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Posts Tagged ‘Poetry’

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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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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A Weaver’s Path

By Cicada

 

It is a small road taken through the woodland path.

It speaks to hermits and madwomen

Lonely children and poet dreamers.

It is a small token to come upon a sign that all is now well:

This bright, full ring around Diana-

This clump of dirt shaped as a rainbow-

This bridge formed by decaying trees of old.

But to build our strengths upon the bones of the ancient ones

And to breathe the air that the willows have swept-

Is to fully be dancing with Old Man Woman of hill, tide and cavern.

Weaving silk into a circle

Pressing sap out of stone

Mending hearts wide open

I make in shadow but not alone.

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Greetings out there my pagan friendly fellows,

As you may know, this weekend many of us witchies have celebrated Mabon- the second harvest festival for the wheel of the year. It is a great time to be thankful for what is blossoming and coming to fruit in life and to honor the balance of dark and light with the solar equinox.

I hope everyone had a great celebration… and if you haven’t, don’t feel bad, a simple “Thank you Universe!” would suffice…

I have no idea why today’s blog is in a letter form, but it is too late to not go with it, so I will continue…

What did I do for Mabon? I am so glad you asked. I currently am sipping hot cocoa and waiting for my two year old to finally fall asleep so my husband and I can go out to the backyard and sit by a bonfire.

And as for what I did before this moment?

I started off my festivities by driving out to Tulie’s house. I came across a homeless couple who needed directions to the nearest gas station. I so so so badly wanted to just have them jump in my car and drive them there, but I have to stay realistic about the world I am living in right now. Instead, I got to Tulie’s house, we made them up some food and drove it to them with directions. I pray they are doing well.

Then, Tulie and I went wildflower and pokeberry hunting! Pokeberries are in season and they are used to make banishing ink. They are poisonous, so beware of that if you harvest them. Wildflowers are in abundance around here, also. Goldenrod (magickal use: good fortune) and Black Eyed Susan (courage and protection from negativity) are in bloom so we picked bouquets and added dark purple Curled Dock and clover blossoms to the mix.

Our ritual began with drumming and a focus on what we were thankful for. As soon as we began, however, a columbine started up in the bean field next to her yard and we had to run from the big cloud of dirt and plant chips flying out as it began to drive by to harvest. This was fitting, a big reminder that it is a harvest festival! We ran as much ritual stuff as possible out to her ancient oak tree, away from the columbine, and finished up there. We drew thank-you cards for Infinite Spirit and burned them for the smoke to send our prayers. We offered a few pokeberries to the underworld by means of placing some in the hollowed out trunk of the tree and asked for our spirits to open to the reality that winter was on its way. Strength, patience and hope is always needed during the colder months.

Then, we made pokeberry ink by smashing all of the berries, straining the liquid into glass and adding a bit of vinegar as a preservative. I’m thinking the ink will  come in handy soon to banish any winter blaws. Although many tend to stay away from banishing magick, it can be an extremely positive thing in order to clear the way for blessings to flow.

Back at home my daughter helped me set up our family altar in our backyard labyrinth. I had her hunt for natural items that would correspond to the elements for the altar as I heated up some apple cider in a tea kettle inside the house. Then, everyone drew a picture or wrote what they were thankful for on paper. My toddler drew four scribbles and told us it was each of us.

Our ritual was simple but sweet. Our daughter rang a bell to call in the Lord and Lady and our son sprinkled water in each direction. We told each other what our papers said and burned them while sipping warm cinnamon cider. To my surprise our toddler didn’t mind his drawing going up in flames. We ended the ritual with big hugs and a family photo and then we went back inside to eat spaghetti and play jinga.

The Sun sets in the West

The Moon, She rises in the East

The Child is born from the Darkness

The Corn is cut from the sheath.

We give Thanks to the East

We give Thanks to the West

We give Thanks to the Mother-

Night at Rest.

We give Thanks to the East

We give Thanks to the West

We give Thanks to the Father-

Sun on the Nest.

          Many Blessings to you Dear Reader,

                                                 And Many Thanks for Listening,

                                                                                    ~ Cicada~

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If I don’t make some sort of art in any form for a week, I get a bit twitchy and feel like I will explode. Art, along with spirituality, keeps me in balance. Writing poetry, stories, music, dancing and creating visual art forms ground me to my ancestral roots and at the same time, help me blossom over where I have once been. I need outlets in order to actively let out all of the energetic inward stuff that fills me up, but threatens to decay if not given back to the universe properly.

I was good at art as a child, but I didn’t do it nearly enough to justify that I would be doing it later on in life. (Not like my own daughter who draws compulsively.) However, art was already in my blood. My parents, both artists in their own right: My mother a creative quiltess, my father- a poet and painter. His mother- poet and painter. Her father- a poet and painter. Spirituality also dripped down the generational line in the form of art.

It wasn’t until I became a teenager that art began to take it’s hold. For a pond spirit as a muse and a love that was cursed from the get go, I wrote pages and pages of emotional poetry. Then, when I moved my sophomore year in high school, I immediately fit into the art-minded crowd and started working in an art gallery. Later, I really began to flourish when I moved out of my parent’s home and in with my now husband. With way less energy sucked away to the drama of my family, I started to be able to devote more of myself to art…

And now I am so excited that I am moving my art into an arena that I can share it. Not only is there a CD in the works, but this week I opened an etsy store! My TwitchyWitchy Store!  

I’ve been having fun up-cycling statues into divine deities, creating jewelery, and making other pagan inspired art to sell. I think I have created enough stuff for my friends and I over the years and so now my territory extends out to the whole world. There is a lot more to come. Enjoy and blessings!

~Some of the items in store

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Awake

To that Always Burning Fire within,

        Awake in my Soul-

.

Ode to the Self

       that is infinite and unbounded.

Ode to the Self

       that has no beginning or end.

Ode to the Self

       beyond the confines of my body.

  An infinite spiral inside my Being

              constantly connecting

               and reaching back inside again.

Ode to the Self

      expansion Awake.

Ode to my Being

       ever present outside time.

    A touch of eternal flame

                an opening,

                 a quickening,

                 a truth beyond take.

Ode to the Self

       connection to Spirit made whole.

Ode to my Self

       always experiencing the movements

             but is the stillness

                  of the center

                       in my Being Awake.

                                                            ~Cicada

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These past weeks I have been gone have been due to the many dreams awakening within me. These dreams have been various in types but all have living connections to the physical life I am living.

The first night of the Pagan Spirit Gathering (PSG) I dreamed that a raccoon stole our loaf of bread. So convinced that this was actually happening that I tried to wake my husband, but was I just dreaming that too? In the morning the bread was gone only to be found midday torn to bits in the woods behind our tent. I was really glad I had this dream. Since I was little these foretelling dreams would occur reminding me that I was connected to Spirit. It has been many months since I have had a dream like this and I am always glad when they return. It is nice to have a little heads up sometimes.

When in ritual I am enacting the living dream of magic inside of me and the cosmos. PSG has so many opportunities for ritual that it is physically impossible to be present for them all. I attended the ones that I felt drawn to and got out of it exactly what I needed. There was a huge candle lit labyrinth where I welcomed living intuitively again. There was the morning yoga sessions where I connected with my body and intentions for the day. There was the few nightly bonfire drumming circles I danced until the music was ingrained into my energy and I went to bed sand covered and humming with happiness. There was also the Summer Solstice ritual where time seemed to stop.

(setting up the labyrinth took about three hours with about eight people!)

I didn’t get a picture of it lit up, but here is basically what it looked like.

Another ritual was the Sacred Fire Ceremony the night before the Solstice… this was a wonderfully intense living dream. All night about twenty of us kept the energy of the ritual flowing. There was no set structure except to flow flow flow. Everyone did what they needed to do when they needed to do it and it all worked harmonious until dawn. Dancing, singing, meditating, healing, creating prayer flags, feasting, drumming. Although I knew no one’s names since no one really talked (unless to the Fire outloud) I felt like we all had experienced each others’ souls vibration. Intense healing went on here and I am truly grateful.

When I was a child I dreamed of being a singer. Not just in my sleep, but all the time. But, like most of our childhood dreams we give up on them. We become convinced we are not good enough. I listened to someone who said I couldn’t sing. I let my first musical audition failure discourage me. I became petrified of singing on stage. Then the worst thing happened- I became convinced I didn’t even want to sing for others anymore.

Luckily, however, the dream did not give up on me. Songs after songs after songs have chased me down. I finally bought a voice recorder and filled it up with original tunes. I started writing songs and singing them to my children… then to my husband… then to my friends… then to my local drum and womens’ circles… then this year I taught some of my chant songs to a singing group at PSG and my life may never be the same!

Dreams are welcome here. I once heard the saying “A witch without dreams is like a night without stars.”

What the world needs

I will begin.

In order to serve I shed off my skin.

I shed all of my strife.

I welcome new life.

Blessed Be

                           again and again.

~Cicada

July Full Moon!

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