I feel as though flotsam Run ragged on the ocean I have travelled far in search Of something deep and buried They speak of sirens ache Upon the shore so lulling I tip into the waves and sigh A torn white sail around my heart Was once airborn and waving Now a shroud of longing What does it mean to be sworn to sea A promise of names sake written In ink in the lines of my skin Wrinkles wink at the past as I float A maiden of sand that is slipping Can I breathe

original image - Verren's Dream The lesson of the Hawk mask has taken a longer cycle to comprehend than many of the messages that come from peering through the magical eyes of another; to shift into an energy that is beyond the basic human comprehension of the world in order to glean spiritual insights. Perhaps it is because the Hawk mask speaks to us of perspective; and how can that be a simple lesson? It may have had added difficulty personally, as Goddess Morrigan spoke in

photography - Michael Germosén Primal Woman, I call to you And speak of spitting fire and Ocean tide Swallowed whole by a passion of being And unbecoming The lines in the dark blur into memory Timeless and ageless as salt bought yearning Teeth chatter and chomp through the pages of history Gnashing at an ode to freedom Something in our loins Mystery is not the unknowing But the unlearning of a half measured truth Matted in animal fur and war wounds Spears held tight

This may well be the weirdest energetic lead up to Beltane that this Witch can remember, and not necessarily in a good way. The energies are less lustful fiery goodness and more murky water questionability, with the general snark of this year seemingly still in full force, be it snide remarks or downright frightening socio-political events, there seems to be a sliding scale of anti-empathetic behaviour all around. The weather and Earth does not seem to be where it usually i

image original -Jojopostfashion "Singing to the lost That is the thing I am not a shining beacon I do not guide Thudding of blackened wings foretelling Death Blood weaving entrails Blood soaked prophetic weaving, What entails within those entrails? A savage lust, You would demote us, sanitize us, Saw down our vicious edges, Battle stance to nothing - a lovers grip? We are Befallen We are Fate and Death We are the bone jaw snapping closed A heavy gurgle of mans la

photography art - Kirsty Mitchell Blessed Spring Equinox, starlets! It has been a strange year so far energy wise and once more the Spring Equinox doesn’t feel typical. Winter is still clinging on with bursts of snow far later than most years, and the emphasis on introspection and shadow still weighs heavily to my mind. This beautiful art summarizes how I feel about this spring, the ice is still in the air, but hope gently beats its wings against our minds, reminding us we cr

Image - Jenna Denise There is something to discovering that the over arching theme of your birth chart is attached to the archetype of the Wounded Healer. That and the lines that clearly mark you as wounded, broken, at a young age, and the slow alchemization of that pain and suffering into soul speak. I have been mulling over and over the spiritually divined phrase, "This is your medicine to give to the world." In my heart, I have long wondered if that deep twinge of sad

These Dark yet Holy things Etched into the very bark Teach us from a pool inked onto the world Forgotten towers of mislaid bricks That once revered were scattered And laid to waste The Raven crackles in the storm Inciting venomous lessons There is knowledge in boldness and in blood Reaching out far beyond the walls Graves of our forebears are not silenced By the passing of the beating heart An echo ripples backward remembering We were one once with the night - Jo

The Cailleach “Bloody teeth and wizened fingertips, a Holy unholy sight, hobbling and hopping across the border, Alight and brazen, aching to be something Other, Older, Wiser, Starting once again, In the bowels of the Earth in the depths of Winter but never lifeless, not even in Death, Mad with knowledge, empty vessels poured out on the naked land, renewed. Everything is beyond the grasp of the fearful, embody fear instead, and howl, scream out into the night…” – The Cail

Remember when I blog posted about the archetype of the Story teller? This is the extension of that message. The obligation to write our own stories. The call to #breakthemold when it comes to who we want to be. In a world where we are handed a role, it’s our prerogative – if not a downright personal necessity – to question that, smash it, rewrite it… You are not small. You cannot be defined simply and indeed, every person exists between the lines. No matter what is written, i

Image – Highly deadly black tarantula We are the unlovable The damaged and the broken Those with complicated scars And lurking memories We don’t know how to fake a smile anymore, Let alone a whole lifestyle And so many chattering mouths and mean voices tell us that We are too difficult to love. Following in the murky footsteps of the Cult of Not Belonging is a painful shadow; fear based, suffocating in its icy grip… the shadow that if we show ourselves completely to so

Image – Nadia Maria Photography “Other eyes.” What does it mean to be starry eyed? To have cosmic dust deep in your eyes To peek beyond with void in veil What does it mean to have Other eyes? When the universe speaks energy never lies To watch something darkly beautiful What does it mean to see all is dust? To know what is broken and all turns to rust To see glimpses of eternity in inevitability What does it mean to live as a seer Are the chains just as broken, the cos

Image- Odysseyonline “Every Story that has ever been told or will be, exists timelessly within the void. This is the temple of the Storyteller.” – Joanne Morris 2017 Within the heart and soul of every human being is a story, the retelling of our lives; past, present and future – both the stories we have woven from our choices and actions, and those yet untold and unforeseen. To some, we are the weavers of our own fates, to others, our destinies exist independently of our con

★★★ Oracle for Starlets ★★★ ★ Plant Ally Cards by Lisa Mcloughlin Art★ ★ Nettle – Nourishment ★ “Find the nourishment after pain; the pearl in the oyster. Seek out environments that help to clear your thinking so that you can respond to unhealthy internal/external situations in a positive way.” – Lisa Mcloughlin “Nettle it is called, it attacks against poison, it drives out the hostile one, it casts out poison. This is the herb that fought against the serpent, it has power

★★★ Starry Oracle ★★★ ★Self mastery★ ★Deck – Plant Ally Cards by Lisa McLoughlin★ “Rosebay Willowherb (Fireweed)- Self Mastery You are the Phoenix rising from the ashes! Feel encouraged to renew your confidence in self mastery. What do you desire to do?” “Fireweed removes anger and transmutes karma. It is the remedy of restoration. When life destroys us, Fireweed flower essence helps us to successfully start over. Like the phoenix rising from the ashes of the fire, it helps

★★★ Oracle for Starlets ★★★ ★ Cards of Chaos – Queen of Books ★ The beautiful cards of Chaos come without any definitive meanings, allowing for personal interpretation of them to rule your thought process… anything goes as long as it aligns with your higher truth! How apt is it that the Queen of Books showed up this week for the Oracle reading; She who rules over the written and recorded word; covering her torso in words as well as her face in randomized alphabetical letters.

Own image ★★★ Oracle for Starlets ★★★ ★Plant Ally Oracle★ ★Assertiveness – Sweet Violet★ “You are a beautiful and sensitive soul. It is sometimes easier to retreat and hide. Stand up for yourself and communicate clearly with confidence. You will notice life will be sweeter.” – Lisa Mcloughlin Art “VIOLET Blue – Watchfulness; Faithfulness; I’ll Always Be True,” – Language of Flowers. “The forward Violet thus did I chide… Sweet thief, whence didst thou steal they sweet that s

(Original image – Witching hour by DmajicPhotography.) I place my bare feet Upon this Earth And feel the call Of all that was My aching soul It longs to run To be free with The Wild Ones My beating heart Sings out loud The trees they know It’s all around The Crows are singing Back at me Little daughter You’re not asleep I see through wolf eyes I weave my fate Tears sow the ground From my mistakes But warriors They are simply made That iron dancer Is not

“I walk amongst the shadows I walk amidst the Trees I feel the Life eternal Singing on the breeze I understand the Darkness I understand the Light The need for stark cold silence And the ferocity to fight. I am a Wood born Witch Hidden in the Groves Walk with me by Midnight In tree verse magick prose.” – Joey Morris 2016 All my own intellectual property, All rights reserved #pagan #poet #poetry #poem #wood #woods #wild