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Archive for the ‘Poetry’ Category

I’m not sure why, but the Spirit within has wanted me to stop writing on here. What happens now needs to be between my Gods and me. I have already stopped writing so much and I thought I owed it to everybody to have one more post before I go.

Spiritually, I have stepped through a door and it is dark. I’m not sure what lies ahead. I’ve never felt like this before but I must keep listening intuitively and thinking with my heart. I suppose I did not eventually feel connected to my own practice when I felt like I wanted to take pictures all the time to share on here. I suppose that my poems, once between me and the Goddess, I started to look at too much to see what I could share. Sometimes, we over-extend ourselves in trying to spread out little pieces of our souls in hopes of helping others. I want to take the ego out of my intentions, too.

What I am supposed to be doing: Singing alone and to others. Painting alone and for others. Counseling myself and for others. Feeding myself and for others. But I need to take back my writing and my magick, for the time being and be alone with it. It needs to stay in solitude. It needs to be humbled and dynamic. It needs to be my own secret. It is the womb of my own creativity and the womb is dark like the black soil that supports all new growth.

If you have ever read my blog and was in anyway inspired- I am so glad. If you have ever liked or commented- I am so appreciative. I am also thankful to my husband, who supports every journey I partake in. Talking to the outside world has been good for me. Growing up in a family of hermits I did not know how to stretch myself into opening up to the world. Writing this blog has been a wonderful adventure that has helped baby-step me into performing on stage and connecting with people from all over the world. So thank you- thank you for being a part of this experience. Maybe someday, when I’m an old woman who has already experienced what the world has to offer and the Spirits tell me I’m ready- I will be back. But for now, I welcome simplicity,  I welcome the light of true fire to warm me. Let my thoughts be my own.

Brightest Blessings, Cicada

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We are the Ancients

There are beings across the hills

who speak their names through streaming swills:

“Remember, Remember

We are the Ancients

We are the Ancients.

They walk the clouds with their drums

of solid misty darkened hums:

“Remember, Remember

We are the Ancients

We are the Ancients.

It humbles men to hear their call

a sound loud enough to make us fall:

“Remember, Remember

We are the Ancients

We are the Ancients.

A story swept away by centuries

all listen between hoof and wing:

“Remember, Remember

We are the Ancients

We are the Ancients.

Storm song raging in the west

we huddle closely in our nest:

“Remember, Remember

We are the Ancients

We are the Ancients.

Primal blood of the sky

we honor the ancient thunder cry:

“Remember, Remember

We are the Ancients

We are the Ancients.

– Bonnie Waller (Cicada)

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I am feeling myself emerging from my cocoon with new wings and ideas. New definitions of who I am and what the world is have begun to sprout and soon I will be taking my first flight into unknown territories.

bel fire

Since Beltane night I have been exploring what it is to journey with transformation in mind. All of us evolve and shift our ideas and actions over our life times. Welcoming growth and life-affirming change is needed on a continual basis in order to stay away from the stagnant waters of our soul.

So what have I been doing? Well, let me tell you who I used to be at 13… I was a wild child of the woods, a fierce lover of anyone I could get my hands on and make-believer in the true world of unseen mystery. I sneaked out during summers to see the heat lightning dance above the fields. I stole away to ponds and rivers to write poetry and make my offerings of teenage kisses to nymph queens and kings.

And then I became older (wiser?)… all of the things I thought I was working for came to be: married my perfect man, had our perfect kids and a part of me became paranoid that something that was so wild in me was too impulsive for my comfy home life. But the wildness has never left me- I don’t think it can- it comes out in my laughter, tears, blood and sweat and magic. It reminds me in the thunder’s song as I try to sleep at night. It haunts me until I let it out through my art, my writing, my songs, my fierce fire when I become outraged about a worldly injustice. (Seriously, what is going on out there??)

Facing my fears of wild… Cougars have begun to roam again in Illinois again, too. After over 100 years they are back. The chances of running into one is rare. The chance of being killed by one is even rarer (19 people have been killed in the last 100 years). However, a fear so deep has struck me. I have been finding myself scared to go into the woods alone lately- but my wildness refuses to leave me alone. My body aches to be out among the dense trees- listening to their mysteries. I have decided that to live a life away from the woods is no life for me. So I have studied on how to act if I see a cougar  (don’t make eye contact, walk away slow but never turn your back) and if one tries to attack (act like a crazy wild animal and scream at it). If I end up eaten at least I tried to really live my life how I need to and my body can become part of the woods again.

Oh, so and now I hear news that my county is under a tornado watch….

Here is a sneak peak of some magic I have been working on lately… More info on that soon! Happy 100th post to me!

triangle neck

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Khalil Gibran.jpg

As a witch, I follow no one sacred book. We are all children of Spirit and so all of our lips speak eternal truths. However, many of us are in a cloud. It shrouds us with illusion- we perceive reality from a only a small perspective: like trying to know a large house by peeking in through the front door’s key hole. There are so many possibilities out there that we are unaware of.

The writings of Kahlil Gibran light me up from the inside- it reminds me of my own luminosity housed in the hearts of all creation. His poetry is like that cloud of illusion lifted. His words comfort, inspire and dance in my head like a new found lover. I feel like I can take his poems and fashion them into healing charms and love spells and chant their sacred words to wake the dead.

“Love is the lover’s eyes, and the spirit’s wine, and the heart’s nourishment. Love is a rose… Love is the poet’s elation, and the artist’s revelation, and the musician’s inspiration…Love is the sacred shrine in the heart of a child, adored by a merciful mother…Oh seekers, Love is Truth, beseeching Truth, and your Truth in seeking and receiving and protecting Love shall determine its behavior.”

“Marriage is the union of two divinities that a third might be born on earth. It is the union of two souls in a strong love for the abolishment of separateness.”

-from Secrets of the Heart

I started reading his books just two weeks ago. I found the book Secrets of the Heart among my grandmother’s things when she moved into a nursing home five years ago, however I never started reading it until recently. It was always one of those books that beckoned me to keep it around, glance at her signature printed neatly within the inside cover every once in a while. I thought the book was strictly Christian (which it is not-)  and so I never bothered to do much more than skim it. But now that I have reached a new point in my spiritual path- where I honor all paths- I was pleasantly surprised when I began to read. And then by fate’s grace I came across a large book in a thrift store that contained many (it not all) of his writings, The Treasured Writings of Kahlil Gibran.

“…the whole earth is my birthplace and all humans are my brothers.”

Kahlil Gibran was a true mystic- he followed no one religion- all inspired him and he wrote of the Spirit of Love as his guide. His writings contain many figures- including the Goddess herself. He was born in Lebanon into a Catholic family but was surrounded with those of many faiths and later as a teenager he moved back and forth between the United States and Lebanon. His family history was tragic- his father was imprisoned as when Gibran was a child and his mother, brother and sister all died of illness in his adolescence (I look up to anyone who can survive all of that) even his own lifetime love could not rightly marry him due to her family’s conservatism. However, the words that flows from him speak of joy, beauty and truth and point to the great mystery of the soul. He was also an artist and a fiction writer and knew Carl Jung (which makes him instantly cool, by the way). According to wikepedia, he is the third best selling poet of all time. His picture is also quite dashing, no?

And so it is with his words that I have been recharging this last week. I feel like the process is not fully finished, but I wanted to peek my head out of my hole for a bit to sing my praise of this wonderful writer.

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Where have all the mystics gone and why can’t they be seen?

Where are all the shadow men and singers to the trees?

Why are all these people gathering around a common sound,

When there is so much diversity in the world waiting to be found?

When can I escape to a wooded hidden home

Where folk who speak of magic safely may roam?

Why are those who are gifted  shunned from out of sight,

When we the people need their blessings and  insight?

When can we return to the doctors and the queens

Who can speak from our world into the great unseen?

I call out to the wild of places still unmet

Keep all of your secrets hidden there- because if we knew, we would forget.

Until one day when we all can meet as the lovers that we are,

and make new ways and reinvent how to love from afar,

May we hold our mysteries silent and deep and never surrender to

What others think we should be and what we are supposed to do.

For the path of the mystic can be like a mirror into the moon,

What is reflected is the truth of beauty, but logic taints it too soon.

-By Bonnie Waller (Cicada)

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vending

Finally!!!                                           She is here…

I felt her creeping up through the soil.

I heard her awakening the roots and waiting seeds.

I tasted her in the flowing sap and smelled her in the bird filled breeze.

Persephone: Awakened.

Many new things are awakening now. My spirit arose with the March Moon last night and I blessed my sacred tools in the last winter’s snow. Twitchywitchy has become greatly successful in just one week. I had my first vending event at a woman’s magickal conference over the weekend and my magnets, poetry booklets, paintings, prints, jewelery and painted up knick-knacks were a hit. Yes, you heard right: my poetry book is finished! I took the best of my spiritual poems over the years and combined them into a poetry booklet to nourish the mystic soul. I would have never pursued this project if it hadn’t been for my many friends nudging me along the way to get it out there.

poetry bookpoetry book 3

I’m still in the process of posting up more items to my store, so more busy work awaits me but I am finding it so rewarding to be able to inspire others through art. As I got to sell face to face with my customers I was able to hear about the sentimental emotions they had already attached to my handcrafted items. One woman bought a moon painted cow for her wife as a symbol of their closeness. Another woman loved a red painted pentacle bowl and planned on using it to store her flowers she had gotten while in the hospital for a kidney transplant.

I feel so blessed to be part of the community around me and I am so glad this blog helps me connect to the spiritual people of the world. (Oh and I am stepping outside of what I am used to and finally posting a picture of myself !) May more doors continue to open as the world reawakens to bloom.

~Brightest Spring Blessings~

~Cicada

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keeper of the fire painting“Keeper of the Fire”

I have met a new love and it is infinite with paint.

Painting has become quite a surprising pleasure for me this year. Compositions of plants, gods, magick, love and desire dance in my head. With each paint stroke, I overcome my self-doubt. With each picture accomplished, I realize my ability to manifest creation.

The White Goddess, Raven and Crone

“Raven and Crone”

If you have been wondering what I have been up to lately, this is it! Magick has become swirled paint alongside my normal busy world of family, kids, school, sabbats and songs. The top picture is going to go on a poetry book I am in the process of getting ready for my store, Twitchy Witchy. The other paintings are currently for sale there, too.

 priestess of the fields

“Red Priestess of the Fields”

Me, being the proud mamma I am, had to share my daughter’s rendition of this:

Aiyana's red priestess

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