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stillhuman Mar 2021
There is something in the air
no more ice nor vampire lairs
The sun rules over night
and brings forth all things bright
And the flowers greet him with glee
all shining and rising among the ****
As the maiden smiles to her tummy
her child smiles back in the shape of a bunny
It's the breath of spring,
balance and growth with it brings
So let us blossom my dear
make our intention and power clear
Merry Ostara to all who celebrate. To those who don't, I wish you to blossom this spring
Sweet as the moon

Tender as the sun

Wanna live in sin

Call me a Harlot

Battles beginning

And guess...

We've already won


We have been winning

Since the beginning of Time




Now darkly

Tho she bleeds

Heal me heal me

The full moon bleeds


To be without her touch

Is a sin to any woman

It is a Sin for every man

To be with her


She is the dark maid

So without Me is SHE

Please be careful calls out the moon



Then well speak again

As I can understand you

Woman so beautiful

So I can speak to you

Lets speak tenderly

Woman to woman

Moon to 🐉
And the moon counsels the dragon
Saying thus

Practice and repeat
May the God and Goddess be Merrily Blessed
Are you pleased with me

The God says:
No
Not yet
And yet shall I be
Look at my Wife
Treat her Tenderly

Or can you says the Goddess

See dear one the God is always faithful steady and true
And even tho the Goddess bleeds for all humanity
She'll bleed for you too
Love triangle issues babe.
kennedy Feb 2021
I realized
as I aged that
my own intensity was not easily weathered by any man. Or any person.
My almond eyes were Venus flytraps
to the ghosts of my past who were drawn in all too quickly,
only to be devoured by their ceaseless lust and depraved need.
There was no dial to my passion, once awakened it could only be suppressed to a dull roar.
Many who met my gaze disintegrated before me into piles of dust and rubble and hollow disappointment.
They say eyes are the window to the soul, and I thought mine was host to a terrible demon or succubus.
I only discovered as my brain finished stitching together in my early adulthood that it is not demons who crumble weak men with their eyes, but goddesses
on growing
jǫrð Feb 2021
& of the myriad ways
to drive a man to feel
The goddess weapon
Is *** appeal
The History: Let them think you are who they see.
Erian Rose Jan 2021
Nature followed her footprints,
Planting seeds in the sand
With every forward land,
Blooming trees to the moon.

Wind would whistle between
The curls of her bronzite hair,
Setting a crown of flowers upon her head,
Hues of violets and blues.

No matter how much strength
She placed in the land,
There was only so much she could do
To brace the incoming doom.

Her eyes as forests
Would get torn down one by one,
Leaving nothing but rabbit holes
In the tracks that were left.

Generations would soon come to see,
The everlasting beauty of her earth.
In what was worth protecting.
What was left for recovering
before her last breath.
lua Jan 2021
i wanna be a fairy girl
with see through wings
so thin and frail
that glitter and flutter
jingling like a bell
humming bird girl
small sweet sounds
drink the nectar
from the flowers
nymph in the woods, deer girl
tree girl, mermaid
with magic in my veins
i wanna be a goddess girl
bow down
the sea licking at my feet
i wanna be.
Space and time fail to confine the inner workings of this extravagant divine.
Coleen Mzarriz Jan 2021
Intensely, I traced his steps until he met
my eyes, the only gaze I welcome
with a reflection
of light, grey and hue of
excruciating colors—to serve
his mightiness in the forlorn night—
through the fields and the city,
everyone is following him.

Their mouth agape in the sight of
his face peering at his brides—in weeping, in despair, in all forms of wrath—hope and madness.

The moon creeps in the black of the night—with his voice lulling as a whisper, faint like a finger softly lingering its hands on the piano—
through the perilous scheme of the midnight dawn.

He then wept with his brides and kneeled down in front of me.
His linen gown and fur coat covering his silver body and his eyes shriek with only a weeping melody.

He faced me and my heart sank at the sight of him,
“My bride, how come you are facing such a horrible nightmare?”

He said and held my hand,

“Artemia, I am broken by the man whom I love so dearly. I faced death, inferiority, dreamless sleep, and my heart crawled out of my body,”

“Darling, you are a bride of the moon and a man will only love you if they get blinded by the light, and such us, we are the daughters of the night. A man who is in love with the moon, is out there waiting for you.”

He then walked away, faced another midnight with his bride gleaming with hope in the forlorn night, with the light, grey and hue of excruciating colors.

There, I saw how he turns into the god of the night.
I've been seriously keeping up with life that I have forgotten to post every week... I feel incomplete and empty. But, here I am posting another piece I made while I was at work.

Hope you will read this at your own pace.
BrookandherBook Jan 2021
Free-flowing wavy hair
seemingly kissed by the sea air
Sweet smells of the perfume she wears
seem to follow her everywhere.
Wide eyes show she's the curious
olive skin shows she loves the sun
ink-stained fingers say she loves to write
above her there is none.
She wears a crown atop her head
a one which no one else can see
everyone can tell she wears it
I wish the crown was worn by me.
Brown hair with strands of gold
hazel eyes like emerald pearls
rosy cheeks and ringlet curls
she is envied by all the girls.
She wears jewelry
necklaces of gold
one says her name
or so, I'm told.
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