There Are Gods and Then There Are Gods

There are gods and then there are gods.
Which ones you choose
Will determine your soul path.
Their hates and loves,
Joys and sorrows,
Become reflected in you.
But where is your soul
In all of this clamour?
It is changing and circling,
Dieing and being born
Because there are gods
And then there are gods.

Opposing Reflections

Calm winds, calms rains!
I am the old man who brings calm.
I am he who drys the soaked.
I am he who weakens the air.
I take the dark depression of the world
And turn it to joy.

Come winds, come rains!
I am the young man who brings activity.
I am he who quenches thirst.
I am he who gives the winds life.
I take the dormant world and reanimate its essense.

The Soul of This Land is My Soul

The soul of this land is my soul.
Created and taken from its core.
A great cauldron of love and hate forged my being.
Its strengths and weaknesses bred my complexities.

My fruits are the fruits of this land.
My body yearns tastes and textures for its life,
Taking what it can when it can.
But the great consumer must be consumed and return to the land.

My face is one of the land’s many.
To look at it is to celebrate nature’s diversity.
To love or hate it is to be deceived,
For the face blocks out what is truly beautiful.

My life is the land’s life.
It gives all I need and will take it back.
We should nurture it as it nurtures us.
What I do is for the land.

My heart is driven by the land’s heart.
The blood flows round and round.
The twisting, turning and circling never ending.
My true heart will never fail.

My mind is the land’s mind.
Thoughts expressed by the land for the land.
A tapestry of consciousness expressed in me.
All knowledge coming from the no-knowledge within.

Mysteriously Obvious

From the heart of my heart
Your being uncovers a mystery.
A glimpse I get,
Of light within darkness.
I see the light to grow strong,
Only to be shrouded by dark’s cloak.
Something changes that I can see
But I remain blind.
That I feel
But I am numb to its mystery.

You are a mystery.
Like a dry well I withdraw the pail
But find nothing.
I can’t see a drop,
I cannot feel any moisture
But I know a lake exists within it.

Your beauty covers up a greater beauty
That I have not yet begun to understand.
If I search for it will it disappear forever?
If I leave it be will it ambush me and overwhelm me?

Our hearts are open and exposed,
Their inner lights penetrate every corner of the universe
And yet we do the possible and ignore it!

Memories Are For Loving

Comment: This is one of the older poems I wrote, before I’d started writing poetry as much as I have. I think it was written at a time when nostalgia was one of the things that gave me comfort in life when growing up seemed a bit confusing.

Why cry when there are memories to help you smile,
Memories to cherish,
Thought of for mile upon mile.
Memories to love along the way,
Memories to keep on that day,
Memories to weep,
Memopries in the shapes of clouds,
Memories to dream of,
Memories in those high street crowds.
Everytime you think of those special times,
Don’t wash them away, like grime.

Long Beautiful Rest

Long beautiful rest, come to me,
Absorb my worn body and regenerate me.
Grant me the alert and focussed mind.
Let it leap and hide as the small hind.

I need the long beautiful rest,
So that my life can live to its best.
Close my eyes, let my muscles relax.
Oh Great spirirt, give me what my body lacks.

Within this long beautiful rest I see visions,
But closed my eyes are.
Showing me stories of futures afar,
Stories of me in spirit and flesh.

I had longed for the long beautiful rest,
But the day cometh soon with its joys and sorrows.
I must get on with the active day,
Then back to that long beautiful rest.

Green Man, Tree Man

See how he rises above us?
See how he crawls on the ground?
See how his thorns hurt,
And his leaves sustain,
And his body shelters?
See how his body changes
Under the sun’s control?
Our sap rises with his.
We retreat into ourselves during winter months
Just like him.
We have our thorns and our leaves!
So are we trees?

The Sea’s Mystic

The smooth waves reach towards me with love,
A watery parent wanting to envelope me.
The curved waves turning to froth,
Its life and strength depleting itself on the beach,
Then drawing itself back to its source.
Up above in the clouds a scar appears
Like a blade has swept through it.
One side the gentle grey clouds float by,
The other darker half rumbles with thunder.
The noise telling of death and destruction
But strangely comforts my inner being.
The rain clouds stride by faster.
I step nearer to the sea,
Once…
The wind suddenly strengthens out of stillness.
Twice…
The waves grow larger caressing my feet.
The stones clatter between feet and waves.
Love swells in my heart for I now know my beginning and my end.

Comment: This was inspired by an actual happening. I’ll never forget that day.

Because of Them

I can see life in the most lifeless of places,
I can hear footsteps in unpopulated streets,
I can smell feasts in the midst of poverty,
All because of the Lord and Lady.

You can see wisdom in a grain of sand,
You can hear breathing in the vacuum of space,
You can smell spring in the height of winter,
All because of the Lord and Lady.

They can see leisure in back-breaking work,
They can hear the whispers of a corpse,
They can smell perfume in a rotting limb,
Because they are the Lord and Lady.

Comment: the Lord and Lady are common titles used by many coven Wiccans reflecting the tradition that all gods are aspects of one God and all goddesses are aspects of one Goddess, which can certainly become a lesson in paradox lol!

Joy of Imbolc

Comment: Yes, I know I’m early with this one. Imbolc (pronounced imolc and means ewe’s milk) is actually on the first of February not near the end of July. Perhaps you can store it away somewhere until then

Joy! Spring comes.
Joy! The Goddess breathes life.
Joy! Life returns.
Joy! The Sun destroys the Winter Queen’s curse.
Joy! It is Imbolc.