Mabh Savage's Blog: A Celtic Witch, page 12

Earth Day Moot

Some great discussion and videos over at our Earth Day Moot, do pop along! Just click the event link and scroll through the posts.

https://facebook.com/events/s/pagan-fed-earth-day-online-moo/1455134451361492/?ti=icl

NaPoWriMo Day Sixteen: Drunkk

I had an idea

For words

In the middle of the night

In vino veritas

Perhaps

But definitely

In vino no memoriae.

 

 

 

(For the love of cheese someone clean up my Latin! Please!)

NaPoWriMo Day Fifteen: Lark Transmogrified

Following the NaPoWriMo prompt to write a poem inspired by music.

I wish I could write a poem

Like Williams wrote

The Lark Ascending

Those trills and furls of sheer beauty

Capturing the essence of song

The spring morn,

The warmth of the sun on my back

There’s a word for that

That fails me right now

But then the world drops away

And the violin takes over

This English composer

Capturing the otherworldly bird voice

Between lines on paper and the strings of a violin

With a sweet Eastern influence

And a nod to a poem from

Thirty-three years before

Eyes closed, on the garden step

As the magic of the bird’s melody

Becomes mundane- not less, never less

Simply a fact, a part of the world

Then the rest of the world seeps back in

And the bird takes flight

On wings of sound

The full tapestry exposed

The curtain torn back

Oh Ralph, what beauty you gave

What beauty you read, saw, heard

You took the “silver chain of sound”

And translated back

In your own sweet language.

NaPoWriMo Day Fourteen: A Pun, My Soul

Several times a day I make my husband groan

Now that one’s not a euphemism, though it could be, I own…

But he despairs of my wit, or my attempt at it

The egg-cessive ingredients in the omelette

Working it out with a pencil (he was on the loo)

What a clean cut, when the soap snaps in half,

The Claret-ty of the wine

“You Plum”, he says

“More berries, really,” I quip

And remind him that divorce is expensive.

NaPoWriMo Day Thirteen: Only in Dreams

Only in dreams do I feel

The success of nostalgia

The culmination of that homesickness

For that place I’ve never been

At least not in this life

Or with this body

Or maybe with this soul

I don’t pretend to know

How it all works.

The Germans have a word for it

They call it fernweh

The longing for something far off

Something undiscovered

Something beyond

So within these walls

And nowhere to go

Light a candle

Sing a song

Just keep searching,

I guess

NaPoWriMo Day Twelve: The Starter

I can’t stop thinking about it

Living in my kitchen

Sealed in its jar…

Or so I thought.

It crept out one night

After we’d watched too much dark sci-fi

And the bubbles were more meaningful than ever

It crept out, right through the rubber seal

I knew it wasn’t supposed to be airtight

And apparently it wasn’t

Night-thief-knife-like terror

Squeezing through

Impossible cracks

I can’t stop thinking about it

Raining upwards like an

Impossible planet

Are you flora or fauna?

Animal, mineral, or vegetable?

You are alive, alive in my kitchen

You impossible thing.

NaPoWriMo Day Eleven: Yeast

I love yeast

I love the warmth of fresh baked bread

The buttery silk of a sharp cut slice,

Just cool enough not to crumble

Under the knife

I love the bubbling demijohn

Or brew bin

Singing in the night

A watery siren

That paradoxically pulls you closer

Once silent.

I love the jar on my kitchen side

Full of power

Potential

Preening itself as I feed it daily;

Home-cultured yeast,

From practically nothing

The oldest magic.

NaPoWriMo Day Ten: Numb

I describe myself as numb

To others

Because it’s easier

Than describing

The inexplicable drama

Banality

Humdrum hurricane

Of feelings fraught with April frost

Invisible beasts

Cold sunshine

Bubble-less yeasts

Tasteless sweets

Coffee that just makes you

Sleepy

A hiccup of anxiety

Expelled like a drunk’s belch

To describe all that…

I’d rather be

just numb.

NaPoWriMo Day 9: Bright

She said

What shape

Should this poem be?

Will it twist and turn and wind

And cover me in thorns, barbed words

To sting and recriminate, burning and cutting

Before sneering away to hide behind smug curtains

Of arrogance, cold and diamond-like, sharp and laser-made?

Like a diamond, crystalline and angular? Cold, hard

But straight lines, straight up, direct, you know,

No messing around, no false hope

Just right to the point

But painful

And too

Bright

NaPoWriMo Day 8: And Tales of Human Blood

Content Warning: Blood, donating blood, sickness. Inspired by the NaPoWriMo Website’s prompt to take a line from a poetry bot on Twitter and turn it into a poem. 

And tales of human blood,

Oh, dear digital Shelley, these are

The tales for our times

The tales of inequality and disaster

Of poverty and desperation

Of disease not actually being

The Great Leveller

As those who are more level than us

Would allow us to believe;

Tales of human blood

Given in kindness, as donations

Given in metaphor, through effort

Charity and foodbanks

Nursing and healing and caring and even

Knocking on a door

Leaving a card that says, “I’m here”

These tales of human blood

Our history

Our legacy.