Great Mystery

 

After dancing with him in the forest

one recalls few details – only the speed

of reckless feet, the rush of wind

through flowing hair, the giddying swirl

inside firm arms holding safe, and 

the after-taste of ecstasy. (He has

many names, the Horned God.)

Written for Quadrille 249 at dVerse. (44 words not including title, which on this occasion must include some form of the word 'horn'.)

Reunion

For the April 'poem a day' challenge this year, I'm writing haibun to explore and reflect on my new Tarot deck, Forests of Enchantment. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~

How I love Cernunnos!

The Emperor not so much. In that guise of the male archetype, I notice the bossy aspects more, and the drive for material success. I’d take a sensitive artist over an athlete any day, a nurse or librarian before a wealthy businessman.

But in truth I’ve always chosen adventurous men. Not all of them rock-climbed, or travelled the world, or explored the depths of the ocean (though some did) but all had adventurous minds. It’s not so much the bad boys I like (not seriously bad) as the wild ones: rebels, outsiders, non-conformists. And in this deck Card IV is king of the wild, the Forest Lord.

I begin to comprehend how so many Catholic nuns can all be ‘brides of Christ’ without possessiveness, or many little milkmaids happily cavort with Krishna. It doesn’t matter a scrap to me that other Pagan women love the Horned God too, and dance with him ecstatically in forests of their minds.

The wild boar stands friendly at his side. I wasn’t aware of that connection, when I made shamanic journeys with Boar as my trusty guide. It’s nice to learn of it now.

quiet afternoon –
I plan a new journey
to be with old friends

 

 

Seen and Unseen

Seen and Unseen

Our facebook data is being sold off

to advertisers and worse, who use it

to discern our personal triggers

and pull them. Pow! Gotcha!

We know you’ll buy this

bag, book, training course….

Maybe. The real crims, though,

aren’t doing so well with me:

widow, clearly not young.

They offer me thickset men

in military uniforms, white-skinned, 

hair just slightly greying, wholesome.

The sort you’d have taken home,

once, to meet your mother. Ha! I know 

they are not truly the names or faces 

they show. And anyway, I never fell 

for the ones my parents approved –

doctors, lawyers, accountants, dentists….

I look like such a sweet old lady,

posting photos of roses, messages

of peace and joy; liking cats, and a green

environment. They don’t see how I’m drawn 

to the shadow, the danger, the flame:

the unusual. The man in black.

Lean frame, long locks, dark skin. 

Antlered Cernunnos in the wild wood.

Black-haired Merlin, of the Old Folk.

The scintillating fae, who dance all night

in a glade among trees, lit by the moon.

Oh facebook, you know nothing.


Written for Poets United's Midweek Motif ~ Vision, which quotes Jonathan Swift as saying, “Vision is the art of seeing what is invisible to others.”

Soundcloud recording added 21 June 2019.