#WorldWolfDay, #InternationalWolfDay

I’m proud and happy to have my poem She-Wolf featured on The Wombwell Rainbow alongside stunning art by Kirstin Armstrong for #WorldWolfDay, #InternationalWolfDay

The Wombwell Rainbow

World. Wolf Day

wolf 3wolf 2

wolf 1 All wolf artwork by Kirstin Armstrong

She-Wolf

She arrives in dreams
The white she-wolf
Nipping and yipping
Around the Soul
Until it’s fully awake
Conscious of the surrounding Wildwood

One eye shines with sky-wisdom
The other, by now ferocious ruby red
Colour of mega-fires
Shade of blood for all the fallen animal-kin

Her howl echoes with pain
Grief
Rage
A billion souls burnt

Call that reverberate to the bone
Dream-sound break the hush
Stir archetypes awake

Nature are poisoned
Hurt
Ravaged
Out of balance
A continent burning

The wild howl will break sleep
Until the fallen are remembered

©RedCat

the wolf bites

the wolf bites the moon
wisp clouds mask red nakedness
shadows on my mind

-Simon Salento January 16, 2020 

 

On Being Pursued By A Wolf

Their nattering had gone on long enough.  The wolf crooked its enormous head suddenly, and they ducked down lower…

View original post 1,171 more words

Let me run with you (2020 Re-post)


Re-post comment:

It’s Wednesday and time to wander the archives. Decided to share this poem that are inspired both by the photo and a book that influenced me a lot. (Read more below.)

Twenty months after deciding to take my writing online – to share my souls lust – I can say it have been one of the best and most rewarding decisions of my life.

I’ve learned and evolved so much, found a sharing and caring writing community I couldn’t even imagine before.

Thank you all! ❤️



Leader of the pack
High priestess of the coven
Knowing every secret track
Supported by her dozen

Between you stand a suppliant
Heart and soul plea
Broken good girl remnant
Growth requires room to be free

Surrender myself to your wisdom
There’s nothing left but inner trust
No time left to be steered by the fearsome
Break free, return to life governed by soul’s lust

© REDCAT


Once again this photo prompt is eerie in its synchronicity. The other day I listened to a podcast that mentioned a book I haven’t thought of in years. Tried to find it, to no avail. Then this photo, that touches upon the book, my thoughts, my insights… Everything swirling around right now, due to my intense meditation schedule. So I searched for the book again. Without finding it. Tomorrow I’ll head to the attic to search some more…

The book I’m talking about is – Women Who Run with the Wolves. Read this article – which happen to contain marvelous art – to know why you should read it.

Poem inspired by the photo from Sunday Muse # 96.
Also linking to Writers’ Pantry #8: We Like Multiples of Three
and
Promote Yourself Monday, 2/24/20 and Roundup for 2/17/20.


Werewolf Dreams – A Sonett

©RedCat

The full moon rises clear and night-day bright
Distracting him from wife and child
Shining beacon to the shapeshifter’s sight
A clarion call to break free and run wild

Follow the call of the silvery moon
Run swiftly through the woods on soft paws
Howl and sing loudly to her dancing tune
Hold warm blood and hard bones in his jaws

Feel the cool night wind caressing his back
Drink his fill in the sweet burbling stream
Tumble and play with his werewolf pack
Freedom a chained human can’t even dream

Such is the power when you feel other
Accept yourself, says our wise witch mother

©RedCat

This poem is dedicated to my oldest child. Who asked me today as I took pictures of the moon if I ever wrote about the moon and werewolves. I told him I’ve written plenty about the full moon and some pieces about wolves. But so far nothing about werewolves.

Mind still on yesterday’s turning prompt. I ended up with another Sonnet.

Shared to earthweal open link weekend #58 and to Writers’ Pantry #59: Love and Loss.

©RedCat

She-wolf (2020 Re-post)

Recently I had reason to go through a lot of last year’s writing. Some pieces made me happy, others sad. I saw clear themes to my writing. And how month by month I learn and grow in the craft.

Since giving myself credit for my accomplishments are one of those things I struggled with. I decided to set myself the task to each week dive into the archives and re-blog a poem from last year.

So welcome to Wandering the Archives Wednesday.

This poem I wrote during the big fires in Australia last January. Truth be told. I don’t think even the pandemic have changed our behaviour vis-á-vis Nature.



She arrives in dreams
The white she-wolf
Nipping and yipping
Around the Soul
Until it’s fully awake
Conscious of the surrounding Wildwood

One eye shines with sky-wisdom
The other, by now ferocious ruby red
Colour of mega-fires
Shade of blood for all the fallen animal-kin

Her howl echoes
Pain
Grief
Rage
A billion souls burnt

Call that reverberate to the bone
Dream-sound break the hush
Stir archetypes awake

Nature are poisoned
Hurt
Ravaged
Out of balance
A continent burning

The wild howl will break sleep
Until the fallen are remembered

© REDCAT

Written for Sunday Muse #90 and Sunday’s Whirligig 248 and earthweal open link weekend #2.
Also posted to Writers’ Pantry #2: Storms and Stones and Warmth.

THIS WEEK’S WHIRLIGIG WORDS come from “To the New Year” by W.S. Merwin: touch, sound, dove, tips, know, hopes, calls, age, hush, hears, stir, possible.

Wolves Howling at the Moon – A Triolet, Ekprastic Challenge, January 29

Christine O’Connor

The wolves are howling at the moon
Witches dance to silvery tune

Praying for Freya’s bountiful boon
The wolves are howling at the moon

Reading the cast pathfinder runes
Offering their minds to attune

The wolves are howling at the moon
Witches dance to silvery tune

©RedCat

Read all poems and see all poems at The Wombwell Rainbow.

Also shared with earthweal open link weekend #55.

Christine O’Connor

Is an artist working in glass, metal, fibre and paint. Sometimes her work is based on photographs, but more often, she creates in the moment. She loves to play with texture and colour.

Christine O'Connor

From Nadir to Zenith – last poem of 2020

FurryTiger, CC BY-SA 3.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0, via Wikimedia Commons

Mummified alive by cobwebs of lies and deceit
Numbed until she couldn’t see it
Spider poison talking in her ears
Corroded until her heart knew new only fear
Hiding within a surreptitious poised shell
Her soul walked the cold and lonely paths of hell
In concentric circles further and further away from herself
Until one day a peddler in a wolf pelt
Traded a scarlet apple for a rhyme
One bite, her being rang with creative passions chime
Hands writing forbidden poetry until frozen fingers paper crumble
Feets choreographing forms until they bled and stumble
There is nowhere for the petite rodent to hide her bright light
Her pointy shoes rap-tap-ratting in their flight
She sings with newly found voice
Creative suffering my life choice
For love I’ll walk through fire
Reify my heart’s hidden desires
Travel from dark nadir to bright zenith
Rise from the ashes like a newborn Phoenix

©RedCat

Willermoz.es, CC BY-SA 3.0 http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/, via Wikimedia Commons

There really wasn’t time. Right now I should socialize and talk the night away. Instead I’m alone, polishing the last poem of the year. I felt it important to write one last piece. A piece of rebirth and renewal. So I searched for inspiration and found it in #skyloverwordlist.

The petit rat was something I just learned about watching Tiny Pretty Things.

Also shared with Open Link Night over at dVerse and earthweal open link weekend

Happy New Year!

December Moon – A prayer (2019 Re-post)

Photo by Joonas kääriäinen from Pexels

30th December 2020
Tonight’s the last full moon of 2020. The Wolf Moon. The Elder Moon. The Moon of long midwinter nights.

Re-posting a poem from last year. This one made it into my Book of Shadows! :-)


Long night moon, last light
before midwinter
Lend your shine
to the crown on the maiden
Guide her steps
as she seeks the shadow hidden self

Wolf moon, silver light
upon dark lands
Lend your clear sight
to the eyes of the mother
Guide her hands
as she steers her den and pups through winter

Elder moon, eternal light
keeper of mysteries
Lend your divine wisdom
to the heart of the crone
Guide her words
as she teaches the young and prepare to move on

© REDCAT

2019
Written for this years last full moon on December 12th.

Also posted to Pantry of Poetry and Prose #8 at Poets United.

Rolf Dietrich Brecher from Germany [CC BY-SA 2.0]

Word – By Ulf Hässelbäck, Guest Poet

Pixabay

there’s a void where there once was vocabulary
there’s a patch worn through where there once were words

but I have hope

if in the beginning there was the word
and if despite the void that word was heard
then it matters little if my words are slurred
and their meaning blurry
for, you see

there is no hurry
no need to stress, scurry and scamper about
no need to stand on metaphorical rooftops and shout out
at the imaginary skyline

for there is still time
still time to be present in the present
leave the past that the demons sent you to
the wounds can heal if the bullets all went through
if some remain
you know what you are meant to do
what maybe
just maybe
a god sent you here to do

but, you say
if in the beginning there was no word?
not even a speck of dust to be disturbed
all silent and not even a nothing there to see?
surely
that deflates my analogy?

No it doesn’t

because, you see, it is all metaphor to me
I am not christian nor muslim nor buddhist nor pagan
but as my life is finite
there’s a place where it began
as to why I exist?

Because I can

and all the words in the world are trapped in
consciousness awareness perception
so we can´t have true conception of the
eternal infinite

but

there are always words
words to be
served savoured and heard

that is the beginning

that is the end

©Ulf Hässelbäck
Photo by Min An from Pexels

For the second time I’m happy and grateful to host Ulf Hässelbäck, who shares this poem from 2008.
RedCat

Also linking to Open Link #280 – LIVE! at dVerse.

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