Tag: betwixt and between

  • tossing a rune — 17apr25

    who dares mount up &
    enjoin the winding path?

    ravens laugh in the ashes
    at a joke few will perceive —
    a snare that's already sprung

    While I don’t plan to go back to doing daily rune poems as I did at sceadugenga.com, every once in a while I might randomly pick one and see what comes out of my head, just to keep the wheels greased. Today’s was ehwaz. At its core, it has been given the meaning “horse” which, in turn, leads a multitude of other associations including that of fylgja — which is synonymous with the concept of a totem spirit. I imagine the ravens laughing at any notions I might have about control, much as they laugh about most of the things I think I “know”.

    So it goes…

  • behind masque & real

    Image of a writing journal and a pencil.
    Photo by Dariusz Sankowski on Unsplash
    this careless secret, mine
    one i must conceal
    i bury it darkly
    wrapped so tightly of
    night velvets & thorn
    behind masque & real

  • reflections

    reflection of woman s eye on broken mirror
    Photo by Ismael Sánchez on Pexels.com
    i do not look in mirrors or
    check my display window reflections
    as i drift on by there's not much to see
    there
    anyway

    i stole a glance at an echo
    beyond the simulacrum
    and found myself trapped
    in thrall with the ghost i did see

    what ever was
    narcissus dreaming?

  • Silksong

    green trees near body of water
    Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

    Mountain flowers flowed out in carpet under the granite teeth of bears, the silksong still waters shifting slip from lake to falls a canyon behind. Though half a mile north and downhill, he could hear the faint roar of cascade against rigid sharp stones below as the waters would slip yet further away.

    Cedar breezes and that mystery smell of water evaporating in the sun on grey stone. He wanders this place as if he lives here, though it has gone a lifetime away. Chill mountain lakes, snowcapped peaks thrust still here at the top of a world.

    He brushes away the pine needles browning on the rock overlooking the shallow lake, just a broad space of river as it slow shifts water from higher places to low. He sits and waits for her arrival, wondering if today will be her day.

  • moonchilde

    standing stones
    Photo by Suzanne Rushton on Unsplash
    drawn pale moon blind 
    reflected in black waters
    the mirror of which
    they did call you their
    beloved moonchilde

    do you remember?
    do you recall?
    before the wheel
    was sent spinning? 

    knots and lace 
    tarot and song 
    petals on sheets and
    myrrh in our hair...

    come for me under night
    the one once called
    beloved moonchilde