Poem: The Unwinding

this thing I must do
when the door is closed,
the deadbolt turned
the workday world
a memory
when I have supped,
the cuppa brewed
and I, alone awake;
the night a curtain drawn
to hide the whispers
only I can hear, for I
the sole survivor of
the passing day
in silence stir
the stillness of
unuttered prayer
this candle lit
this incense burned
this tea a potion
given by this tired woman,
poured out libation
to the hungry creatures
of time that eat away
the sweetness of youth,
devouring the folly
of old mothers
held together by sheer
will, and Will herself,
the mother of my destiny
and father of my might

©15 June 2019

Image from: https://www.oldbookillustrations.com/illustrations/enchantress-begins/

Poem: the magick of reading

I read because words

are magick, we

became human

with the first utterance

in the beginning

there was the word, and

the word was with god,

and the word was god

the spell was cast, and

words became creation

became destruction, become

death;

black magick

magick has no moral,

no intent, and word

wisely wielded become

palliative, become

restorative

become nativity;

white magick

behold the chalice

of knowledge, break

the bread of fear

eat, for hunger is

your nature; drink,

for you will always

thirst

appetite for gnosis

is only sated when

the magick is consumed

(c) 4.28.18

2016 National Poetry Month Poem Seventeen of Thirty: Destinations

early conversations
with the past
reveal gateways
to future
destinations

Photo & Poem (c) 4.17.16