when I look out

from my front door, discovering the day:

a day of starkly brilliant winter sun.

The dark blue mountain range right opposite, 

the vast and shining blue of morning sky,

pervade the street below. 'Thou art the one!'

I sing to Life (for God is Life, we're told).

On such a day, my soul must dance and fly

in sheer delight, pure joy that I was born.

This moment is the whole. This truth I hold:

all's one.

Written for a form challenge at Poetic Asides

Star

Star light, star bright –

working magic

to grant a wish,

her hands conjure

a puff of light.

The star of hope

still shines tonight

above the world 

of darkness,

far but bright.

From this long tunnel

we shall come out,

she promises,

her golden light

blowing kisses.

Good night, 

child of light.

A star is watching 

over you.

Sleep tight.

For Words Count with Mama Zen at 'imaginary garden with real toads', we were asked to pull a Tarot card and be inspired by it. The Star card does represent hope, optimism and the light at the end of the tunnel, which fits well with the idea of wishing on a star.

Also shared at Poets United's Poetry Pantry #358.

Image: the Star card from myTarot Muchas deck, used in accordance with Fair use.

Encountering Crows

Hekate’s birds: I know

when I see three, 

She is sending a sign

and I smile. 

I might be walking

I might be driving.

Either way, 

my black cloak

wraps around me 

etherically,

invisible to your sight.

But they see, the crows.

And She,

through their eyes,

looks and sees 
me.

Written in response to Fireblossom Friday : Corvid and sit a while, day 20 of April Poetry Month at 'imaginary garden with real toads'.

Image: public domain.