Breath, fog and raindrops Seeping into my soul My eyes turned upwards Toward the promise of the clouds While my feet Are drenched in mud puddles Sending shivers deep Into my bones
The view from my room Is spattered with raindrops In the heartbeat of the rain I can see dams breaking Sweat dripping down Dampened bedsheets Arms outstretched People under somber umbrellas Separated by their fears
Today I vividly recall The embrace of the grim reaper Today I remember the sharp nick Of his kiss upon my soul His passion distracts me From the Truth Life is too fleeting and fragile To remain face down Spewing out mouthfuls of dirt
The bridges you’ve burned smolder behind me Staining the innocence of a bright new day Through the thick, dark smoke of brokenness I see the outline of new bridges [to jump from, cross over or burn to ashes] Shimmering and swaying in the distance, Whispering promises that make a mockery of my fears Looking over my shoulder one last time I see the bridge where you faltered Refusing to cross over onto solid ground with me Within the blink of an eye it vanishes A mere specter in the realm of what could have been Before you succumbed to your predilection For gasoline and matches
The Serpent Goddess winds up your spine Wrapping around your wounded heart Evoking cool ocean breezes Followed by the heat of the desert sun A wild taste of freedom shoots upward Engaging every inch of your existence In a sensual dance Droplets of blood rain fall steadily Washing away all your pain Colors flash through your cerebral cortex Fiery red flashes of anger Indigo black ripples of peace Sea green waves of bitterness Amber orange rays of hope
You become an Old World lizard A hungry panther An Indian Star tortoise bridging heaven and earth
An angel with steely wings Swoops in Challenging your beliefs Pitting itself against your humaneness Pressing sharp talons into your flesh
Shape-shifting You become billows of smoke Purging and cleansing Your tortured soul
You are a crystal clear river now Flowing fiercely and freely Calmly and powerfully Kundalini’s work is done
Kundalini (the Hindu Serpent Goddess) rests like a coiled serpent at the base of the spine. When her dormant energy is released, it flows upward through the seven chakras, leading to an intensely cathartic process and deeply altered states of consciousness, known as a Kundalini Awakening.
In Kabbalah (Jewish mysticism), the serpent exists to reveal our ego-centric illusions and awaken us to the false narratives that block our access to Expanded Consciousness (mochin d’gadlut), Divinity and Self-Repair.
L’chaim and cheers to Open Link Night at dVerse and our gracious host, Grace.
I dwell in shade Engulfed by grays No color palette to Enliven my days Shadows take hold Where my life enfolds I have no rainbows To enliven my soul All my words drift Into soundless mist I look into the mirror And I don’t exist
I have no face I’ve been erased All that I am is pain-filled space
Into this hallowed chamber, harshness enters, bruising my knees, weighing down my outstretched arms, despair descends, as icicles in frozen air, angels witness, etched into panels of stained glass, taunting voices whisper, mocking my faith, drowning out the chorus of prayers.
The face of your image looms, burned into my naked flesh, i arise! in defiance of, this sham salvation, the angels shiver, trembling against fragile glass, shattering the panes, into bright pieces of sharpened resolve.
Forsaken supplication, slivers of fractured sunlight, filtered through stained glass, warming her fragile flesh~ Swaying with bended knees, in this primordial House of God, walls whispering tales of ancient lust~ Encased in prayer she awaits, invocations in The Holy Tongue, escaping unbidden from her lips~ Her soul cries for release and vindication, corporeal scars uncovered, her robes turned to ashes and dust~ The Bride enters, a likeness cloaked in amber shadows, formed from shards of brokenness~ Secrets of suffering revealed, in rivulets of tears, carving patterns, into time worn stone
Cheers to dVerse Poet’s Pub and bard, Bjorn. We are prompted to be inspired by the song-writing imagery of Bob Dylan. I chose the “Girl From The North Country” as my inspiration. Didn’t you wonder what happened to her? Now you know! Dylan lyrics below:
If you’re traveling the north country fair
Where the winds hit heavy on the borderline
Remember me to one who lives there
For she once was a true love of mine.
If you go when the snowflakes storm
When the rivers freeze and summer ends
Please see if she has a coat so warm
To keep her from the howlin’ winds.
Please see if her hair hangs long
If it rolls and flows all down her breast
Please see for me if her hair’s hanging long
For that’s the way I remember her best.
I’m a-wonderin’ if she remembers me at all
Many times I’ve often prayed
In the darkness of my night
In the brightness of my day.
So if you’re travelin’ the north country fair
Where the winds hit heavy on the borderline
Remember me to one who lives there
She once was the true love of mine
The Morrigan — shape-shifting Celtic Raven Goddess of War, Death and Fate. She is the patroness of night, magic, revenge and prophecy. She presides over rivers and lakes. She is sometimes known simply as The Raven Goddess.
In the Tanakh (Hebrew Scriptures), the raven is the first bird Noah sent out, before the dove. Ravens are also said to have provided the prophet Elijah with food. (Melachim I – I Kings – Chapter 17).
Cheers to dVerse and our host Bjorn. We’re delving into cubism as a poetry form, where many small poems are written on the same object with a shift of perspective, that provides context as a whole.
A mere shadow of my former self Moves invisibly through rooms full of people Existing on a plane rarely detectable to others Slipping into a sea of inky darkness My sliver of a shadow cries Remembering how she once dreamed Of emerging to greatness
Mankind, I shall see you again standing at the entrance to the Rainbow Bridge waiting for direction feet traversing stepping stones on a new horizon where Spirit will awaken the drumbeat of sorrow at what you have wrought tears shall overflow your eyes as you behold our magnificence your soul will tremble with the cadence of pain as you gaze upon the Medicine Wheel you have desecrated and the feather of the Great Spirit you have so carelessly trampled here, within the Sacred Hoop we are your teachers we are your healers we are the stewards of your fate
Raindrops glistening like diamonds mined from human tears my faith turned into an empty closet full of lies broken promises amassing into piles of old bones listening in vain for familiar footsteps throwing the feathers of broken wings into the fireplace transforming them into smoke signals singeing the sunset with Your name
I am the ruler of the underworld I am a heavenly body I have been a muse since time immemorial Countless sonnets were inspired by my reign I go by the names of Snow, Hunger, Wolf, Flower, Harvest, Hunter, Blue and Crow I am the light within the shadows I am the endings before new beginnings I rouse your passions I bring solace to your soul I am there in your darkest hour I rule over transitions and balance I am life and death I am the embodiment of reap and sow
I am the rhythm of the earth bridging all seasons Wolves speak to me in ancient tongues Sea captains hunger for my guidence Oceans rise and fall under my sway Tides succumb to my pull I am the power of love and madness I am the magic and I am the spell I bear witness to your sins and secrets I am the keeper of your regrets and hopes
Seek my wisdom and I will give you… The gift of transformation Call upon me and I will teach you… The eternal cycle of harvesting and letting go I am reincarnation I am feast days and festivals I am She who has always existed I am more powerful than the sun I am Lady Luna I am the Shekhinah I am Maiden, Mother, Crone
“One who blesses the new moon every month is one who greets the Shekhinah and brings Her down to shine upon us.”
Rabbi Yochanan/Babylonian Talmud Sanhedrin 42a
In Jewish thought, the Shekhinah is the Divine Earth Mother, the Divine-who-dwells-within and our redemption from the underworld — meaning the pain of our human condition and our dark nights of the soul.
Snow, Hunger, Wolf, Flower, Harvest, Hunter, Blue and Crow are names given to full moon phases in Native American cultures, reflecting the nature of each season.
My bit of creative luna~cy in honor of dVerse and Grace.
A jar dances upon the bubbling froth, right on the edge of a trail of footprints. The battered jar, containing all of her joy and dreams, now resides with broken sea shells, lost among a million grains of sodden sand, still waiting to be found.