Full Moon Magic – An Acrostic Plus Poem


Forever and ever
Us witches pray
Lay your blessing on us
Let your wisdom guide us
Make us live in harmony
Once and forever
On this night we swear
Never to let evil near

Never be swayed by them
Who sees nature as an expendable cornucopia
We will protect her from harmful overusing
With one voice, together we say, I
am a proud defender of Gaia’s chaos systemic

© RedCat



Written for Poetics: For the love of puzzles . . . at dVerse. Where Lilian invents a new poetic form. An expansion of the Acrostic poem, she calls Acrostic Plus. I always loved puzzles of all kinds. So even though I find acrostic’s hard to write, they can easily be nonsensical, I had to give it a try.

Lillian writes: 

In an Acrostic poem, the first letter of each line, when read from top to bottom, will spell out a message or a name or a word.

In the Acrostic Plus, the first letter of each line in the first stanza, when read from top to bottom, spells out a message or word(s) and in the second stanza, the last letter of each line when read from top to bottom, spells out the rest of the message or additional word(s).

To me, one of the most important things in both the Acrostic and the Acrostic Plus, is that the poem makes sense. The form cannot overrun the meaning. I suppose that’s the case with any form of poetry.



Image credits:

First image: Photo by Anton Repponen on Unsplash
Second image: Photo by Karina Vorozheeva on Unsplash
Third image: Photo by __ drz __ on Unsplash


Daily Haibun, August 16th – Monday Blues


Mondays are blue. I feel restless and lost. Anxious about anything and everything. Everything feels meaningless and not worth the effort. I soldier through as best I can. But when evening falls, however much I’ve gotten done. I feel lacking in every aspect.

Rain falls like tears do

Filling my heart with sorrow

Stuck in Monday blues

© RedCat



Read other Haibun’s written for the monthly dVerse prompt by me here.

Read other Daily Haibun’s here.


Daily Haibun, August 1st – The End of Summer


It isn’t really the end of summer yet. Some weeks with warmth and light remains. But my mind is already moving on. Thinking about the coming fall, it’s return to routines and it’s changes. Of harvest and reaping the rewards of work and toil.

The light will leak out of the sky and we’ll be plunged into darkness again. I’m cautiously optimistic about suffering less from my depression this winter. But time will tell.

As fields turn golden

Crickets through the evenings play

Thoughts turn to autumn

© RedCat



Read other Haibun’s written for the monthly dVerse prompt by me here.

Read other Daily Haibun’s here.


Æsir Solstice Sunrise


In preparation for the solstice sunrise
The Æsirs beat their biggest drums
Filling the nightless midsummer night
With a majestic boom-boom-hum

Heimdallr heralds dawn by blowing the mighty Gjallarhorn
By Thor the holy hammer Mjölnir is thrown
The air by lightning strikes is torn
The earth seeded with protective thunderstones

Freya dons her feather cloak to fly
Seeking girls born with seiðr powers
Sending dreamers her priestess cry
To ken, pick seven kinds of flowers

The first step on the Völvas path
To see the meaning of the magic runes
Only for those that fearless curiosity hath
The hearing of the Norns spinning tunes

From the clouds that Frigg has spun
A cleansing rain starts to fall
Nourishing this year’s harvest growth begun
Ensuring food for animals and folk all

Ask and Embla’s children rise
Woken by the storm sounds
Hearing the Goddess falcon cries
Know it’s time to attend to holy grounds

The world cleansed, all peoples awake
Æsir, elfs, humans, vanirs and fauns
Sol her chariot to heaven take
Raising the sun to solstice dawn

©RedCat

Frigga Spinning the Clouds by John Charles Dollman
via Wikimedia Commons

This is the poem I began composing as I lay listening to the thunder on the shortest night of the year. I’ve managed to learn a trick that makes me able to remember short stanzas even after sleep. I compose a short stanza, or maybe only a couplet. Then while focusing on the sound, rhythm and feeling of what I want the poem to become, I say the lines over, and over, and over. Until they are firmly set in my mind. I do something similar when walking and having an idea, but not wanting to stop to write it down. This technique works most of the time, and gets more and more reliable the more I use it. I think this is relatively easy for me to do because when I sang as a child, all songs and melodies had to be learnt by heart.

I’ve read more than once that there’s absolutely no evidence for any pre-Christian Midsummer or Solstice celebrations in the North, even though most people here think so. And while I accept that fact. I refuse to believe that any people this far north would have celebrated only Midwinter, when night is nearly, or wholly depending on how far north, all day long. And not celebrate Midsummer when there is no true night, only day, dusk and dawn. Or Midnight Sun if you’re far enough north.

So while my poem is based on real Norse mythology – Æsir Gods and Goddesses, magical items and folklore. The story itself is wholly dreamt up by me listening to thunder rumble and boom.

Below you’ll find a list of internet sources where you can read more on each included God or Goddess, item or folkloric belief.


Shared to and read at Open Link Night #295 – Midsummer Live at dVerse.

Also shared to:

earthweal weekly challenge: A MIDSUMMER NIGHT’S DREAMTIME.

Writers’ Pantry #76: Whatever the Weather over at Poets and Storytellers United.

Promote Yourself Monday, June 28, 2021 at Go Dog Go Café.


 Nornir of Norse mythology at the  Urðarbrunnr., by L. B. Hansen
via Wikimedia Commons

Æsir, Vanirs and Elves
Freya
Frigg
Norns
Sol
Thor
Heimdallr

The Gjallarhorn 
Mjölnir

Ask och Embla
To ken – Kenning
Seiðr – Magic
Thunderstones
Völva – Seeress


Daily Haibun, June 8th – Endless Evenings

©RedCat

The daylight is searing bright. The evenings are getting endless. There is no true night, only paler light. Soon dusk meets dawn in endless days. Only the sun and it’s rays. Morning, noon and midnight. Sleep is harder to come by in the endless light. The mind has trouble distinguishing day from night. Until the tired body wins the fight. And sleep comes with dreams of endless light.

As Midsummer nears
Heart and soul grows light restless
Sun energies flow

©RedCat


©RedCat

Flower, Dance, Love

Be an uncrushed flower.

Be an uncrushed flower
Radiating true passions colourful power
Let love, truth and trust fear and doubt devour
Invoke creativity’s cleaning shower

An inner star shining through entrance
Nature’s cycles intuition enhance
Burst into constellations of dance
Follow the music to a state of trance

Love can be a monster, or not
Learn to love yourself first, whatever you’ve been taught
Relearn where validation is sought
Forgive all the unkind self degrading thoughts

Dance with joy like there’s no tomorrow
Flourish like a flower not knowing sorrow
Love freely all colours of the rainbow
Live compassionately in the firebrand’s glow 

©RedCat

Burst into constellations of dance.

Written for Weekly Scribblings #57: Let Us Write (together).

A big Thank you to Magaly Guerrero or sharing and allowing us to use her blackout poems. 

Love can be a monster, or not.

Depressed Diet

Panic-attack by George Grie

As the sun slowly rise
I wake, from dreams of my demise
Anxieties of every kind
Flooding through my mind
For breakfast, there’s the usual dark potion
Full of self loathing and suicidal ideation
During the day there’s the usual snacks
Triggers and hailing panic attacks
Lunch is often light
Too stressed to eat a bite
When it’s time for afternoon tea
All I wanna do is run and flee
In the evening I swallow screams for dinner
My soul-thread growing ever thinner
At night, alone in the dark, I despair
Waiting to be taken by sweat-soaking nightmares

© REDCAT
Photo by Johannes Plenio from Pexels

Written for Weekly Scribblings #33 at Poets and Storytellers United. Where we’re invited to to write new poetry or prose which includes the phrase “swallow screams for dinner” from C. Sandlin’s poem, “Telling Stories

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