Open Poetry #31 |
Imbolc/candlemas (repost in honor of the days) |
serenity blaze Member Empyrean
since 2000-02-02
Posts 27738 |
Know ye there is life beneath frozen earth protecting seed oh potentiality the virgin bride awaits the groom. Slash the grasses that have died prepare her with annoint of fire. This winter field has long been dead. Prepare ye now the nuptial bed-- sanctify and bless the womb. I rid my self's futility-- Brigid--she does dwell in me! I invoke the light of bliss and dance in praise of Candlemas-- alive in strobe of flickering. Tears and sweat with ash of death are talcum for the winter's bane. Torch the tomb of my regret prepare the garden to beget till the ground of sad refrain-- I stand in praise of quickening. |
||
© Copyright 2004 serenity blaze - All Rights Reserved | |||
vlraynes Member Rara Avis
since 2000-07-25
Posts 8229Somewhere... out there... |
I had to go back and refresh my memory on the lesson that originally accompanied this one... I so enjoy it when ya teach me stuff...smile Love this, Karen... and love YOU... "When the power of love overcomes the love |
||
Enchantress Member Empyrean
since 2001-08-14
Posts 35113Canada eh. |
Wonderful write on Candlemas Karen. Blessed be. ~ Is that love I see in your eyes... |
||
iliana Member Patricius
since 2003-12-05
Posts 13434USA |
Lovely writing. |
||
Sunshine
Administrator
Member Empyrean
since 1999-06-25
Posts 63354Listening to every heart |
I rid my self's futility-- Brigid--she does dwell in me! I invoke the light of bliss and dance in praise of Candlemas-- alive in strobe of flickering. ~*~ This stands out better this year... |
||
Cpat Hair
since 2001-06-05
Posts 11793 |
So crowned February Between bent hills Shaved clean of brush Yet now covered in slight snow White against a darker hue She cried Her first breath of ice More a sigh Followed by the wail Of wind on steel clouds Portend, perhaps, Of misery to follow Still she was born At end of January’s term Yet before the dance of spring With colic cough of cold To keep us awake And minister to her demands Sickly month you are That will die in short days Never knowing But of bursting trees And lover’s reach for warm In paper twined sweets Tell me Who would love february with so few charms |
||
1slick_lady Member Ascendant
since 2000-12-22
Posts 6088standing on a shadow's lace |
what is dead we shall let go of reclaiming a place we now call life |
||
icebox Member Elite
since 2003-05-03
Posts 4383in the shadows |
Wonderful write! I thought it interesting that the national feast of saint steroid was held on Imbolc this year (but I did have trouble seeing Janet Jackson as "Brigid The Light Bringer"). *smile* |
||
⇧ top of page ⇧ | ||
All times are ET (US). All dates are in Year-Month-Day format. |