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
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
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.
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
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.
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
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.
Christine O’ConnorIs 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
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
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.
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
All wolf artwork by Kirstin Armstrong 
The world according to RedCat 
![Rolf Dietrich Brecher from Germany [CC BY-SA 2.0]](https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:December_Moon_(37951306105).jpg){kind=link}