Original image by Laura Sheridan There are no mistakes in the shaping of who we are under the Goddess Morrigan; we step out onto the proverbial battlefield, uncertain, untested, but willing to prove ourselves in Her eyes, hungry for the recognition we all crave, to be worthy; worthy of The Morrigan, worthy of the call, worthy of the trust that She has placed in us. Unfortunately, this can be the first downfall. Tempestuous, ravenous, and determined, it is easy to become sin

image by Econita "I hear you Mother A thousand men falling at your feet In a bloodied heap of prophecy Churning into the very Earth Staining it Red..." - War Cry for the Morrigan Anger is at the roots. It burns and bubbles there, wrathful, terrible and necessary, daring to break the chains of apathetic thinking. It is the combustive element that lights a spark amongst the gunpowder, until all the rotten foundations are burning, breaking under their outdated weight, and

Original art work - thefoxandtheraven Mist descends Like an ill-begotten shade Obscuring that, The sense you most rely And so I speak in softer tones Yet No less deadly As the smoke coils inward Stinging out your eyes Blink back rivers Irritant Your grip reactionary Tightens the blade Plant your roots Never falter As your instinct Takes the reign A low pitched whistle Alerts you To the knife Coming for your head Relax into reflex Prophetic knowing That

Crown Yourself in Roses "That’s the thing about the Crow eyed women With their lips bedecked in otherness You might think for a moment they are infused with whimsy But Morrigan made them with steel bones We endure beyond the point of breaking..." - Joey Morris 'Crow Eyed Woman' It was Morrigan who whispered it, to crown yourself in Roses, deep in the middle of the night, when only the stars winked in their secret knowing, and I, halfway through the gate and certainly not

image - Natalia Drepina Badb I lay across your gleaming Scythe And scream in silence I am unmade In the shivering tomb of my soul The cocoon splits Marked for the tearing of its tethering The pungent rot slops onto the floor Ripe for burning Frailty hangs around my neck like a noose Crushing my trachea before I can utter words of aimless self defeat The phantom stalks these halls Blade sparking against stone slab circles In places forgotten by man And spoken of

"I know my Worth. I've paid dearly for every ounce of it." - Alfa Black soot stained feathers brush across my cheekbones, dappling ink across my flesh. Experience is worn, painted on, from the dusty remnants of burning the defunct remnants of a former life, a constant reminder when the sting of memory fades and the tears are all spent. The Goddess Badb will always bring me back to myself, time and again, even when I find myself ashamed in the recalling. Her crow-like shrill

In the quiet aftermath of the violent Blood Moon, we clutch at a moment of respite, for we have bled out into the water having opened the floodgates to our truest selves. Who amongst us can say that we have not felt the Full Moon in Leo, with its spiritual trifecta of Supermoon, Blue Moon, and Blood Moon, clawing at us from deep within, disturbing us from our rest and screeching at us to step out from the shadows in our most authentic guise. The Blood Moon set the stage of a

Original Image - xthenullchamberx.tumblr.com "There is blood beneath your fingertips Stained once more with dirt The nectar that fills your veins Reminds you what is 'worth' The howling tale upon the wind The Crow cries out for war..." - Joey Morris Morriganic War Cry​ Timeless, ageless, cawing from the outer reaches of the spiritual ecosystem; the prophetess, the magician, the omen bearer of all that could ever come to pass; the Crow. Placing the black charred feathers

Image- wallpaperwide Puncture marks punctuate Torn from bullet wounding points A cage of overgrown weeds Deep breaths filling lungs with ache The moments between chaotic order dissemble Ties of red chord twisting Shadow calling in the tears The point of entry shifted and shifted again A wall of broken points Silent wailing phantom echoes Lesson after lesson of drowning The absence of fire dancer Lends to abscessed feet Only passion burns away the mold The crackl

Art – Bojan Jevtić Sight from the Morrigan Needle claws Across my eyes Blood drenched rivers Flow across my arms Blink to black then white Crow sight There stands a woman covered In soot and darkness dirt Blacked by the flames Of fields once quickened Rise and rise again Paid for in sacrifice Blade across the throat Screaming out Crow speak Tempered never in robes of magnetic fury Cascading in ember burnt husks of glitter Do you think you know what it means

“…I hear her scream Guttering The pitch black chord of night I am her and She is me…” – Joey Morris Woad Warrior Never in human history has the screaming been so silent. The sanitization of modern society impresses on the individual the need for silence to such a degree that the verbal act of screaming is relegated to films concerning horror. The Horror genre is generally considered to be a psychological pressure valve for social and cultural concerns within the human p

Image source – Lost in the Darkness by Natalia Drepina How beautiful is the Darkness, where our shadows are simply part of us without separation, and we breathe in the essence of the Universe in void; in potential, in endless possibility… As Alban Hefin (Midsummer) approaches I become more acutely aware of the Darkness; as the brightness takes over, the blinding light scorching through the curtains disturbing sleep, and as a result my heart yearns to be cocooned once again in

Can’t lie to the seer who dreams in Crow tongue Can’t take back the future when it’s already done Can’t shade the soul whose sound in their core Can’t fool the Goddess She’s been here before. -Joanne Morris all my own work and design, all rights reserved Image from pinterest #po #poet #poetry #poem #power #criw #deathcrow #crow #themorrigan #morrigu #morrigan

Image source Goddess Badb; Shadow of Silver Birch: Or an odd journey to the Underworld with Foxes and Moths The Shadow within the Celtic path, and within the trees whom I revere as guardians, is a realm of sometimes seemingly unfathomable depths, and in order to traverse this path with company, one has to have explored the caverns appropriately and with care. There is no substitute for experience, no short cut through shadow work, and if one is to properly hold discourse arou

Image -nataliadrepina.deviantart.com There is blood beneath your fingertips Stained once more with dirt The nectar that fills your veins Reminds you what is worth The howling tale upon the wind The Crow cries out for war Tattered wings and battered things A cavern all aglow Shadows deepen calling out Reminds you what’s at stake Crashing waves against the rock Don’t break Don’t break Don’t break – Joanne Morris 2017 All my own work and design all rights reserved #

(Image sourced from Weheartit Original unknown.) And so Mother I find myself on bloodied knees Singing of your reverence Unafraid of the bruises that mar my skin Unhampered by the thorns that pierce Or the roots that bind For they are fleeting distractions For those of Corvid wings The blue on my skin turns to spirals Swarthing through flesh and bone For amidst the sundering, somewhere I will become whole Though I am shattered glass Broken, yet piercing, I am st

Mother Morrigan Tuck me into the folds Of your midnight Teach me to sink And count the stars Teach me to die well So I might live Teach me to dance With a bleeding heart And raven wings J.Morris 2015 All my own work All rights reserved #themorrigan #morrigan #morrigu #dance #power #poem #poetry #poet #spell #spirituality #spirit #spiritual

Original Art –Boneyard. Photo by alexstoddard on Flickr The illumination of the relationship between Witchcraft and bones seems inevitable in the wake of this year of Death. As we enter the final months of 2016 and Winter begins to take a hold, thoughts turn to the Solstice, banishing the difficulties of months gone by, and celebrating the painful lessons that have been dished out like bitter candy over and over again. The motifs of bones, skulls, and the archetypal Witch thr

Original art – Sorceress. The Goblin Ball: Ice Kingdom – Sat 22 June 2013. Melbourne, Australia Invoking Badb, Crone aspect of Morrigan. “I am the War Crow I am the Death Crow I am Badb. And you will fall before me.” -Joey Morris 2015 #badb #death #deathcrow #crow #raven #wolf #witch #witchcraft #goddess #themorrigan #morrigan #morrigu

Followed by the weed that binds And moths of veiled white Speak to me of ancient trees And gifts of raven sight Hold fast to the dirt trod Earth As you learn to fly Balance is key to all things The rhyme and reason why I have been lost for many years Seeking the unknown Counting blessings and the hurts Of everything I’m shown Morrigan is on the wind The breath and scream of Crow The storm it whips around my heart Where weak men fear to go She places blade into