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Guden Jul 2019
I taught a woman
How to speak
About love.
She taught me
How to feel it,
In my bones,
Under my skin.
A priestess of the moon
Was sent to me,
From a lonely planet.
She made me thankful
And hopeful,
A fool.
When my armor and mask
Made me go
On autopilot
She would hold my hand
She would hold my soul,
Naked as well.
We would cry,
We would talk,
We could spend Saturday in bed
She gave me a present,
In the present.
My present is her.
Simple present.
I have known her my whole life.
I guess that’s present perfect.
Laura Utter Oct 2018
They say it’s a curse, disguised as a gift.

An agreement She made with the Devil.
She danced with His darkness, and prayed for departure.
So feet, He had brought,
A treat, so She thought,
She was ready,
no surrender.

A gift’s what He gave Her,
A gift, not an offer.
For this gift bore

She must suffer all thoughts,
His prisoner of dark,
Given words She must remember!
So He gave Her his pen.
Darkness, returned Her.
With a gift She could bleed,
no surrender.

Yet as He returned Her,
His ‘Secrets’, He gave Her.
The warmth of His breath
still lingers...

She summons His Darkness,
She plays with The Highest.
When Dark is too Dark
She surrenders.

For that’s how She became,
such beauty, yet ugly,
That’s how He bestowed Her-
“Royal Poetess”
A comment on another site inspired me.
Michael Briefs Jul 2017
In the ancient ages of our story,
Long lost on the storm-tossed sea of time,
Mystics, Shamen, Seers, Poets, and Prophets
Pointed to paths leading to survival,
Vital roads for our guides to find.
Lo, our progress came through
The purge of many perils.
In the grip of that troubled existence,
Our visionaries found the way forth
From a plague of deadly terrors.

Born out of the feverish tumult of the mystic Wild-man
Or the symbolic song of a Tribal Priestess,
Came words of hope and vision.
Their inner-light was a primordial premonition, stoking
The courage to make our daunting decisions.
Their mind’s eye pierced the veil, striking
Lightning catalysts into a forest of fascination,
To ignite the strength we must bring to fruition!

We clung to their words as we clung to each other,
And heard their call to mission.
We allowed the signs of their ecstasy to gestate
Within our souls; words woven into myths
To bear the fruit of immortal imagination!
Out of this flame came the hard-won wisdom of our people,
Our embryonic culture, and the seeds of our salvation.

We traveled on in the grip of a darkened world and
Survived together, confirmed by a shared oath.
The tree of humanity’s fragile hope must take root,
To fulfill its future growth.

We are an Ark-people, a covenant people,
A people of deep foundations.
We take that light, that fire, and
That power into our destiny,
Striking wild and true within!

May the ineffable Creator bless our steps,
Secure our path, inspire our faith,
And anoint our hearts for the road ahead,
What I believe: Love Rules! It doesn't matter what Faith tradition you come from or you aspire to. Let love be your North Star! Everything you do should flow from that...uh, ahem..."fundamental" foundation. Religion, ritual, symbolism, doctrine...these things can be effective and even beautiful. BUT: if they don't point to LOVE and emphasize the MYSTERY of life (over Fundamentalist attempts to paint that mystery as a black-and-white, judgmental, sin-focused, us-against-them kind of religiosity), then they are only a path to hatred, exclusion/separation, war and death. Love, by it's very nature, welcomes us all; it is the source and destination of all creation. Be a source of love and you will be a source of light. You and I are a part of the ultimate power of creation, expressed as light, in love! Peace!
A photo that I thought matched well with this poem:
featherfingers May 2016
I am two:thirty heat lightning.
Inconquerable flashes of my elemental fury
leap from grumbling cloud to dewy earth,
dancing naked under a smoky moon. I am a burning
offering to the sodium lamp sentinels looming golden
over black tar; there is tobacco sown
into my every pore.  I am the underestimated
weight of fog rolling off the meadow's swollen calf
river, the heavy lowing of labor pains, the thick
croak of the year's last bullfrog. I am the first
crunch of dying light, the gray tinge of wood smoke
on chlorophyll burned red. The sting of my icy breath
creeps into sleeping eyelids, through every crack
in waterlogged armor.  My frosty four o'clock
is no place for strangers.  The frozen silence
does not know my strength.  I will bend the world
with feet of glass.  In time, the weight will break
my own limbs, expose their green, soft meat.

I am the green shoots of daffodils sharp,
triumphantly cleaving the rested dirt.  There is yellow
warpaint across my forehead, a crown of blistering elegance
glazed by wings of stubborn three:thirty ice. I am resilient
and eternal—perennial—blooming to a cold, white moon.
you will never break my spirit, world.
Omi Dec 2014
Sea foam the color of breast milk is frothing up thick like honey
Salt crystals are dancing across my skin while the cold ocean water
Wraps itself around my ankles and begins to slowly rise reaching the ‘not-quite-there’ gap of my thighs

The bigness of it all usually overwhelms and dwarfs me

I’m a big girl
Chocolate, broad shouldered, and stout
But the largeness of this world often leaves me feeling small and without

But today,
Standing in the darkness,
I feel at home and tall
Mama swam up out of those waters
Proud and Black with tears running blue

She looked to me and sang melodically, but fiercely,
Here, Baby Girl, is a Crown of seashells and Pearls for you.
Now tuck back those shoulders and stand up straight. Kick up your heals and roll your thighs. Never let them forget just who is the prize. You will birth their sons and make great their daughters. You will heal their sick hearts with this here water. You will swallow your pride as I will make you whole. You will be shrouded in blue but dusted with gold. Cut free your sins and dance through the night because in the twirl of your skirt, the rumble of your laugh, the pitch of your screams and the stealth of your or dance, will make you great and show you the path to my kingdom. Welcome home, at very long last.

I hunched over again and let wash over me, the water
I let out a long cry
I am truly my mother’s sacred daughter

Haughty and fierce
Bold and indignant
Fiercely loyal
And protective of my children

I love you Iya
You have shown me the way
At last I am home
In the blue with you

Vast and safe and sacred and old



Forever will I give praise to you.
I am a crowned Priestess of Yemaya in the Lucumí tradition. This poem is about a deeply personal experience that I had visiting the ocean right before initiating as a priest.

— The End —