Ancestor journey

I don’t know your names

I don’t know your stories

I feel the call to know you 

But know not what to say

Journeying through eons past

Without a guide

Without a map

Back beyond years of conversion

To my true history


The Curse of the Growing Child

From grape seed to watermelon

I have carried you,

Nourished you,

Cradled your body within my own. 

As you cry out in the night, I wake

And stumble with blinding exhaustion

16 steps

-yes, I’ve counted-

From my bed to yours. 

Gently, gingerly,

I raise you to my chest, 

Your ear resting on my heart. 

You calm. 

Our nightly tango 

From crib side to comfy chair,

I raise you to my breast

And again

Cradle your body now against my own,

Nourish your body with my own. 

But now, as you continue to grow,

Night cries become coos

And needs only met by being held

Become self-soothing back to sleep. 

Relieved, I remain in bed. 


Jealous of the now stolen time 

As you fall back asleep

On your own. 

Such is the curse 

Of the growing child. 

Solstice poem

Our lovely family Yule tree,

Lit bright blue for all to see.

On Solstice night, will be aglow

As we listen for Heimdall’s horn to blow.

When the sun rises the following morn’,

We will take back all the warn’,

And for the next eleven nights

Celebrate the continuing light

For we continue to live,

Another year the Gods did give.

Blessed Be!

Keep The “SOL” In Solice

First wrote this in 2010

The juices are flowing!

I didn’t write the poem from yesterday, yesterday. I wrote it last week, in response to the “fire” prompt over at The Pagan Experience for the first week of May. I meant to post it Monday to align with their schedule. But time slipped past me and I didn’t get around to it. I didn’t even remember I wrote it until early this morning when a line from the poem came back to me.

Typing it out this morning kick started something…I already have the post for the next The Pagan Experience prompt written and scheduled for Monday morning.

The juices are flowing and the floodgates are open!

(The following is a preview of the themes for my post on Monday)

Plug In Your Soul

Noisy static

Trying to interfere-

Distractions from what is important,

Distractions from what is real.








Time keeps passing,






For fulfillment in the static.

Unplug your life,

Let it all fall away:

Meaningless nothing

Noisy static

Cancerous distractions

What’s left is what’s real:

Deep down in your being,

Plug in your soul.

Turning Wheel

Last night as I was falling asleep, I had a poem flow through me. I stubbornly decided I was awake enough at the time of its inception that I would be able to remember the whole thing in the morning. Alas…I had bits and pieces and one line from each stanza. What I remember: sunshine through the leaves, the word “canopy”, “birdsong in the distance”, “gold and auburn dancers”, “bare and barren bark”, and the idea and imagery of buds stretching and reaching towards the sun. Using that, here is what I have created:

Turning Wheel
Bathed in sunlight,
Look up to the canopy.
Full, thick, green.
Here and there come sunbeams
Directly to my face.
Birdsong in the distance,
Nature’s my embrace.
Bathed in sunlight,
Look up to the canopy.
Gold and auburn dancers
Flit and flutter down,
Circling round to rest at my toes.
Critters rustle in the distance,
Nature’s my embrace.
Bathed in sunlight,
Look up to the canopy.
Bare and barren bark is left,
No signs of life to see
As all is resting through the cold.
Silence ringing in the distance,
Nature’s my embrace.
Bathed in sunlight,
Look up to the canopy.
Buds explode, reaching for the sun
Excited for this new cycle
And new life that’s just begun.
Birdsong in the distance,
Nature’s my embrace.