Friday, November 19, 2010


Present Opening

Going forward
Lights and music
Swirling holiday cinnamon and myrrh
Taste of snowflakes
Crisp, cold, lively
Ballet nights, stories from afar
Joy becomes a hallmark
Friendly carolers decorate our doorways
Signs say peace is nigh
If we take the highroad,
ride sublime refrains
to the sky
Warm healing rays grow inside and out
Affirm this season of life is about finding that place
of release that allows us to fly
Soaring forward
Sparkling stars regale
Earthly gaze
Spin a spiral of joy
for the pleasure of all coming days

Winter Solstice

The darkness descends.
As we cry out for warmth and light
Our voices turn to spirit-imbued song
Our frantic movements against the cold
turn to ecstatic dancing.
We take comfort from each other's warmth
and celebrate the life within
struggling to survive.
'Tis the season to relearn the magic
As we share our heavy burdens
of fear and despair.
Joining hands, dancing 'round the fire,
we raise our sight to the sky
and each day,
the days get lighter.

Approaching Winter

Twinkling lights. I remember twinkling,
clouds resplendent awaiting snowfall.
It's Persephone's time below,
growing in power, regality.
Friend to post-living souls,
hearing their stories,
sharing her own,
from the above time.

Flitting about,
we sing seasonal phrases,
sweat anxiously in crowded malls
over inner demands for a never
remembered perfection.
Children standing in awe below
magnificence of glowing giant trees.
Cities return to primal forest
for an imaginary season.
Telling ourselves our stories that
Santa might find us worthy
of that shiny plaything that will
make us all right, make us happy.
Happy little children, so Mama
and Papa might be proud,
stop fighting,
tell us happy children stories,
take us back to the Garden.

Deep below, Persephone combs
her silken hair, long tangly
Magical petals of bliss and succulent aroma
lightly fall within the Garden walls.
The flowers are sleeping, blanketed in
millennial layers,
reverberations of stories,
plotlines thick with forest lore.
Snowflakes twinkle, lightly falling
drape long-growing trees
peacefully awaiting their Queen.

Lighting Candles

I wish you peace.
I wish you love.
I wish you time to
explore your essence.
I wish you safety.
I wish you patience.
I wish you visions,
sweet dreams and
sweeter days.
I wish the world
a sweeter disposition.
I wish for peace,
for love,
for better times.
I wish we all get
the wishes we yearn for.
I thrice charge these wishes
and send them to you.

Trees to Dream on

Pine mountain scent
majestic snow-globe memories
ancient beings twixt sky and earth
bask in waning sunlight,
twinkling night encroaching,
fluttering leaves cast
in white lace, starry splendor.
Long have we lived
cycling through death's rebirth,
seasons of land and sea linked
in living countenance open to
winds of fate and change.
Days have been when brutal cold
demanding sacrifice saw hunt and harvest.
Nights given to ceremony, eloping
frenzied dance, spontaneous gaiety
-- a tribal stew of sustenance
warm spirit and body
through the dark times,
built on timber, built on years
of sun, storm, forces claimed
and reconfigured to bring us here.
Reconnecting, anchoring to tales
told in firelight, warm wood, bright tinder,
holding ancient light, charms, secrets,
holding warmth to warmth,
life to life
year to year.

Winter Song O' Mother Sun

Winter homage to our waning Sun
that she will return, feeding us
with light and heat, sweet
Mother Star, we enchant
thee with ceremony, singing/dancing
in glorious pageantry at your feet,
a synergy of faith and formal prayer.
We are your children, refining
your gift of life, designing
grand structures, grander dreams,
imaging rainbows from your
streaming light;
see how our visions learn to take
under your warm embrace
and on through the night.
These long dark nights, we beseech you,
reach out to join our hands,
sharing warmth of your reflected love,
Mother Sun.

December Wine

Decant December wine
best saved for end
of the year
held in joy of anticipation
Traveling the hills on sleigh rides
of old
Reliving the thrills over
fine age and spirit
a day we hold dear
it is worth far more than gold
I see a star pale and strong
hear a wind
made of song
holy choirs singing
There is nothing wrong with desire
Wonders of will, of intensity
wild like the sweet breath
of winter
the joy of being alive

tis the season

As we strive through painful cold, treacherous dark,
dodging danger, palpitating heart,
anxiety our stark true friend
Dream of this season's end in joyful meeting,
reunion, reward.
Dream loving happy family, aglow
in warming fire, festive lighted tree.
Pocket snapshot from a gentler age,
we ache to reclaim.
Raise high the revelry of feast
and frolic, space for sacred play,
miraculous day to carry like inspiring song,
a beacon through the storms
yet to rage.
Live this vision
embracing grace.


Essence, scent memory
cinnamon, pine, family
wafting incense
fragrant air
redolent of antiquity's winds.

Trailing magick's mountain meadow
Hard, sharp, cragged, creviced
Exquisitely strong, enduring, scarred,
mending, calloused, engaging
Fingertips, skin, caress manifest existence.

Rippling bells, liquid voices drip
replenishing wine. Listen.
Reverberate back to the tribal pool.
Dancing drum beats, symphonic raining rivers.
Rise and quaff the choir's song.

In ritual visualize the distant dawn.
Hearths to unseen worlds fade before Sol's majesty.
Incandescent homunculus eyes opening to flame,
krinkling sparks, glowing.
Powerful torches burn through dark imagery.

Revel in flavor, mythic piquancy.
Peppery heat, sour sorrows, exotic ebullient stew.
Wisps of buttery dreams, savory bliss,
divine delicacies,
bittersweet ecstasy.

Opening Night

Empty branches yearn for
darkening breeze.
Eerie singing echoes
from the horizon.
Slower days, longer nights
made for reflection ...
And wind sings, trees dance,
stars laugh in the moonlight.

Winter's doorway

The magick of night
The clearness of cold
Stars glittering tales so old
Cradle, caress, with blessing
Saints, sages, wizards, mages
Message writ on high, when
We stop to see, to read.
Cold is a slowness, a force
of inertia, a space,
a pause in time.
Dark carries reflection -- any
fancied face or fortune
could be in reach.
Seasons speak
We call them moods or colours.
We feel passages, echo rites.
Children chasing Moonbeams
to believe in hope, joy, love
because we need the light,
the warmth, the colours.

1 comment:

  1. Beautiful poems! We'd love to have you submit to Poetic Monthly Magazine.