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Pagan Poetry 1998

She Is the River, and So Much More

Oshun: Serenity She is,
Serpentine as the river,
Graceful as the gazelle.

Oshun: Abundance She is,
Sweet as honey,
Spicy as cinnamon.

Oshun: Magic She is,
Powerful as the thunderclouds,
Subtle as the fog.

Oshun: Love She is,
Fierce as the leopard,
Gentle as the quail.

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And He Is the Moon Too

So many legends tell the tale of Lady Moon
But sometimes in the sky
I see
A silver-eyed gentleman, merry and brave,
And He is the Moon too.
The Sun is His sister; red-gold and glorious,
Fierce beyond compare, wild lioness of daylight.
But the night is His,
Where He walks in solitude swinging His lantern as He goes
Dreaming a shaman's dream through the long, cool hours.

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Her Lover, the Moon

Behold the Mother, bountiful Sun
From whom all Earthly things proceed,
Giver of light and life.
Behold, too, Her lover the Moon
Who shines with Her reflected grace,
Giver of dreams and meaning.
She is the source of warmth and glory;
He is quicksilver coolth, introspection and peace.
She is the inspiration, He is the song.
He rides the ghostly tides of Her wind
In the night sky
And guides Her sleeping world
While She shines on the other side.
Always some part of Him lies within Her sight,
Eternally cherished, forever caressed.

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Maiden Gifts

Maiden Moon setting in the blood-red west
A-sail on the sunset:
Bow of boat, curve of breast
Silver hair flowing, teeth sharp and wet
Like the smile of a sword.
She knows no man as yet
And lies with a lady, not a lord
When she looks for love before night's rest.

Wild-eyed Goddess, lend us your grace and speed
When of Maiden gifts we find ourselves in need.

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Old Woman Moon

I know your name, Old Woman Moon --
I saw your face last night,
A fingernail past full.
You left the world all sheathed in white
Beneath your cloak of wild goats' wool.

Between the Hunter and the Spoon
I saw you as you rose,
Bright mirror in the sky.
What would they say, do you suppose,
If they should hear us, you and I?

I do not heed the scoffers' tune;
Against its raucous note
I fold my supple ears,
For I have seen your silver boat
That sails beyond the sea of tears.

I know each crater, crest, and dune
Whose edges in the sun
Make stark and lovely lace
And I can name them, one by one,
That mark the features of your face.

Through eastern clouds you will rise soon.
Why do I wait for you,
Glass of my darkling eye?
No lie exists you can't pierce through
And I have heard your lullaby.

So soft at first I hear your croon
Come gliding on the wind,
A whisper in a maze.
It speaks of magic without end.
I lift my head; you meet my gaze.

Black branches cast a shadow rune
In silence at my feet.
I look; I learn; I grow.
This happens every time we meet
In fields abloom or woods of snow.

Frost-feathers white as geese in June
Lend splendor to the ground.
You give me all I need
As free as frost falls all around,
Whose plumage decks out every weed.

Through patient hours we commune
Together now at last.
You crest the highest hill.
The hasty zodiac whirls past.
I think we'll keep our secrets still.

The world dreams on, and sharp thoughts swoon
On every side beset
By mysteries galore.
Let's walk these woods a while yet;
Lean close, my Queen, and teach me more.

I know your name, Old Woman Moon;
You hold mine too in trust.
You bless the world below;
Your touch is sure, your reason just ...
So fill me till I overflow.

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Red Moon Rising

Red moon rising in the east
Blood moon floating up through wine-rich clouds
Waning moon closes the neck of her womb
Against the stars' bright seed,
Crossing the threshold from Mother to Crone.
Now she crouches,
Grinning,
Lodged in the gate of dreams.

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Beseeching Her Benevolence:
An Elemental Invocation to Earth

Watch and ward, guide and guard
Earth's verdure, stone so sure

Safely shield, power wield
Stark and strong, right from wrong

Bright Her bloom, rich Her womb
Wide Her arms, green Her farms

Sweet Her face, great Her grace
Firm Her hands, lush Her lands

Mountain's peak, deserts bleak
Valley's fold, plains of gold

Forests deep, hills that keep
Canyons wide, walls of pride

Furrows barred, stone so hard
Watch and ward, guide and guard
Lady starred, hunter Lord
Guide and guard, watch and ward.

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Come, Toad

-- a spell to encourage toads to dwell in one's garden

Toad,
your jeweled eyes
hold gems of wisdom:
I can see them shining
in the amber depths,
set in bronze.

Your skin is ugly
but tough; it protects you
from the blazing sun
that would steal your breath.
Rest here in my garden:
it is cool and moist.

See, I have made you
a flowerpot house
here in the shade.
Green moss grows over
and around it. Tasty bugs
hover endlessly near.

Come, Toad,
make your home here
in my humble garden.
Eat your fill of insects,
soak in the fountain,
shelter in the shade.

Only let me,
from time to time,
lose myself in your eyes,
in their endless wisdom.
Come, Toad,
be welcome.

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Spirit Ears

Stones speak a slow language,
A long language,
Full of words the size of days
Through which minutes flit like minnows.
If you would learn from them,
You must sit and listen
With your heart fixed open
Like the shutter of a stargazer's camera.

For stones have words
That capture ideas broader than a human conversation
And if you would catch them you must open your mind
To time and life and the soft sound
Of stars humming to themselves in the dark. Then,
Beyond the Earth's heartbeat, you may discover
The slow conversation of stones,
Their voices adamant,
Crystalline,
Veiled in secrecy, lit from within
By splendor.

Abandon motion,
Remember the elements within you
And their many trips through stone.
Recall your kinship with crystal and bid them remember
You, distant relative of All That Is.
Grow spirit ears
Long as a donkey's, keen as a deer's
To hear the words of wisdom
That reside in rocks.

Once you learn their language,
The philosopher stones will answer any question
You have the patience to ask.

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Under Your Heart, Earthmother

I grew strong
Over the ages
And now
Womb of Earth,
I remember your caress
As you held me close
So many lives ago --
You cradle me no less now
That I walk upon you
Rather than lie within you
And so
I give thanks
To you, my Mother,
For carrying me so far
Under your heart and above it.

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Believe, O Dreamer

Believe, O Dreamer,
That your dreams are real
For they cast long shadows
In the waking world,
Whether or not you have the eyes to see
The far horizons of their shade.

Believe, O Dreamer,
What you hear in dreams
For it whispers of a deeper truth
Than daylight's ears could bear.

Believe, O Dreamer,
What your nose knows in dreams
For in this rich dimension
Evil reeks
Like fish washed up by wild tides
And kindness smells of roses.

Believe, O Dreamer,
Those tastes you tongue in dreams
For be they bitter
Or be they sweet, they come to you
With reasons.

Believe, O Dreamer,
The subtle wisdom of your skin
For a hairshirt brings only misery
Where silk brings supple magic
And anyway you can shift your skin
In this pliant region.

Believe, O Dreamer,
The things you do in dreams
For they will change your life
No less
Than any act the sun has seen.

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Summerbelly

Drowse of heat and drone of bees
Hush of breeze through flowers sweet ...

See Her there, where She reclines
Under vines, Her dark brown hair

Tumbled free across Her breasts.
Now She rests, but you can see

Belly swells, with new life round:
Without sound, the tale it tells.

Goddess great, our Lady Bright,
Queen of Light and Hand of Fate

Holy Snake, pray show us now,
Sacred Cow, what dreams You make

Belly high, in fertile womb,
Secret tomb of earth and sky.

Year's lush peak, abundance reigns
Fecund plains yield what we seek.

Season's grace, Earthmother knows --
Fluxes, flows -- to bless this place.

Summer's daze through sleepy wood:
Promise good by greenworld's praise.

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Mist and Stone:
What Makes a Wanderer

My heart is made of mist and stone,
My soul of seven flowers;
I walk from world to world alone
And count the quiet hours.

My feet are made of wanderlust,
My hopes of blooming heather;
My memories are stars and dust,
My moods bend like the weather.

I follow dreams through fields of green
And stalk through woods of umber;
My eyes are made of gemstones keen
Plucked from their earthen slumber.

The crooked path calls out my name;
I laugh, and run to answer --
For days and nights are fair the same
To this between-worlds dancer.

What matter if I go this way
Instead of where I headed?
Could be the gods have helped me stray
From something I'd have dreaded.

My hands are made from butterflies,
My words of silk and honey;
I kiss the rain when down it sighs
And sing when it turns sunny.

I braid the trails of ancient ways
Together as I wander;
My thoughts are horses, blacks and bays,
Forever going yonder.

My luck is made of buttercrumbs,
My grief a switch of willow,
My joy the sound of pipes and drums
My goals the clouds that billow.

The worlds, they change as I go through;
I smile to see them shifting
Like waves upon the ocean blue
That only live by drifting

My lives are made of gossamer,
My deaths are brief soap-bubbles;
My peace a pussy-willow's purr,
A certain end to troubles.

My magic is a rainbow's song,
My power clear and clever;
My choice the journey sweet and long
That stretches on forever.

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Candles Calling to the Dead

An invocation/candle ritual

We honor you,
Our own beloved dead,
On this night of all nights
On this Night of All Souls.

We place a candle in each window
For love of you,
That their fair light
May lead you home.

We light a silver candle
For the Blessed Lady
And a golden candle
For Her Noble Lord

We light an orange candle
For the fading autumn
And a purple candle
For the robes of wisdom

We light a red candle
For love everlasting
And a yellow candle
For remembrance

We light a white candle
For each of you:
(say the name aloud as you light the candle)

We light a blue candle
For spirit and those of you
Whose names we do not know:
(describe them by type of death: "Those
who died in the Burning Times, Those
who died of starvation" and so on)

Be with us now,
Beloved dead,
The named and the unnamed
Alike:
We love and honor you all.

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Timbre

Falling in the forest
Rising in the field,
Sweet music spun from the notes
That lie between sorrow and laughter,
A scale like dragon's gold a-glitter in the sun:
Fair, and perilous, and alluring
As the dreams of autumn twilight.
For this is the world's voice,
And its whispers haunt the hallowed halls
Of every wood.
What emerald mysteries
Seep through its silence?
What golden notions sleep in its tones?
Wisdom, like water,
Seeks its own level.
The dream breeds true in pollen's tawny paws.
The seasons dance to the beat
Of a secret drum.
A wild melody
Teaches harmony to the trees.
It grows on you,
In you, as the notes descend through your bones
To vibrate somewhere near your soul
So that whenever a tree falls in the forest
You hear a cry of
Timbre.

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Brink of Dreams

Go down,
Into the shallows,
And drink from the sea of dreams.

Foam and shadows swirl
About your ankles
Intimate, insistent.

Azure waves roll
From belly to back,
Beckoning.

Sapphire drops
Fall from your fingers,
Bead on your bare skin.

Naked, you dare to walk
The soft sands of this beach,
The subtle and clinging sand.

Here, on the brink of dreams,
The siren's song rings sweet and true:
A promise beyond price.

Music rises and falls
With the waves,
Like the pace of a poem.

The breakers gleam
In the moonlight,
Silver smiles on the sea's dark face.

Tremble, then,
In the silken shallows
At the far edge of night and quiet.

The magic shivers on your skin
Like beads of water
Or a sheen of mist.

The stars burn overhead:
Ruby and sapphire,
Topaz and diamond.

The moons call your name,
Reading it from secret scrolls --
They know you well.

Kiss the wind goodbye,
Take one last breath of sanity,
Then fling it screaming to the wild night.

Dive deep,
Into the sea of dreams,
Swimming between hope and danger
... if you dare.

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White Shell Daughter Speaks to Oshun

River Hips, You remind me
Of ultimate abundance
As I walk softly here
By the chocolate-colored water
Under the deep green cottonwood trees
Through their summerstorm drift of seed-puffs.

Water Mama, You teach me
Such patience as even stones admire,
Here where the river wears them smooth through seasons
Of flood and sun, flowers and frost.

Curvy Girl, You show me
The sensuality that is every woman's birthright
As you caress the beaches and the high banks,
The reaching tree-roots and the supple ripples of sand,
The cool clay and satiny silt and rocks still coarse from the field.

Hushlove, You tell me
Secrets in the subtle sigh of water on shore,
Wisdom in the rush of river through willows,
Laughter in the flurry of foam over rapids.

I watch.
I listen.
I am a pearly shell
Waiting for You to fill with riches.

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Comments?

Art on this page is from the "Whiteflower" set, at Winter's Pages

The URL for this page is http://www.worthlink.net/~ysabet/spirit/paganpoe_1998.html and it was last updated on July 9, 2000.

Pagan Poetry 1998

Beseeching Her Benevolence: An Elemental Invocation to Earth

Mist and Stone: What Makes a Wanderer

Beseeching Her Benevolence:
An Elemental Invocation to Earth

Mist and Stone:
What Makes a Wanderer