Author: RedCat

RedCat is a lifelong bookworm, that thinks reading, writing poetry and prose, music and dance, makes life worth living. Her writing spans any topic that currently inspires her, be that love, life, environment, mythology or anything else that pops into her head. Originally from the deep woods, this fiery redhead now makes home in Stockholm, Sweden, where you might run into her dancing the night away in one of the city's techno-clubs.

Glimpses of All Hallows Night 

On the last night
Of summer time
The stars are out in force
Shining bright

In the dark sky
Of all hallows
Restless souls watch
Another year passing by

In a house festooned
With ghosts and ghouls
The witch sheds blood
Offering thanks to the moon

On this liminal night
As the veil thins
The other realm nears
Bringing departed ones in sight

Hear what they say
Voices from the other side
Living in fear of death
You’ll regret not living fully one day

©RedCat

Image credits:

Image 1: Photo by Jake Weirick on Unsplash
Image 2: Photo by Andy Holmes on Unsplash

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Tatters of Brown – Folktober Challenge Day 26

She’s hunting the corridors
In her once splendid gown
Now, just sad tatters of brown
Retracing her steps, as countless times before

Where once there were eyes
Is now pits of black sorrow
Knowing there will never be a bright tomorrow
The house echoes with her cries

She will never again hold her children close
Or see them thrive and grow
Never again see their smiles
Or guide them through life’s trials
Never again hear their laughter
Or have the joy to care and look after

A mother’s love never dies
Keeps her searching forevermore
Trapped here on the lonely moor
Even as the centuries flies

©RedCat

Another small contribution to Folktober Challenge over at The Wombwell Rainbow.
See all images and read other responses for today here.

Image credits:

Image 1: Claimed photograph of the ghost, taken by Captain Hubert C. Provand. First published in Country Life, 1936

Image 2: NWT Roydon Common by Richard Osbourne

Image 3: Dorothy Walpole by Charles Jervas, Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons

Image 4: John Sell Cotman – Raynham Hall, Norfolk, circa 1818

ps. I have become aware that in some browsers this blog is experiencing what is called the white screen of death. I’m working on figuring out how to fix it. ds.

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Fields Beyond – Folktober Challenge Day 18

1.18. Bananach

Fields Beyond

Some say I should curse my love, for making me become this.
That I should have refused her hand, as I lay dying on the battlefield.
I say she swooped down and saved me, took me to the fields beyond.
Gave me new meaning and eternal love.

So what does it matter? How I look, or the horns I bear.
I bear them proudly, without feeling their weight.
They are a sign of my prowess and courageous heart.
Of her giving me part of her essence, meaning she’ll always be near.

Now we fly the skies together. From afar seeing what becomes of man.
Diving down to pick up, those that no longer have flesh hands.
After we have them delivered, we fly back to our fields.
In the soft twilight, there is no need for armour or shield.

There we lay together, exploring the way to each other’s bliss.
So truth be told, I’ve never been happier than this.

©RedCat

When inspiration strikes, whether it’s convenient or not, I try to write. And few things are as good at waking my muse as the pictures curated by Paul Brooks over at The Wombwell Rainbow. See all images and read other responses to the Folktober Challenge here.

You can read other ekphrastic poems here.

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Pain

A child cries heart-wrenchingly
With growing pains
A mother cries silently
Wishing
Heart filled with anguish
To take away and hinder all pain

Through experience knowing
Life contains heartache and pain
It’s even required for growing
All she can do
Is to help her children see it through
Emerge on the other side of fear and pain

In all life’s disappointments
Through all sorrows and pains
Be a supporting presence
Hold them with love and care

As long as there’s breath in her body
Always there

©RedCat

The other night I never got to fall asleep. Around midnight my youngest started to cry heart-wrenchingly because of growing pains. Aside from heating the wheat-heater, there was nothing I could do beside hold him and comfort him. He fell asleep again, fitfully. Waking every other hour to cry. Sometimes during the night, after crying myself because I felt torn in two wanting to do something and knowing I couldn’t, I wrote this poem.

Image credits:

First image: Photo by Marco Bianchetti on Unsplash
Second image: Photo by Jordan Whitt on Unsplash
Third image: Photo by __ drz __ on Unsplash

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March Morning Meditation

© RedCat

Morning dawns

Frost covering the lawns

Ten below zero

Radiating fairy glow

Cold and clear

No hint spring is near

Soon there’s a haze

Icy cold air rising

Lifted by the sun’s rays

Winter vaporising

Gentle touch on skin

Warmth starts to seep in

Giving cause

To slow down and pause

Halt the morning commute

Let deep breaths inner landscape transmute

Calms and quiets the angry anxious din

Roaring deep within

Giving peace and clarity of thought

Reducing the turmoil chaos wrought

Showing there’s no need to hesitate

Seek the benefits of taking a short moment to breathe and meditate

Changing the trajectory of morning and day

Allowing what the world throws at you to be handled in a more constructive conductive way

© RedCat

For the first time in ages I felt the drive to meditate. I’m grateful I did. Since it both started off my day in a better way, and sparked my creativity to write a short poem on my morning commute.

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Happy New Year! ❤️

© RedCat

Happy New Year to all of you! ❤️

This year have been different and difficult, not only due to the pandemic.

I found the courage to truly persue my writing dream deciding to take a leap year and go for creative writing classes.
I learnt things about myself I never thought possible. Both that I have more strength and courage than I thought and that apparently I’m neurodiverse. (Still processing that one.)
I got to know, connected with, got close to, new people who have taught me about myself, taught me to appreciate myself, and given me more love and care than my trauma wrought mind thinks I deserve.
I won’t make any new years resolutions but I’ve already wowed to keep writing, keep exploring my inborn strength, keep searching for the right way to pay forward the love and care I’ve been given and keep searching for the most effective way as an ascender to ensure as few children as possible will know the kind of abuse I knew (or any of the other kind available to abusers).

Take care of yourself and through action, not just words, show those you care about your love! ❤️

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Birth Echoes Through Time – 15 December (2020 Re-post)

Birth echoes through all our time
Time shard echoes in our minds
Minds echo with contact cruel or kind
Cruel or kind actions, echo through humankind
Humankind echoes, with what was done before our time
Time to shed the old, to let new life echo all around

©RedCat

Re-post comment:

I’m running late for everything it feels like. But mostly it’s about the writing I have left to do. And the fact that I haven’t prepared the advent calendar as I had thought to do. So here a day late you’ll get the post I have thought to re-post to free my time up and celebrate my oldest turning ten.

Enjoy!

At first I thought I’d do a re-post today, of my first Echo Poem, to give me free birthday time. But my mind keep going round and round in echoes, so I had to write a new one.

Each year in the day leading up to my children’s birthday I have flashbacks of birth both in mind and body. Not something I mention often as it sound so trippy, but both my own mother and others have described similar feelings. And if your open to it, giving birth is one of the most profound birth-death-rebirth experiences, aka trips, a woman can have.

Image credits:

First image: Photo by ©Jonas Norén
Second image: Image Source on Wikimedia Commons
Third image: Photo by Isaac Quesada on Unsplash
Forth image: Photo by NASA on Unsplash


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Time Is Running Out – A Haibun, 14 December

As the days shortens and the nights lengthens to midwinter it feels like time is running out. Like soon there be no time left to do anything. The awareness of the coming turning does nothing to alleviate this feeling. Add to that a ton of course work left, a child’s birthday to celebrate and only ten days left to Christmas Eve, and the feeling goes from uneasy to alarming. There really is very little time to get everything left to do done.

Time is running out
This odd year is about to end
Darkness flowing in

© RedCat

Image credits:

First image: Photo by Aron Visuals on Unsplash
Second image: Photo by Gerald Berliner on Unsplash
Third image: Photo by Justin Veenema on Unsplash

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