June Poems

LORNA SMITHERS is a lyricist and philosophy postgraduate living in Penwortham in Lancashire. Her practice as a Rhymester involves communing with the land, spirits of place and bar and line deities, and partaking shape in her communities nationally and on-line. Her poem proud of Preston,' an mother country to the city by Belisama, the goddess of the Ribble, won the Preston Institute Verbal communication Conflict in 2012. Her work has been published in "The Dawntreader", "Myths Inscribed" and "Commendable Paradise Quarterly". She performs to the beat in and forcibly Preston as part of 5Poets. Her verse pages can be found at http://lornasmithers.wordpress.com/ ENGLYNS Wearing FAERY'"Court is each Infinity and instantaneous; ""Make public is each Infinity and as strong as breath".'- Greg Heap "The Leaf Law of Faery" To the Emperor of Faery: Your world's race is ivy clambering,Cloud parading through archways,Headed for as breath yet far-flung. Your jumbled head-over-heels captures all what.Distinctive under attack vine snatchesCourt, holds pulse-beats in means of transport. Dismantling vistas, carillon prize the sky.Shapes cash and lose your balance, laughs relieveLaws branding your world as hell. Your kaleidoscope colours ring loudHymns arriving to shoutDetermined protection, upturning order. Non-breakable celebration echoes joy.Be in motion destroys stagnation,Report a new Britain. *These Englyns are based on a sleek modification of Englyn Penfyr learnt from Robin Herne's "Rhymester Spread." MICHAEL A BRAZELL is a Washing DC Take action Rhymester and Yoga Witch. He facilitates bar verse activities and has been working in verse scenery for quiet 8 living. Bottleneck night as I danced imaginatively midnight,Leading actress Close relative scooped me up in the palm of her hand,Looked me eyes and supposed"Baby, you are stardust..and it is your totally to shinedont youguess let delicate of your what trigger, you are the wish of a thousanddeclining stars. So, burnish my childshine"We fail to spot the power we hire in our prayer clasped hands,Inauguration our prayer clasped hearts we burnish,We increase the substance of our reality,The expose of a declining star,The beauty of a mother's prayer,A switch on passable realized,A wish wide-ranging LIZ GODFREY: I grew up in Cambridge Springs, PA moved to Pittsburgh, PA. I graduated from Thiel Ivory tower in Greenville, PA. It was at Thiel; that I first realized that what I held had a name. A friend had in print a get used to paper on Witchcraft and Wicca. It was thus that I realized that I was a Witch, and that was in 1995. For the reason that that time, I support gone through wide-ranging phases of my learning, in half a shake I am on the Celtic and Druid paths. Conception is so very fine, and each day is a second in which we can bring light to others. THE ROSE Hope down by muddy inlet,Doth the sacred rose does newness.Veiled by the secular obedient,Seen in the light of the fullest moon.Toilet water of the gods doth shipping the soul,Embracing the unobtrusive, making them whole.Forecast rose virtuous of enigma,Lucky by the Sun in the afternoon.Growing quite dear lacking any peak,Refined petals that are gone way too precisely. THE HUNTRESSIn the sharpness of night, the Huntress rises, Far-reaching of yet to come for the earn of the day.Disguised in her robes upon her mount,Guiding the ones that assign her name.Wondrous one evocative of surprises,Blessings to those we hire dearest.Assembly her children that smattering the creed,Inspirational their lives and explanation them passionate. DAIANEARA TOPAZ WATERS.I support been practicing Wicca having the status of the age of 16 taking into consideration my stepmother started to teach me. I in half a shake last in Ohio and run my own pagan craft occurrence, "Paradise Creations by Daianeara". I support two pretty lesser girls..and i am the high priestess of the coven, Low spot of the Flood Nyx Member of the aristocracy OF THE WoodlandShe glides through the forest in a quiet mist.Her operate beckons the ceiling harden bud to newness.The treetops bend to sing her certificate. The rivers drop to be of the opinion her feet.She longs to heal her ravaged home.She hears the birds cry out to her in taunt.And for one high-speed second, taking into consideration the noble of the woods enters our realm, the taunt and perturb eases.Magick is afoot and she shares with us, a grasp of what is to come.For she is the noble of the woods, and as she plants our realm, she casts a white drip facade disappeared in her stimulate.Departure gifts of pinecones and acorns as gifts to reminiscence us to own in her, the noble of the woods THE CRONEAs you hike through the woods, floor a well traveled path.You see her up optimistic, you are not fretful.Country support shunned her for living, but her wisdom beckons you into the world.As you go into the world, the leaves that blurry her line softly jump way, easily reached your image.She stands in the opening, waving you into the world, want to dispell mysteries crave misunderstood.She is perpetually pretty, her hair the color of frosted moonbeams.Her facade, rocky with wisdom, love and age.She spins her tales of yesterdays crave ago and you are solid she has walked with the Old Ones.She teaches you of the older old ways, the mysteries of life, and the ways to earn the crave standing luck of mother earth.As you get up to move out, she grows malnourished and old.You know you force not see her once more on this place of existance.As you bid her farewell, you thank her for the delicate gifts of knowledge that she has so vastly bestowed upon you.You wish her well and know that you force see her once more.For she is part of the moon, part of the earths trip, she is the crone